#finally we’re getting something!!!!!!!!!!

[prettyfastcars]

the way you bend, the way you break - part 2 | Mob!Lando

Read part 1 here 

Summary: Lando finally has all that he wanted, all that belonged to him in the first place. But there’s always room for trouble, even in paradise. And it’s up to him to fix it all and do whatever it takes to make sure that if he can’t have you then… no one can. 

Themes: pregnant!reader, mob!lando, fluff, slight angst, smut, very mild gun kink, gaslighting, dark!lando, possessive!lando

a/n: come get y’all juice [throws this fic at you and runs away]

He woke up to something warm pressing into the side of his body. 

Snuggled up to him, so close like you were trying to find a way to hide under his skin. He smiled when he looked down and found you asleep, wrapped in your blanket and still seeking his warmth. 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, leaning into you as much as he could. He couldn’t exactly press his body completely against yours anymore because the bump got in the way. 

It had been two months since you two had left that mansion and that little town. And your bump was properly visible now. 

Speaking of the bump… He couldn’t resist shifting down to kiss it. “Morning, little one.” He whispered against it. The warmth of your skin was comforting so he nuzzled it and sighed. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” 

Then he felt gentle fingers running through his hair. He gave your bump one last kiss before he looked up and found you smiling down at him. 

“Hi,” You whispered, playing with his ridiculously soft, curly hair. 

“Morning, mama.” He reached up and kissed your face until you giggled and told him to back off because his stubble hurt. “Oh it hurts?” He kissed his way down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, caressing you through the satin PJ set you wore before he began unbuttoning the shirt and lowering the shorts. 

He kissed his way down until he settled in between your legs, your body was still warm – hot rather – from being under the blanket and he couldn’t get enough. His fingers dug into the softness of your thighs as he parted them, bringing his mouth closer to where he desperately wanted to be. 

Kissing you through the thin excuse of an underwear you had on, he asked, “Is it still hurting?” He purposely let his stubble rub against your inner thighs, making you whine and moan as you squirmed under him. “Doesn’t look like it’s hurting.” He teased. 

Your fingers found their way into his hair and you tugged on it to shut him up. He smirked as he went along, letting you guide his mouth to where you wanted him. He licked, and sucked and teased until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you wide open for his mouth and preventing you from moving as he pinned your hips and legs down on the bed as he ate you out. 

This. This right here was his dream. Waking up next to his woman and then rolling over to taste her like she was there only for him to taste. Lando only smiled against your wet folds the louder your moans got. These peaceful mornings were what he lived for. 

But not everyday these past few months have been this peaceful. He still remembered the couple of days following the plane ride here… 

When you woke up on the plane, you immediately started panicking. 

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re just–,” 

“You had no right.” Were the first words you said to him. 

And it pissed him off. “Oh I didn’t? You’re mine, I have every right to do what I think is good for you. And our baby.” 

And then you argued. Big time. You said just the right things to make him mad and he acted like the overbearing, possessive man he was. The only way to get you to listen to him was to bend you over the nearest surface, in this case the bathroom sink, and fuck some sense into you. 

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was a foggy mess as he started rocking into you, making your front bump against the counter each time he fucked into you. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.” 

“I hate you so much right now…” you whispered, even as your walls clenched around him, unable to hide just how much you wanted him. 

His thrusts were animalistic, and rough. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it, tipping your head back so you could see your reflections in the mirror. “I said tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded menacing as he stared deep into your eyes through the mirror. 

You hated him. You hated how good he looked with that look on his face. His lips parted as his hips moved, burying his cock into you each time. You hated how good it felt to be bent over in front of him, all for him to use. 

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours,” You whispered, gritting your teeth, losing this round. But vowing to not forgive him easily. 

You continued watching him through the mirror. He looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, veins on his muscular neck prominent, eyes closed, his lips parted as groans escaped his lips. With that frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you. 

“You better remember that, baby.” He growled. “You are mine. I love you, and I know how to care for you. So don’t fucking tell me what to do when it comes to you and our kid. You hear me?” 

You nodded despite the death stare you sent his way, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. 

And when your walls clenched violently around him. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, mama? Hmm?” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. 

Seeing you didn’t reply, he tilted your head to the side a little. You couldn’t see his reflection anymore, not as he leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did, for a moment you forgot all about your anger. 

“Come for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonisingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him as you came, hard.

He did too, right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, as your body shook against the counter. He gathered you up in his arms again, kissing you as your body shivered and trembled. “I love you. I’m doing this for us, baby.” 

After you landed, he drove you to another one of his houses – though he called this one his main house – which was equally as grand as the one you used to work in. Once he showed you to your shared bedroom, you went straight for a nice, warm, long shower. 

And after that, you didn’t speak to Lando for two whole weeks. 

He tried everything. Sulked, apologised, begged, tried to buy you ridiculous things, begged some more. And it took two weeks of severe grovelling for you to finally accept his apology. 

He was glad you didn’t stay mad for too long. Although those two weeks of silent treatment from you hurt even more than the time he’d been shot twice during a crossfire. 

But he had you now, under him and squirming, moaning in pleasure just how he liked it. And this was perfect. His tongue didn’t stop teasing you until you were properly spent, grinding your hips against his mouth as you calmed down after a gentle, but intense orgasm. 

He kissed along your inner thighs, which were still trembling. But then he groaned in annoyance when he looked up and couldn’t see you because of the bump. “Kid’s getting in the way already,” He murmured, kissing his way back up. “I can’t even see your face when I’m down there now.” 

You giggled at the tone he used. “And whose fault is that?” 

He nuzzled your neck again, kissing it as he held you against him. “I love you.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s time to get some breakfast in you, mama. Let’s go.” 

You sighed in bliss, savouring one last moment in bed with him before you got out of bed and went through your morning routine while he made his way downstairs. This had become a new part of your routine now – him making breakfast each morning. 

You shook your head as you showered. You couldn’t believe this was your life now. New home, new place, new doctors, new staff members who waited on you at all times during the day. You had everything one could want. People all around the house who were ready to bring you whatever you wanted. Multiple cars with chauffeurs ready to take you wherever you wanted. 

Anywhere you wanted, you thought, but not to your hometown. 

Lando didn’t like it when you even mentioned the little town you’d just left. It didn’t have much to offer, but it was still where you were born and raised. You didn’t miss it enough to want to go back and live there. No. But you did miss it enough to want to know how everyone was doing back home. 

Your friends and family. 

You’d tried bringing it up just a few weeks ago… 

“Maybe I should go back once.” 

“What for?” He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you, kissing your forehead as you both stood on the balcony just outside your bedroom, watching the sun rise. 

“Just to say goodbye properly. I… maybe they’d understand why–,” 

His arms tightened around you before he reached up to cup your face in his large, warm hands. “They won’t.” The finality in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “If they wanted to talk to you they would’ve reached out by now, don’t you think?” 

Lando knew full well that he was leaving out the part where he threatened your friends and family to never reach out to you if they wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders. He had people watching them at all times. He wasn’t taking any risks. You were his now, and no one was gonna take you away from him. 

That ended that conversation. And you never brought it up again. 

You did think about it even now as you got ready for the day before making your way downstairs. Maybe, you thought, you could check up on them without physically going there. 

– 

A couple of days later, Lando came home after a particularly annoying day and all he wanted was a soothing hug from you, a couple of kisses, and maybe you’d let him bury his face between your thighs again. 

But he walked into the house and immediately, he could tell something was wrong. The guards were all in their places, armed as usual. So that calmed him down a little. Yet, a gut feeling told him something wasn’t right. 

As he made his way up the stairs, he took his phone out and checked the security cameras. Everything was fine outside, the guards walked around on alert as per usual. Then he checked the cams inside his home, trying to find you. And he frowned as he saw you in the corner of his library, typing furiously on the keyboard as your eyes remained glued to the screen of his computer. 

Weird. It was rather late, you should’ve been in bed. He tried zooming in to see what was displayed on the screen but he couldn’t see it. Damn. He should get new, better cameras. 

But without wasting any more time, and seeking to soothe that feeling in his gut, he rushed towards the library. And his heart sank as he kept an eye on the security cam footage while he approached the library. 

He watched how you visibly tensed up the moment he was sure you could hear his footsteps approaching. He watched how you clicked around in panic, typing even faster the closer he got to the library doors. 

He put his phone back in his pocket the moment he pushed the doors open and stepped into the room, finding you at his desk. The screen illuminated only your face while the rest of the room remained fairly dark. 

“Hi!” You said, sounding a little too cheerful. Sounding fake. Fake smile, fake happiness upon seeing him when he knew damn well you were just frowning right before he walked into the room. 

He hated it. The mask you put on just to make everything seem normal. He clenched his jaw before he asked, as calmly as he could, “What are you doing? It’s late, baby. Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yeah,” You gathered the blanket you had wrapped around you. “I was just looking into colour palettes. For the nursery, remember?” 

He nodded slowly, watching how you didn’t move from the desk. “Right now, though? It’s the middle of the night. And why were you in the dark?” Like you were doing something you shouldn’t. 

He noticed how you tensed up the moment he began walking towards you. He watched how you tried to discreetly move your hands towards the touchpad again. But he was quicker. 

And it only took him a moment to lean down so he could see properly, understand, and process what you’d been doing, or what you were about to do. He looked away from the screen and looked down at you. You avoided his eyes and that only pissed him off even more. 

“Care to explain this, mama?” 

Something shifted then. His tone, his demeanour, his presence – all of it getting darker. 

You looked away, sighing in defeat. “I just wanted to know.” There was no point in trying to hide that you’d been secretly emailing a friend of yours from back home. There weren’t too many emails exchanged, only a couple going back to a few days prior where you asked about the wellbeing of your parents and other friends. 

You didn’t risk texting because… that would be too easy for him to find. You couldn’t call either, he would know because his loyal guards watched each move of yours. So emails it was. You’d delete them each time. But this time it seemed you’d been caught before you could. 

“You couldn’t trust me?” He asked. Part of him was relieved that your friend had told you that all was well back there. This meant that your family was behaving like he wanted. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” He grabbed the back of the chair and slowly turned it so you’d have no choice but face him. “Why’d you go behind my back like this? And why lie to me?” 

You looked up at him. Piercing eyes staring down at you as the computer screen illuminated only half of his face. His hands remained on the back of the chair so he was closer now. His scent drove you insane. Damn hormones! Lately all you ever wanted to do was be close to him. His scent… it did things to you. This was unfair. 

“I just wanted to confirm that–,” 

“Why not just trust me?” 

You couldn’t help but say, “Trust you? After you kidnapped me and told me my family didn’t want anything to do with me? I’m supposed to just trust you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that but there was no going back now. 

“Kidnapped?” Lando scoffed. “Bringing you home where you belong isn’t kidnapping.” 

You sighed again. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be here with you, Lando. But I needed to make sure all was well at home.” 

“And is it?” 

You nodded sheepishly, looking up at him to find him clenching his jaw in that way that made you think of sinful things. 

Thank fuck, he thought, that your friend kept her mouth shut and didn’t give you any details about just how well things were at home. How your family and friends constantly had his men around them, keeping watch and notifying him of each of their moves. At this point, Lando knew exactly how many times your family went grocery shopping or to the park. He had his people keeping eyes on them at home, at work, following their cars – there was nothing he didn’t know about. 

“Am I not enough for you?” He asked, standing up straight so he could look more menacing as he stared down at you still sitting in front of him. 

Only his stance just made your body throb even more. He looked godly from this angle. Like some dark, tortured, tragic hero in his all black suit which fit him like a second skin. That metal chain hanging from his neck. His pretty eyes on you. You had to take a deep breath and shoo away all the filthy images that filled your head. 

You rolled your eyes at his question. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” He scoffed. “You’re reaching out to your friends, talking to people behind my back, then lying to me about it and I’m supposed to just what, do nothing?” He accused. “For now it’s emails, what if in the future some day you decide you want to leave me? Will you expect me to just stand there, not be dramatic, and do nothing?” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to stand up but he carefully pushed you back down on the chair. Leaning down so he was staring into your eyes, he said, “Do you want to leave me, mama? Is that what’s going on here?” 

“You’re blowing this out of pro–,” 

He cut you off by pulling his shiny, silver gun out and placing it gently on the desk. Right where you both could clearly see. Within arms’ length, but definitely closer to you. 

His voice dropped as he leaned closer, lips bruising against your cheek as he ignored your side of the argument and said, “If you are thinking of running then you better use this and make sure I’m no longer breathing before you do.” He pulled away to look at you. The proximity, the danger in the air, the inevitable tension, it made you breathless. “Because if you run, I will chase.” He whispered, “And you won’t like what I do to you when I catch you.” 

Your heart was pounding, mind racing and the filthiest of outcomes flooding your brain. Still you asked, “You think I would hurt you?” 

He smirked and he’d never looked more unhinged than he did in that moment. It scared you, about just as much as it excited you. He glanced down at his gun. “Not worth living if I can’t have you anyway.” He whispered. 

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, finally reaching out to hold his face in your hands. “I need you. We need you.” 

That made him look down at your bump, partially visible now since your little PJ top didn’t cover all of it. He dropped to kneel in front of you, bending to kiss the bump again like he always does. 

“I’m sorry, little one,” He whispered, nuzzling the warmth of your skin. “Daddy has to be mean to mama for a bit. She’s being difficult, you see?” Then he looked up at you and said, “I don’t wanna fight.” 

“Neither do I.” You stood up this time, taking a few steps just to put some distance between you and him so you could think straight and take a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why the thought of me being connected to what used to be my home bothers you so much.” 

He slowly turned to the desk and grabbed his gun. None of that scared you. You were safe with him, you were certain of that. So you watched him. Watched how he slowly turned to you and said, “Because there’s the possibility of you leaving me and going back there.” 

You sighed in frustration. “There’s always going to be the possibility for every single thing. That’s how life works! So what, you’ll wipe the entire town out of existence? Burn it to the ground? Turn it to nothing but ash? All so I won’t even have a home to go back to if I ever leave you?” 

He gave you that same unhinged smirk from earlier. Then said, “Don’t tempt me.” 

“Lando.” You warned. 

“What?” 

“What the fuck do you want, huh?” 

He moved. 

He walked towards you and for each step he took, you took one back. Until your back met with one of the book shelves and he was right in front of you. “I’m getting tired of this conversation.” 

You spat back, “I’m getting tired of your face.” You lied. 

He chuckled, then looked down at the bump between you two, caressing it as he said, “You hear that, little one? Mama’s being a brat.” He looked up at you and said, his voice deeper now, “But don’t you worry, daddy will deal with it.” 

It all happened too quickly. Him getting your clothes off, kissing you to distract you as he walked the two of you over to the nearest couch. You bit his lower lip in annoyance till you almost drew blood, and he just chuckled before kissing you even deeper as he carefully pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you supporting himself with one hand while the other one held his gun right above your face. 

“You’re being difficult again, baby.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your chin. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down your trembling, naked body, down your thighs and back up till he pressed it against your wet folds. He chuckled when he saw you grinding against it. “Does it feel good? Hmm?” He asked. “Does it make you feel all powerful knowing you piss me off more than anyone ever dares to and can get away with it? All because I love you too much to actually punish you? Does it, baby?” 

You frowned at him, still annoyed. “Shut the fuck up.” You didn’t stop grinding against the cold gun. You whined when he pulled it away from your skin and tossed it to the side. 

He had a mean smirk on his face, calm despite everything. You studied his handsome face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting from guilt to annoyance to lust, and your heart fluttered when he whispered, “Spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.” 

The crude casualness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you weren’t dripping wet and burning with desire. And regardless of how pompous you thought he was, how authoritative and overbearing – and no matter how annoyed you were – you did just as he asked. 

You held his stare as you spread your legs so he could settle in between them. Lando eyed you with a mischievous smirk. “There’s my good girl. Now hold yourself open for me.” He said, then lowered his mouth, watching as you carefully spread your folds open for him. “Fuck…” He murmured as he kissed your knuckles. 

You couldn’t see his face – because of the bump – but his warm breath against your fingers, your wet skin, the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your wetness around, followed by his tongue, all of it had you moaning as you arched your back, leaning into his mouth even more. 

You could see his hips moving while he ate you out, grinding into the couch and for some reason that made you whine even louder. “Lando …” you whimpered. 

He smirked against your inner thighs. “Don’t you dare come just yet.” 

You whined, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Lando smirked when he craned his neck and saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He knew just how sensitive your body had become these days, how badly you craved his touch at all times. And right now, he noticed the way your body squirmed under him, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming. 

��Baby… please,” You whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come. 

“Please what?” He taunted, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. “Is it frustrating? Wanting something so badly and having someone else just threatening to take it away? Hmm?” He slid his tongue up and down your slit, careful not to make you come and enjoying the way you growled through gritted teeth. “This is how it feels, baby. Everytime you argue and bring up that little town. The thought of you leaving me here and returning there…” He playfully bit your inner thigh. “This is exactly how it feels. Like I’m a fucking madman ready to do whatever it takes just to have what I want. Which is you next to me. Always.” 

You let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” You caught yourself whispering. “I’ll… I’ll let it go. I promise. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” You lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He looked up at you, with his lips more pink and fuller than usual. “I want to be here, right next to you. Always.” You promised. 

He seemed proud of that. Nodding gently, he said, “See how easy that was, mama?” He kissed his way up your inner thighs again, “I love you.” He murmured, looking deep into your eyes as if daring you to not say it back. 

You couldn’t resist him. “And I love you.” You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds. 

His hand found yours and he laced his fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core, making you whimper in pleasure. Your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit, teasing your sensitive spots with his warm and wet tongue. 

“Please…” You moaned pathetically. 

Then heard his merciless chuckle as he pulled away, kissing his way up your body again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were well past caring if the guards could hear you moaning. 

He pulled away just for a moment, to quickly take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely taking his time as he unzipped his pants. 

“Please,” You whined, sliding your fingers into his soft hair. “I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his curly hair. 

“So needy.” He murmured, loving it actually. It made his ego inflate knowing his woman needed him so badly. “I’m here, baby. “I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard this whole time. It was a fucking miracle he was able to even wait this long. 

With a slow, steady push, he slid his cock into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. Lando held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally. 

“This what you needed, mama?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, making you look up at him. 

You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Lando smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back, your bare chest pressing against his. 

Lando leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. You whined senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. 

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…you’re mine, you hear me?” 

You nodded. 

“Only mine…” Lando quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before. “My woman,” He spoke, his voice thick and deep with lust. “Mine.” He stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Say it.”  

“I’m yours.” You repeated, eyes getting droopy with desire. 

Lando caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his other hand holding him up above you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and fierce adoration in his eyes. “Come for me.” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Lando kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came. 

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one. 

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His lean body hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, as much as he could while still being careful not to hurt you – it was a new fear of his, that he would somehow hurt you during sex. “Come for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him. 

Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked in a way that had you clenching even harder around him. 

You were gasping for breath after that, and Lando twisted you both on your sides so you could rest for a while. He knew all too well that you had the habit of drifting off into deep sleep right after some good sex. 

Kissing your forehead, he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll get us in bed in a while, okay?” 

You nodded, burrowing deeper into his warm, muscular chest as you let yourself pass out in bliss. 

— 

You began snoring softly in no time, so he was in no rush to get you to move. He grabbed the blanket from before and made sure you were nice and warm before he carefully slid from under you and retrieved his phone from his trousers on the floor. 

Letting the back of his hand gently caress your cheek, and bending down to kiss your bump one last time, Lando moved away from the couch and went towards the desk. Sitting down on the chair, he made a phone call while he kept an eye on what the screen displayed. 

Those damned emails. 

He smirked when he heard the person on the other end answer. He wasn’t calling to have a full conversation – not with you sleeping just a few feet away. 

“You know what to do.” He ordered over the phone. Then ended the call once the person on the other side confirmed that they indeed knew what he was talking about. 

He tossed his phone aside then closed the tabs on his computer. Deleting the emails before he did so. He scoffed, thinking about that damn little town which was being a pain – but not for long. 

He walked back to where you were sleeping. Kneeling beside the couch, he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss your cheek. “My baby,” He murmured, letting his lips brush against your skin for a while longer. “I love you so much.” He couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m doing this for us.” He smiled, “You’ll understand one day. I’m just making sure that if ever I can’t have you, then no one can.” 

—

a/n: hi!! I won’t be writing any more parts for this story. I’ve been loving fics with open endings lately so yeahhhh (there will be more mob fics tho don’t worry <3)

#lando norris #mob!lando #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[uluvjay]

Thighs-M. Verstappen

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

In which Max always catches you staring at his thighs and finally does something about it

Warnings?; smut, thigh riding, cursing, kissing, pet names, slight degradation, slight overstimulation, i apologize for any errors I missed!

It was no secret that max had nice thighs, and it was no secret to your boyfriend how attracted you were to his thighs.

The Dutchman had caught you staring at them on multiple occasions yet any time he’d lock eyes with you, your head was snapping in the opposite direction with a growing blush on your cheeks.

However lately he’s caught your eyes locked on them a bit more than usual and since you weren’t going to do anything about, he would.

He had planned a nice dinner for the two of you, not giving you many details besides to keep it casual and to be ready by seven.

“Almost ready Schat?” He questioned as he passed by your vanity on the way to your walk in closet.

“Mhm, just have to get dressed.” You smiled up at him, head tipping back to rest on his stomach as he was stood behind your seated form.

“Me too.” He smiled back, leaning down to place a kiss to your hair before heading to the closet.

He had already seen your outfit laid out on the bed, a smirk forming on his face as he pulled out his own clothes but more importantly the jeans that were a bit tight around his thighs and always had your eyes locked on the thick muscles.

He hadn’t realized how long he had taken until you were calling out for him and asking if he was ready.

“Yeah I’m ready.” He called back, sliding on his shoes and pulling one of his jackets from a hanger.

He smiled as he exited the closet to find you stood in front of your floor to ceiling mirror touching up your lipgloss, dressed in jeans similar to his, a nice black sweater, heels, and the purse he’d gotten you for your birthday.

“You look gorgeous baby.” He praised.

“Thank you.” You blushed turning to face him.

Max smirked at your sharp intake of air as your eyes raked over his body, stopping at the denim that hugged his thighs.

“Everything okay Schat?”

“Huh?-oh um yeah.” You blushed, “You look very handsome.” You said smiling as you made way to him and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

You may have did your best to cover up the lust in your eyes but max had already caught the little sparkle.

“We better get going before we’re late.” You spoke up before turning around and heading downstairs.

The ride to the restaurant was tense to say the least, you could feel the desire growing in your stomach and the dull throb beginning between your legs.

Taking glances at Maxes thighs every chance you got, eyes lingering on them a bit too much and getting caught multiple times in the process.

Getting out of the tight sports car felt like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and thankfully you and max had been sat across from one another allowing the dinner to be relaxing however, the throbbing in between your thighs never seemed to disappear.

The ride home was a bit better than before, you being able to calm yourself down and force the sinful thoughts of riding your boyfriends thighs until you physically couldn’t go anymore to the back of your mind.

Max walked into your shared apartment first, greeting your screaming cats first before they moved onto you, rubbing their soft bodies against your legs.

“Hi my babies.” You greeted the bengals.

You moved to set your purse down on the entryway table, kicking off your tight heels with a sigh of relief

“Baby?” Max called, “can you come here for a second?”

You followed his voice into the living room, stopping in the doorway as you found his legs spread wide, jacket thrown on the opposite side of the couch while he looked at you with an evil smirk.

“Y-yeah?” You questioned.

“Come here” he spoke softly but you could hear his lustful rasp hidden below.

You made your way to stand in between his still spread legs, a gasp escaping you as his large hands reached for the button and zipper of your jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of something.” He mumbled, eyes not bothering to look up as he pulled the denim down your legs revealing you dark blue thong.

He reached a hand out instinctively as you stepped out of your jeans before pulling you down on top of him by the hand you had placed in his for balance.

He positioned your body to rest over one of his thighs, a cocky smirk forming at the way you whimpered when your lace covered cunt came into contact with it.

“Max what’s going on?” You questioned your boyfriend once again.

“You’re going to ride my thigh until you cum, I’ve seen the way you look at them baby, I know you want to do it.”

You couldn’t help the moan that bubbled out at his words, he knew you better than you knew yourself at this point, always knowing exactly what you wanted or needed without you even having to vocalize it.

“Bu-“

“No buts Schat, now be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh.” He instructed as he leaned back into the couch, strong arms spreading along the back of the couch.

You did as you were told, allowing your aching and dripping cunt to begin moving back and forth starting with a small momentum.

However that didn’t last for long as the new sense of pleasure took over your body and soon your hips were moving shamelessly as you humped your boyfriend’s thigh.

Max was truly struggling to control himself, watching as whimpered on top of him, the wet spot that had formed below you no doubt ruining his jeans but he could care less.

Not when your head was thrown back in pure ecstasy, and your freshly manicured nails began to claw at his expensive shirt.

“Doing so good Baby..this is what you’ve been wanting right? To hump my thigh like a little bitch in heat?” He taunted.

You hated how your pussy clenched at his dirty words, but after all it was the truth.

“Yes, fuck yes max..feels so good.” You whined, opening your eyes to stare down into his blue ones.

That’s when he snapped, one of his hands coming to tangle in your hair before tugging you down and slamming his lips against yours in a hot kiss.

His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, leaving you no room to protest as his mouth dominated yours leaving you breathless on top of him.

You were both panting by the time he pulled away, his lips trailing down your throat as he left wet kisses around your skin followed by small nips.

“max I’m getting close.” You breathed, hips beginning to stutter as you could feel the fire in your lower stomach intensifying.

“Yeah? Gonna come for me pretty girl?”

“Fuck!..yes max, so close.” You cried loudly hips noticeably slowing as you did your best to keep up with your previous pace and the overpowering pleasure taking over your body.

Max dropped his hands to your hips, holding on tight at he guided your body over the thick muscle, repeatedly clenching and unclenching it to add more pressure to your sensitive cunt.

You cried out as your high overtook your body, mind going fuzzy as you slumped against max, thighs and body shaking as he continued working you through your high.

You whimpered into his neck as he slowly brought his movements to an end, finally stopping when your hand shot out to grip his wrist and a pathetic whimper fell from your mouth.

“I know baby, I know..did so good for me.” He praised as he placed kissed to the side of your head, holing your panting body close to his strong one.

You two sat like that for awhile until you finally pulled yourself away from his chest and pulled him into a slow and loving kiss, thanking him for giving you what you needed.

“That was so good.” You mumbled against his lips before pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded bashfully, a deep blush growing on your lips.

“Could have done it a long time ago if you would’ve just asked instead of hiding it.” He spoke softly reaching a hand up to stroke your cheek, his heart warming as you leaned into his palm.

“I know..but something tells me we’ll be doing it quite often now.” You smirked.

“Oh will we?” He smirked right back, his lustful gaze quickly returning.

“We most certainly will be.” You giggled, dipping down to pull him into a hot kiss.

-

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula one smut #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic

[mingwrites]

I’m not sure if you have done this but can you do something about how ateez will feel after a concert or especially Coachella, all h.rny and all js being very dominant? (I love your work btw, I think it’s very true to them)

hello there, first of all thank u so much for the compliment thats so sweet 🥺 and second i really hope u enjoy~!

ateez after a concert

seonghwa ~ it was a hot night, as evident by the sweat stains soaking through seonghwa's low-cut tank. backstage, he dashed around the room, panting as he repeated, "where's my y/n? where's my y/n?" you didn't even care that he looked insane. you ran to him and he scooped you up in a big hug, lifting you off your feet. "you guys were so good," you cheered, holding the tired, sweaty man as close as possible. seonghwa set you down but held both of your hands in his. “thanks, baby,” he smiled warmly, leaning in to kiss you. you pecked him on the lips, about to pull away when you felt his hand comb through your hair, pulling your lips closer to his. your stomach filled with butterflies at seonghwa’s command and you happily submitted to him, leaning into his touch. his lips searched desperately for an entrance into yours, and you obliged him, parting your lips as his tongue came flooding into your mouth. with a mind of their own, your legs backed you up against the wall and seonghwa followed closely. his hips crashed into yours when you collided with the wall, causing both of you to moan at the sudden pressure. you laughed into the kiss and seonghwa finally pulled away to look at you. “what’s gotten into you?” you asked. seonghwa was breathing hard and stared at you with heavy eyelids. “i just…really need you.” a ping of arousal shot between your legs and you responded, "let's get out of here."

hongjoong ~ his ride raced across the city, headed for his hotel. unfortunately for both of you, the 15-minute ride was just a little too long. you sat impatiently in the back seat beside your lover, his hand on your thigh. you held his hand tight as your legs subconsciously squeezed together, relieving a little bit of the heat in your clit. hongjoong's tongue was exploring your mouth, meanwhile your free hand crept its way toward his lap. he moaned lewdly when you landed on his hard dick, a raw, vulnerable quality in his voice as if he hadn't been touched in ages. "that's it, darling," he whispered, "go on, touch." you glanced to make sure the driver wasn't snooping before undoing hongjoong's pants and wrapping your hand around his bare skin. "good girl," he sighed, his head falling back on the headrest. he fit snugly in your hand, the feeling of his veins and sight of his red, leaking head causing your legs to tingle. you pumped him just a few times before the car came to a stop. “we’re here, mr. kim."

yunho ~ practically running through the revolving hotel door, you giggled along with your boyfriend as you held tight his large hand. you headed straight for the elevator, the wetness pooling between your legs in preparation for the night ahead. yunho pressed a button and the elevator doors closed. then he immediately turned to you and pressed you against the wall, his hand finding your jaw and pulling you to him as his lips made a mess of yours. you moaned when his hand trailed down to your chest, grabbing a handful of squishy flesh and massaging your taut nipple. then his hand drifted lower, sneaking past the waistband of your pants and underwear, where he found your soaked and swollen sex. he smirked into his kiss as he dipped his finger inside, coating it in your arousal before rubbing a few tentative circles on your clit. you swore your legs almost gave out at the sensation. he made you moan a few times before sliding back inside, now hooking his fingers into your sweet spot and stroking it gently. the elevator made a ding and yunho pulled away from the kiss. he looked down at you and said, "i'm gonna make this pussy all mine."

yeosang ~ you collapsed onto the hotel mattress and yeosang wasted no time before reaching for your zipper. he freed you of your bottoms, the cool air hitting your already messy pussy. then he kneeled on the floor, pulling you toward the edge of the bed so your pussy was right in front of his face. "i love you," he said, not giving you a second to respond before taking the breath right out of you. his warm, soft tongue licked a slow stripe from your sopping entrance to the tip of your clit, causing your legs to instinctively close around his head. he groaned at the feeling of your thighs against his warm cheeks then gently pushed them back toward the mattress. you ran a hand through his hair, messy and a little damp with sweat from performing. he continued rubbing his tongue against your clit, switching every so often between quick flicking motions and long, sucking kisses. it was the sucking, along with the deep sounds of satisfaction yeosang made that got you off so damn quickly. your legs closed again, and this time he let them, sticking his tongue out for you to grind against as you rode the waves of orgasm. when you finally looked down at his gorgeous face between your legs, he said, "i was waiting all night to do that."

sannie ~ "go ahead, pretty girl," he said, one hand around his massively hard dick and the other in your hair, "suck it." you obediently opened wide, sticking your tongue out just to drive san crazy. saliva dripped down your tongue which made san moan, his hand guiding his dick to your lips. "so hungry for me, aren't you, babe?" you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and moaned in response to his question. san's head rolled back and he let out a deep groan, his hips twitching a little at the feeling of your warm, tight mouth. with his hand on the back of your head, he gently urged you down the length of his dick, an action you didn't resist. you leaned all the way in until he poked at the back of your throat, when he let out a satisfied moan, then you went a little further. "that's a good girl," he praised, his hips beginning to move on their own, fucking your mouth slowly. you continued to suck on him dutifully, stroking him with a flat tongue and letting him use you how he wanted.

mingi ~ you lied on your belly with your ass up in the air, your pussy an empty hole just waiting to be filled. mingi got positioned behind you, his hands around your waist and his huge dick standing tall just inches from where you needed it. he was inches from where he needed to be, too, both of you throbbing and dripping with desire. you swore you could have cried when the head of his dick finally penetrated you, and you almost did when his girth stretched you fully, his veiny skin pressing against your sweet spot. you moaned in harmony as mingi bottomed out, his hands pulling your ass flush with his belly. you could feel him bulging through your stomach, but couldn't bask in the feeling for long as mingi's hips began to move rapidly, his dick pounding into you again and again, always hitting your sweet spot. you shoved your face into the mattress, your hands gripping fistfuls of bedsheets, as you were fucked into oblivion. you couldn't hold back the lewd sounds you made, bordering on screams and sobs, while mingi let out deep-voiced growls behind you. "love your sweet little pussy," he said, staring down at where he disappeared inside you. "all mine."

wooyoung ~ he rolled over on his back, groaning out of impatience during the few moments he wasn't inside you. you hurried along, repositioning his dick at your entrance and slowly sliding down. you sat on his pelvis, his dick throbbing inside you, but didn't move yet, instead taking the time to lean back and circle your clit with your finger. wooyoung quickly pulled your hand away, hissing at you, "don't tease me. and let me rub this." you giggled at his temper but obeyed his demands, letting his thumb pick up rubbing messy circles into your clit, and rolling your hips backward, forward. wooyoung quickly became a symphony of sounds, moaning when you bounced on his dick and whining when you slowed down. his thumb kept up its diligent work on your clit, each circle and swipe drawing you closer to the edge. wooyoung was panting, his eyes fluttering shut as he focused in on the pleasure. he said to you in a breathy voice, "gonna make you cum all over me. my sweet y/n."

jongho ~ he had you on your back, his large, muscular body forcing your legs apart. you moaned like a helpless animal as his thick length pummeled you, filling you up over and over. his powerful arms were on either side of your head, his fingers interlocked with yours. you whined as he fucked you, "please, jongho, don't stop... it feels so good..." he laughed breathily at your needy tone, speaking in your ear, "it's okay, sweetheart... i won't stop." in response to your desperate plea, his hips began to move a little faster, still hitting that perfect spot inside you. soon after, you felt the familiar tight, tingly feeling in your tummy. "jong-! oh..." your muscles tensed repeatedly around him as you came, a few more thrusts into that tightness causing jongho to reach his high in time with you. he dropped his head in the crook of your shoulder and his hips slowed to a stop as you felt his warm seed paint your walls. he lifted his head only to kiss you - a sloppy, lazy kiss in between heavy breaths. he placed his index finger underneath your chin and lifted it so you could face him. then he whispered, "you're such a good girl."

#i tried somethin different #hope u like it :D #as per usual im a little high rn so i apologize if there are any mistakes #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez x you #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #seonghwa #hongjoong #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #san ateez #choi san #18+ #mdni #ateez headcanons #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who has sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #barty #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #slytherin skittles #the slytherin skittles #smut #barty crouch jr imagine #barty cr #barty crouch jr x reader #Barty Crouch jr x #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch jr smut #barty crouch jr drabble #barty crouch jr headcanons #barty gate #if you give the fans a barty #they’re going to ask for smut #ellecdc fics

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair. 

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting. 

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain. 

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip. 

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas. 

“Y’okay?” 

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started. 

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again. 

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone. 

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?” 

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture. 

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything? 

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened.  “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs. 

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.” 

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!” 

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him. 

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?” 

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology. 

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees. 

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants. 

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget. 

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around. 

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that. 

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief. 

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away. 

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit. 

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours. 

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out. 

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #Daryl Dixon sm #daryl dixon smut #Daryl Dixon x f #daryl dixon x female reader #Daryl x f #daryl x female reader #pregnant! #pregnant!reader #Daryl ang #daryl angst #Daryl sm #daryl smut #Daryl Dixon an

[stxrry-dxys]

only thing i want to personally add to the whole watcher debacle is i’ve seen a lot of people say that the announcement video reeks of “we’re better than youtube” and while i agree, this is absolutely not a new sentiment from watcher.

i distinctly remember when watcher first started, and especially with ghost files, ryan’s biggest pitch was that he wanted to make high quality content like what you’d find on tv. that he’d always wanted to be a director, and as someone with a similar dream at the time all i could think was “and you’re gonna do that through,,,, ghost files?”

and then when puppet history started airing and shane was talking about his excitement for it he said something very similar. about always wanting to make content where he can really “go nuts with it”

it felt weird, like something about those sentiments wasn’t quite right, but i pushed it away. i had a similar dream to ryan and figured that watcher on youtube and ghost files would be a good way for him to establish a presence that tv stations might pick up. and the same for shane and puppet history and potentially getting a kids tv show out of it or something similar. i don’t know much about steven’s goals, but i had always assumed watcher would be temporary and that eventually they would get their own shows on already established networks. like they just viewed youtube as a stepping stone that they would quickly pull away from.

and then it kept going. and going. and suddenly productions values were going up and new shows were being pitched and tons of new employees were hired and the idea that watcher was temporary very much faded. but the attitude never did. they kept adding more but it never felt like they were establishing this brand as anything long term like gmm or smosh.

and even as the shows felt more overproduced it was almost like the quality was declining. puppet history was getting corrected on its facts more and more. ghost files was constantly getting called out for viewer submissions being obviously faked. they’d stayed on their stepping stone too long and it began to crumble.

this is not to defend them in any way, and this is not to shame any fans who feel blind sided. but i am not shocked by this in the slightest. dumbfounded at how awful a decision this is? absolutely. disappointed that they actually committed to it? for sure. but i am not shocked. this company was always on borrowed time, and i can finally let out the breath i’ve been holding since they first announced their own solo channel.

#the writing has been on the wall since day one #even when ghost files first aired people were saying they liked it less than unsolved #anyways all this to say can we stop acting like the ghoul boys are innocent in this situation #if anything they’ve been more vocal than steven has about wanting to commit to something like this #watcher posting #watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #watcher entertainment

[reminiscingtonight]

A Chaotic Sort Of Love

Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

Word Count: 707

A/N: You can’t expect Taylor to drop an album and me to not write a crackfic about a song

[WOSO Masterlist]

“I have something to tell you.”

Leah’s deep in conversation with the other Lia when you interrupt. 

The locker room’s mostly empty by now, only a few of your teammates still hanging around. 

You’ve planned this entire thing out to the T. Even down to who’s still in the locker room. There’s not enough people around where news of what you have to share would spread like a wildfire, but there’s still enough where the necessary people would stop Leah if it all got out of hand. 

Alessia’s meekly standing beside you when your sister looks up. Lia simply shrugs when she’s given a questioning look. Despite the two of them being the best of friends, you still go to the older girl for advice quite often. But whatever this is about you haven’t told her a thing.

Leah gestures for you to continue. 

You swallow nervously. “Okay. Well. Less and I… we’re dating.”

And just like that, the air turns frosty.

“You and Alessia are what?” Leah’s eyes instantly narrow as she fixes her gaze upon the striker by your side. Despite towering over both you and Leah, Alessia wilts, her height doing nothing to dissuade Leah from taking a menacing step forward.

You shift yourself so that you’re between the two blondes. “Relax, Leah.”

“You want me to relax? Well I want you to not be corrupted by two-left feet, stumbling, doe-eyed… giants!”

Someone snorts from across the room at Leah’s floundering insult, and Leah’s quick to send her glare after its owner.

You roll your eyes. “I want you to relax because I’m actually pregnant. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Leah jerks her head back so suddenly you’re a bit worried about whiplash. Her eyes dart between you, Alessia, and then your stomach. She’s silent for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she looks for something to say. “You’re what?”

You shrug, letting out a loud sigh. 

Leah takes another tentative step forward. You can feel Alessia stiffen a bit more behind you. But this time Leah’s only focused on your stomach. 

“Are you really--”

“No!” You slap Leah’s hand away before it can make contact. “I’m into women Leah. This woman,” you gesture backwards towards Alessia. The blonde instantly drops her eyes, internally groaning at the way you continue to rile up your sister. “I’m not pregnant. But you should’ve really seen your face when I said I was.”

Leah reaches out again but this time you’ve already darted away towards the safety of the older Lia. 

The Swiss woman looks mildly amused, holding out a hand to stop your advancing sister. 

“But--”

“They’re young but your sister is her own person.”

“What if--”

“Own person,” Lia repeats, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

It always amuses you to see how much your sister defers to Lia when the Swiss woman takes charge.

Leah’s nose flares in annoyance, but even you can see when she decides against challenging the other woman. “Fine. But just let me get this straight--”

“Nothing straight about this at all, Lee.”

“Dude,” comes an exasperated sigh from across the room. You look up to see Katie shaking her head at you, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. 

You know you’re in for it when even Katie thinks you’ve gone too far. 

To your surprise, however, Leah simply takes a deep breath in. When she finally exhales, she seems less peeved. She shrugs, turning towards her locker to shove her clothes into her bag. “I’m sure you can be dating worse people. Less is nice enough.”

“That’s it? No lecture? No scaring Lessi away from me?”

“No. But I just-- hold on.” Leah grabs your arm, stopping you before you can dart away to your own locker. You meet her eyes head on, not really sure if she’s going to tear you another one or not. From the corner of your eye you can see Lia tensing again, but her next words have you all relaxing. 

“You’re not pregnant,” Leah asks, double checking just for her sanity.

“No--” Alessia pipes up from beside you, shaking her head. 

“Not yet,” you grin.

Leah curses when you duck under her outstretched hands. “Get back here you imp!”

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

THEME PARK HEADCANNONS WITH MIGUEL 💕 💕💕

—

Based off this post lol

Being completely self indulgent with this one lol. I also think it would be funny if they went to a 6 flags park cuz it’s DC property, lol anyway. Not proofread, no smut but slightly suggestive in one part.

Word count: 800

Masterlist

—

✭He remembered how once you made an off handed comment about loving roller coasters and flat rides when you two had first begun dating, and since summer was just around the corner he wanted to surprise you with two tickets to the nearest Six Flags in a state over, wanting to make a whole day out of it, because he’s just a sweet boyfriend like that.

✭He himself hadn’t gone to one since he was in high school before he had his late growth spurt, so he didn’t realize until it was already too late that he was too big for 99% of the rides.

✭It hadn’t occurred to you both right away, you were both waiting in line for a coaster, Batman the ride to be more specific. You both finally got to the front of line after about 40 minutes of waiting, Miguel hugging you from behind as you waited like a stereotypical couple. (When you were single, you despised those couples but here you are now) he wasn't even able to take two steps from the gate until an employee came up to you both. Saying that Miguel was too tall to sit comfortably in the seats and even if he was a few inches shorter, the over-the-shoulders restraints wouldn’t click because of how built his shoulders and chest were.

✭He was a bit upset, the day had barely started and he was already being turned away because of something he had technically no control over. But he didn’t want it to affect the date. So he just walked through the loading station and just waited there. You had initially told him that you weren’t going to get on it if he couldn’t, but he said that you should just ride without him.

✭“You had already waited the 40 minutes muñeca, just go, It’s fine.” He had told you, but he started to regret his words just a tad bit when the ride attendant had sat a group of three college guys next to you. He had to watch silently as the one next to you tried to make conversation. You were always too nice to not engage, and weren’t very good at reading signs when someone was flirting with you.

✭When you finally finish the ride, your face is all flushed , and you're all giggly from the adrenaline pumping in your veins. Miguel made sure that the guy next to you knew you were off limits, pulling you close by your waist and capturing your lips into a wet kiss as you giggled into it. Not noticing the way your boyfriend was glaring daggers at the guy who sat next to you.

✭You were a lot more optimistic than Mig was about being able to get to ride at least one thing with him. But the more times he got denied the more bitter he became, you had to take a break from the rides after one of the works we’re getting “too handsy” with you (he was checking your lap restraint) so as to make sure he didn’t throw it down with a 16 year old worker (it was almost funny how jealous he got at times).

✭If there was anything Miguel could do though, was to win you something at the games. Specifically , one of those gigantic teddy bears you have to hold with both arms.

✭You’ve never wanted to jump his bones more than when he was playing one of those water shooting games with a little boy, and had “accidentally “ missed during the first few seconds so the kid could win the last pikachu stuffy. Admitting to him when you both shared a funnel cake later that you’ve never wanted to make him a dad more than in that moment.

✭And he swears to himself that he’ll keep those words in mind next time you try to reach for the condoms in his dresser drawer.

✭Miguel was sure he wouldn’t be allowed on 99% of the rides, but there was, thankfully, a ride he could go on. The Farris wheel.

✭You both were able to get on just after the sky turned dark, and all the fun neon lights from some of the other rides lit up with perfect lighting as you boarded.

✭You were in awe at all the lights and the sights from atop of the wheel, taking a picture to post on your insta story with 3005 from childish Gambino later. Not even noticing Miguel’s starry-eyed look at you, matching the one you had.

✭Once you two stopped at the top, Miguel couldn’t help but seize the opportunity to be cheesy, and leaned in until his lips connected with yours.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

@mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout

@reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama

@scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry

@haveclayeveryday @krentkova19

#this was kinda rushed #but it’s okay #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #miguel o hara fanfic #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara headcanon #Spotify

[peachhcs]

congrats em!!!

person A going out with person B for the first time in public to announce their relationship

perosn a- reader

perosn b -jack hughes

showing you off

jack hughes x fem!reader

you and jack finally make your relationship public!

1.4k words

i've never written for jack before, so i hope this is good 🫣 thank you again for sending in requests for the celly. i'm so excited to write about other hockey players!!

700 celly masterlist

you stood in front of the mirror doing last minute touches on your look. there was an edge of nerves running through your system knowing this was a big night for your relationship with jack. after agreeing to keep things private for the few months you two have been together, you decided you were ready to make things public. poor jack was more nervous than you were knowing how people online got.he worried the comments of other fans getting to you even though you told him countless times you could handle it. a few mean comments meant nothing to you knowing jack chose you. 

“i think i’m almost ready jacky,” you called to your boyfriend when you heard him shuffle into the room. his head poked into the connected bathroom, a smile gracing his lips when he saw your pretty baby blue dress. 

“jesus, you look incredible,” the brunette hummed, eyes racking across your body that the dress hugged in all the right places. you flushed at his comment, spinning to face him. 

“you think so?” 

he stepped further into the bathroom, hands snaking around your waist just low enough that his hands grazed the top of your ass. a lazy smiled painted his lips as he continued drinking in your appearance. 

“can’t wait to let everyone know you’re mine tonight,” the boy pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to your lips. 

you smiled into the kiss, squeezing his chin between your fingers as his hands drifted lower. a giggle left your lips at his boyish behavior, pulling him off your lips which was instantly met with a pout that you pulled him off. 

“we better go, soon, yeah? don’t wanna be late,” you tapped your fingers against his cheek. 

“you’re 100% sure you’re ready? i don’t want it to be too much too soon. there’s probably gonna be cameras everywhere and people shouting questions,” jack knew events like these had reporters and journalists everywhere trying to catch glimpses of their lives. he didn’t want to bring you into all of it unless he knew you could take it. 

“i’m sure, baby. i’ve got thick skin,” you smiled. 

“i know you do, but sometimes those people can be real assholes,” jack’s worry was cute. you cupped his cheeks, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead. 

“at least i’ll have you with me then,” your confidence eased some of jack’s worries. he kissed you one last time before dragging the both of you out of the bedroom. 

“about time. thought i’d have to bang on the door or something,” luke snickered, jumping up from his place on the couch. 

“real funny, luke. let’s go or else we’re late,” jack grabbed everyone’s jackets, his antsy side coming out as he rushed his brother and girlfriend out of the apartment. 

the ride into downtown was uneventful. jack’s aux music helped ease some of your nerves as his car approached the venue which was indeed packed with people already at the front. you found yourself squeezing jack’s hand rested atop your knee a bit tighter seeing all those people feet away. jack quickly met your gaze. 

“feeling okay?” the boy wondered. 

“i’m fine. just nervous,” you said. 

“we can go in through the back if you don’t wanna do this. that’s perfectly fine with me,” jack gave you a quick ultimatum, but you shook your head. 

“it will be fine, jacky. promise,” he studied your expression a bit longer before deciding that you were gonna be okay. 

he pulled his car into the line, allowing the valet to take his keys as the three of you climbed out. jack met you on your side, holding his arm out for you to latch onto. your hands squeezed around his bicep as he took the lead, luke trailing behind you guys. the fans and reporters spotted the three of you immediately, quickly shouting to get your attention. 

“jack! is that your girlfriend?” 

“oh my god, he has a girlfriend??” 

“over here! let me get a picture!” 

the two of you posed for some pictures, jack’s hold tightening around your waist as the photographers snapped away, marking the public debut of your relationship. you weren’t sure how your boyfriend was feeling, but you felt in the clouds. so many people were reaching out for you or jack, wanting his signature or to just talk to him for a few seconds. sometimes you forgot this was his life—so flashy, so surreal—yet you loved it. 

he began pulling you down to carpet where security held the doors open for the guys. you waved to the fans one last time before disappearing inside the arena. jack glanced over at you, his expression a bit unreadable. 

“okay?” he wondered almost nervously. your large smile immediately eased his worries though as you latched back onto his arm. 

“god, you’re so cool. i knew you were popular, but i didn’t realize how popular,” your laugh brought a smile to the boy’s lips. 

“i’m glad you approve. it seems like everyone else does, too,” jack pecked your lips before dragging your further into the event to find his friends. 

the two of you quickly found nico and holtzy. both guys smiled widely when they saw their teammate and his girl on his arms. you smiled, watching jack greet them with friendly hugs. “didn’t know you were bringing your girl out,” nico hummed, giving you a gentle hug once jack finished. 

“thought it was time we go public,” jack pulled you back into his side, a proud smile on his lips that people finally knew about the girl he’s been loving for months. 

“wow, didn’t know hughes could become so lovey,” holtz teased, roughing up jack’s arm. your boyfriend brushed the comments off despite the small blush coating his cheeks. 

“whatever. you guys want some drinks? first round’s on me,” the brunette smiled. the guys cheered as they followed your boyfriend to the bar, ordering the entire team the first round of shots. 

you spent the rest of the night clinging to jack’s side, but neither of you minded. his arm was hooked around your waist no matter what, not letting you move too far away from him. you could tell he was enjoying himself knowing the big smile on his lips didn’t come out often unless he was around you or his teammates. jack adored all of them, even when they chirped on him, and he couldn’t be happier getting to spend the night with you too. 

even if you were just eye candy on jack’s arm, you didn’t care. getting to spend time with your boyfriend in his element was your favorite thing. 

as the night winded down, photos from earlier were released on social media. you peaked over jack’s shoulder as he scrolled through the pictures, smiling when he came across the ones of you two. there were a few of both of you smiling and one where jack’s eyes were on you when you weren’t looking. there was a lot of love in his eyes that made your heart just burst. 

“who knew we cleaned up so nice,” you teased. jack looked over at you, eyes bright. 

“so you think it went okay then?” 

“i think they liked me. do you think it went okay?” you wondered, brushing some of his hair away from his forehead. 

“i think it went amazing. i’m glad you came out tonight, it was a lot of fun,” jack leaned over, kissing your cheek. 

“thanks for bringing me, handsome. i hope i can come along again,” with that, the hockey player placed a more passionate kiss on your lips. your fingers tangled into his hair, twisting the locks around while his own hand cupped the side of your cheek. 

neither of you cared that you were in public. the booth you sat in tucked you guys away into a corner that almost created your own space away from everyone else. jack deepened the kiss even more as he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, but the moment was short lived. 

“jesus, you guys are so gross. can we leave soon?” luke stood at the end of the table in disgust. 

he was such a little brother with his snarky comments. you giggled, but jack didn’t find his brother as amusing. 

“hold your horses. we’ve got all night,” jack said. 

the younger boy only rolled his eyes, shuffling away like a little kid. jack’s attention turned back to you, eyes still bright with love and lust. 

“now, where were we?” 

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nj devils #new jeresey devils #luke hughes #jack hughes x you #hughes brothers #ice hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nhl x reader #jack hughes fluff #peachhcs 700 celly!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 4

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Joe grunted as his text message to Kiyana went unanswered for another day. “Gotta be Josh’s punk ass.” He muttered, throwing his phone onto the couch next to him. It’s been six months since he had Kiyana in his bed and he was feening for more. 

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he remembered how tight she felt wrapped around him. How intoxicating her moans sounded as she moaned in his ear . “Fuck” He whispered as he felt his pants grow tighter. He groaned and opened his eyes. “Fuck.” he muttered again, grabbing his phone and sending Kiyana another text message.

“Baby, when the last time you had some dick?” Kiyana choked on her lunch and glared at Samara as she reached for her cup of soda. 

“Girl what?” Kiyana asked. Samara shrugged. 

“You so wound up. That’s exactly what we’re doing this weekend. Getting you some dick.. Grade A dick.” 

“Can you stop saying dick?!” Kiyana hissed. “I do not need any of my coworkers over hearing this conversation.” Kiyana looked around, grateful that they were seated towards the back of the cafeteria and only one person was near them but he had on headphones. Samara had shown up to the hospital on Kiyana’s first day to have lunch with her and to hear about her day out with Josh and the boys. 

“I’m just saying.” Samara shrugged again with a smirk on her face. “Last person you had sex with was Joe, right?” Kiyana nodded. 

“Oh speaking of Joe. He texted me again.” 

“Did you respond?” Kiyana shook her head and Shrugged. 

“What was I supposed to say?” 

“Oh, big daddy Joe. I need you and that dick.” Samara said playfully, batting her eyelashes at Kiyana and laughed loudly, ducking the french fry that Kiyana threw her way. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Kiyana and Samara looked towards the person and both of their jaws dropped open causing him to laugh a bit.  “I just wanted to introduce myself.” He said, his eyes never leaving Kiyana’s.  “I’m Elijah but everyone calls me Eli. You the new labor and delivery nurse right?”  Kiyana nodded, her mouth going dry when he flashed her a grin. “Nice to finally meet you. See you around.” He said, giving her a nice once over before biting his lip and walking away from them. 

“Fuck what I said about Joe.”  Samara said, eyes wide as she and Kiyana watched Elijah walk away from them. “If you don’t ride that man six ways to Sunday… I will.” 

Josh let out a growl when he saw Shanté waiting outside by his rental. He knew it was too good to be true. He could have swore her crazy ass had got sent back down to NXT but here she was, wearing a customized YEET shirt that had “MRS. USO” on the back. 

“Bruh, you trippin’” He muttered. Standing as far away from her as possible. “Whatchu want?” He looked around to see if there were any lingering fans around. He did not need any picture of him and Shanté hitting social media. 

“I miss you.” She pouted and Josh rolled his eyes. “C’mon Josh. Those four months meant something to you too.” 

“I didn't,” he said bluntly. “We had sex that’s it.” Shante rolled his eyes not believing what he was saying. 

“Josh, come on! You were so mad that I went out with Theory.” 

“Nah” He shook his head., “I was mad that Kiyana was being a bitch and refusing to bring the boys to see me because we were fighting and I took it out on you. I don’t give a damn about you and Austin.”  Shante furrowed her eyebrows. 

“What?”

Josh sighed. “It was nothing but sex Shanté. Yeah I said some shit that I shouldn’t of said. But I never wanted to be with you.” He shrugged, not caring if it came off mean. He was sick and tired of popping up everywhere. “It was just sex.” He repeated, and as expected Shanté marched up to him and smacked him in his face.

“I’m happy Kiyana divorced you, you piece of shit” She glared at him before ripping her shirt over her head and throwing it in a nearby trash can. Not caring that she was now walking around in her bra. 

“You and everyone else.” He muttered before climbing into his rental and driving towards the hotel. 

Kiyana fell backwards onto her bed. She was beyond exhausted. She closed her eyes and sighed. She would have to get used to this feeling, no longer a stay at home mom or a wife. She was almost asleep when he phone dinged with a notification, 

ElijahDaniels has requested to follow you. 

Kiyana bit her lip as she scrolled through his instagram account.

This man was too fine for his own good. She accepted his follow request and immediately received a DM from him. 

ElijahDaniels: those your kids? They look just like u.  KiyanaJackson_: yeah and thank you, lol. You’re the only person to ever say that.  ElijahDaniels: i aint know you was married tho. Tell you husband my bad lmao.  KiyanaJackson_: divorced actually.  ElijahDaniels: good KiyanaJackson_ good? Lol ElijahDaniels: yeah, now i can get to know u better.  ElijahDaniels: see u tomorrow ❤️

Mr Elijah Daniels MD 😉... our girl KiKi is back in the game!

(Joe is coming, i promise.)

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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[jji-lee]

HEY HOW ARE YOU, HOPE YOU'RE DOING GREAT, WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE Y/N AND JENO GOT INTO A VERY SERIOUS ARGUMENT

HI!! i’m doing great, sorry for the late reply i am on vacation! kinda inspired by jim and pam’s valentine’s day fight from the office (if you’ve seen it) it’s not so much an argument because i’m bad at dialogue but it’s a little couples spat. hope you enjoy anyways! ☺

it had been tense since jeno woke up that morning. it was valentines day and you wanted to make it special for him since the last one he had been on tour. you woke up early to make him his favorite breakfast, taking the time to cut out little hearts from all of the fruits. but of course your exhausted boyfriend had slept through breakfast, having had practice till late the night before. he had taken off from practice today to "spend time with you" but he had only been spending time with his bed. you cleaned up breakfast deciding that it wasn’t that big of a deal, you had the rest of the day planned anyways. when jeno had finally woken up you were getting ready to go on a bike ride with him, your go to date activity, but you were met with a groggy smile telling you, “not today baby hm? just a little tired, but i made us dinner plans at 7 today okay?” so you complied taking off your biking gear and heading to the living room to watch some tv. jeno came out lazily and laid on the couch next to you resting his head on your thighs. as 6 rolled around you decided to get ready for dinner looking through your closet for your new dress. you heard rustling in the bathroom assuming jeno was also getting ready. by 6:45 you were finished, stepping out of your room to show jeno your outfit. as you stepped out you were met with a very laid back boyfriend, wearing jogging pants and a hoodie, he looked up at you eyes widening when he saw your appearance, “shit baby is it 7 already? i totally blanked on dinner, i can get ready real quick and tell them we hit some traffic so they don’t charge us for being late.” he stood up quickly going to your shared room to get dressed, you stopped him. “forget it jen, i’m not even hungry, let’s stay home and do nothing like we’ve been doing all day” jeno stared at you, confused by your sudden attitude, “what do you mean ‘do nothing,’ i took the day off to be with you?” you let out a deep breath, “you didn’t take a day off to be with me you took a day off to catch up on your sleep jeno, don’t act like today’s been ALL about me” he tilted his head to the side staring at you bewildered, “is this about the biking? baby we bike every chance we get, we’ll do it next time i have free.” you pushed past him leaning on the couch for support as you took your heels off, “yes jeno, this is about the biking and breakfast and this stupid dinner that you planned and forgot about, i tried to make everything special for us today and you just slept through it all, i look like an idiot running around planning stuff for my boyfriend who doesn’t even care” he walked towards you grabbing your chin, “you think i don’t care? you think getting a last minute spot at your favorite restaurant is easy? you think being away from you everyday is easy?” your eyes began to water as he let go of your chin walking towards the door “i’m sorry for being tired today, it’s my first day off in months, you think i didn’t want today to be special too? i’m sorry okay? i feel like shit cause i ruined your valentine’s day.” you heard jeno's voice crack as he spoke, back turned towards you, “i just, i can’t keep going back and forth, not today, if we’re gonna keep fighting then i’ll just meet the guys at practice, tell them our plans got cancelled,” he slipped some shoes on, grabbing his coat to leave, you stopped him, hand grasping his shirt. “don’t leave please, stay, stay with me and fight, we’ll yell all night if we have to.” he stopped and turned to face you, “you really wanna fight on valentine’s day?” you gave him a soft smile, “yes, stay with me and fight, just, don’t go.” jeno wasn’t gonna leave, not even if you begged him.

#🐶 #jeno #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno imagines #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct a #nct angst

[arinbelle]

Moments V

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year and I’m so happy it’s done. I really wanted this conversation to happen right after the Blood Rite or even after Nyx’s birth but alas. So anyways, here we are.

@nestaarcheronweek

Moments Masterlist

~*~

Part V: Shackled

Nesta surveyed the cerulean gown, fingers gliding over the satin before turning away. It was a silent rejection, one of many, and he moved out of the way as the tailor pursed her lips but replaced it with a red one. 

Cassian had come with her to help her pick out a dress for her sisters and Emerie to wear at their mating ceremony, but after the tenth one he was beginning to feel antsy. It wasn’t that he minded the small boutique, hidden amongst stores selling sweet caramels and cakes, or fresh bread and spiced meats. He’d been here before, rather, he’d been wrangled over with Mor and Amren, even with Azriel to find gifts for the females he never brought to meet them. 

It was Nesta’s neither here nor there look on her face that had him apprehensive. She’d been deemed fully healed and back at her full strength three days after the Blood Rite and so preparations for their Mating Ceremony had taken over immediately. She’d doled out the responsibilities the night before; Mor on decorations from whatever colors and schemes Nesta already had in mind, Elain and Feyre on the guest list, Azriel to set up security parameters, and Amren to confirm with all the vendors they bought from. Rhys was of course the master fund for all expenses, to which Nesta had agreed to with a sly smirk.

Yet today, their first day out together since everything had been settled, to find dresses and taste cakes, was proving to be difficult. If it had been a case of true dislike, or perhaps indecision, Cassian wouldn’t have minded. But Nesta had never been an indecisive person- she knew what she preferred and it never took her long to get what she had in mind. So he knew something was wrong when she’d given her silent or quiet rejections to the various cakes and dresses and flower assortments. 

“That’s alright,” he finally decided to cut in, before the boutique owner began laying out another collection of dresses. “We’ll come back another day. Thank you for your time today.”

The boutique owner didn’t seem to mind, likely happy to be rid of them, and he bade her another farewell while ushering Nesta out.

“We weren’t done,” Nesta said when they were finally a few paces away from the shop. “I need to get things done today if the ceremony is in a few days.” A risky timeline for a wedding ceremony, let alone a mating one that was as extravagant as they’d planned it to be. But he ignored that.

She had pulled herself out of his grip, crossing her arms in the middle of the cobblestone street, staring him down with that familiar fire. He’d missed it these past few days but had attributed it to exhaustion from the Rite or nerves from what she’d endured. And he’d stayed silent about it too. Perhaps stupidly, perhaps warily, but he’d kept quiet, even when the dejected look on her face seemed to be worsening with each passing day. 

“We’re not getting anywhere right now. How about we take a break and come back another day, Nes?” 

She didn’t move so he reached out his hand, waiting. Always waiting. Something was wrong but she’d speak when it was time. Until then, he was fine to walk with her in silence for however long she needed.

A few breaths passed but she finally loosened her stance, moving closer before grabbing his hand. He pulled her in tight, wrapping an arm around her waist before moving them down the street. She allowed it and he pressed a kiss to her crown before ushering them towards a juice stall with a long line.

She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. He traced the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose with his eyes, taking in the beauty. He might have been staring too long as a lovely blush colored Nesta’s cheeks and she shoved his face away.

“Stop that,” she snapped, but there was no bite to it.

“Never,” he promised, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheeks before changing to another line that was selling something that smelled tempting each time the wind blew past it.

”If you were hungry you could have just said that,” she huffed, but it was all amusement now.

He thought about it, taking a few steps forward as another order completed ahead of them. 

“Fine, yes, I did want to eat,” he admitted, ignoring the smirk she sent his way. “But I had us leave because it wasn't getting anywhere. You didn’t want to be there so why suffer through it.”

She stiffened in his hold and he knew he’d probably struck a chord. That hadn’t been his intention, but he cursed himself silently. Sometimes his honesty got him into more trouble than he asked for. 

They were silent for the rest of the line with Nesta only speaking to the vendor and ordering fried potatoes with cheese and a mint lemonade. 

”No, I don’t want fish, thank you,” she spoke quickly, cutting her eyes at him as he made to speak. She rolled her eyes at him as he paid, thanking the stall owner before grabbing their food.

”You could use the protein. We’re going back to regular training in a few weeks,” he called behind himself, knowing she’d have something cutting to add. He delighted in it, teasing her incessantly about her huffy dislike of all the things he tried to get her to eat. 

“And you could stand to skip it,” she said sweetly, with nothing kind in her smile. She reached for her plate and popped a wedge into her mouth before continuing. “I mean truly, I don’t know what they’re feeding you, Cassian. You don’t need any more muscles to ogle at.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t you mean more muscles for you to ogle at.”

Her eyes narrowed but she shook her head emphatically, finally giving into the banter he’d so desperately been trying to distract her somber mood with. 

“It’s embarrassing honestly, all the staring I get when I walk around with you and your wings hulking behind me. The size of you is scaring the poor citizens of Velaris.”

“You don’t seem to mind the size of me most days. And nights. Especially nights,” he added with a wicked grin. 

She blushed, breaking her gaze from his own, snickering quietly even as she stared out at the harbor.

“You’re an idiot,” she finally settled on, mouth twisted in a wry half-smile.

”You still laughed,” he pointed out, poking her cheek as she swatted him away.

They ate in peaceful silence, until a restless urge overcame him and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

“You're not happy.” It was an observation from the past few days. Her face, her mannerisms, her behavior all had him more worried with each day. 

“What?,” she asked, startled at his words.

He tried again, grabbing aimlessly for better words to get through to her.

“Doing all this I mean. I don't have much experience as a bride of course, but I think you're supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” she protested quickly. Too quickly. 

“I am,” she tried again, but it was quiet and a far more obvious lie this time than he was used to seeing from her. 

“I just mean, your heart doesn't seem to be into it. Do you not want this ceremony?” 

There he had said it. It had been a concern he'd toyed with for the past few days but he's convinced himself there was nothing to it. That he was imagining it. But he'd said the words and Nesta hadn't jumped to deny it. In fact she'd gone silent, looking everywhere but at him.

“We should go,” she finally said, her food half uneaten, lemonade completely untouched. “It's getting dark.”

And that was that. 

She seemed to be waiting for him to finish his food but he found his appetite wholly gone then. It was a quiet, painful walk back to the House of Wind and an even worse flight up. Nesta did not look at him, did not dare to meet his eyes, and he found himself secretly relieved. He didn't want to know what he'd find should she look up at him. Disappointment or anger or perhaps both.

Nesta broke away from his hold too quickly for him to not notice it and grimace. But something held her back, one foot in the terrace they’d arrived on and one foot inside the House, and Cassian watched expectantly.

”Can we talk?,” she asked softly, looking back towards him. Something was stirring in her blue-gray eyes and it gave him pause and a moment to reconsider. But something within him told him to agree, and go forward.

He took the few steps to reach her and placed a kiss at the back of her head. “Always,” he promised.

She led him to the smaller alcove they sometimes used to have lunch in between trainings. It was a cozy room, with a fireplace they no longer needed in the blooming heat of summer, and two plush armchairs facing each other.

Cassian sat, stiff and uncertain, but he did it. She settled in across from him and to an unpracticed eye they’d see her move as elegantly as ever. But he saw the faint tremor in her hands, her gaze, the nervousness in all of it. And it set him on edge.

”I didn’t want an audience,” she started. “Out there I mean,” she nodded to the terrace and the world that lay below them. “We’ve done that before and I don’t want to get into another screaming match over the Sidra while all of Velaris watches.”

So it would be that sort of talk. He had to agree though. It wasn’t his finest moment and considering they were extensions of the royal family, it didn’t represent them all very well by public opinion. 

Nesta played with an errant string on her shirt, fidgeting with it until he cleared his throat. She met his eyes then and he was terrified of what he saw. Before he could brace himself for whatever blow she was about to land, whatever hit-

“I think we should cancel the mating ceremony.”

The room was suddenly suffocating him. Hot and wretched air seemed to be all he could breathe in and the walls were definitely closing in around them. There was no way he’d heard her correctly.

“What?,” he blurted out. 

Nesta’s stricken face told him he hadn’t heard anything wrong and his worst nightmare was in fact turning true. Silence laid waste in the space between them, and the longer it went on the worse he felt. Nauseous and overheated and jumping out of his skin. 

“It was your idea,” he managed to bite out.

“I know…,” she sighed. “I know and I’m sorry-”

”Sorry…,” he chuckled, but it was cold. Flat.  

He shut his eyes, trying to reign in his temper. It had no place here, he knew that, not when she was trying her best to talk to him as calmly as possible. He knew she was going through something, had known for the past few days. Angry as he could feel himself getting he knew it would undo any progress they had made in the past year. Maybe all of it.

“Okay,” he started again, opening his eyes and taking in her guarded pose. “Can you…tell me why?”

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered pleadingly. He heard it, the tremble in her voice, and it broke his heart that she was this upset.

”We aren’t fighting sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Nesta curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her satin dress, and her arms seemed to be holding her together.

”I don’t think it’s a good idea. To have the ceremony.”

”You don’t want to be mated,” he summarized, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation. 

”No. It’s not that. I mean,” she met his eyes, some of the tension gone, to his relief. “We are mated. Technically. I just thought about it and the ceremony is official. I mean, we’re having the priestesses come in to bless it. I know all about that Cassian. It’s serious. It’s ordained by Prythian’s magic, the land’s magic. It is binding.”

Cassian scoffed. “And you don’t want that.”

”No,” she snapped. “I think you don’t.”

Before he could protest the shocking assumption she moved on, a hand shot up to halt him and whatever he had to say.

”My parents were a love match. Did you know? It was so rare where they’re from, so everyone in their families was against it. But they loved each other.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “It was supposed to solve everything. Should have. But when I was growing up, I know what I saw. Resentment and anger and frustration. They were stuck together and they hated what they’d become. My father loved my mother, and I think she loved him in her own way, but they weren’t good for each other, in the end.” She shook her head at the thought. “ And I see that now, far more clearly than I did when I was a child. I know how it happens and it never starts off obvious or grim. It starts off like this.” She motioned a hand between them.

“We are not your parents,” he pleaded, not even sure where this was coming from.

”We don’t know that,” she stated flatly. “And I don’t want you to wake up one day, ten, fifteen, two hundred years from now and realize that we want two very different things.”

”Nesta-“

She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear it. So soft yet laced with heartbreak. “I don’t want you to resent me. And I never want to hold you back.”

He shook his head emphatically, hoping she understood. “Never. You could never do that. That is not us. Wherever this is coming from, whatever you’re scared of, that isn’t us.” 

“It may be. It could be. It’s different for you,” she explained, shifting in her seat, hands wringing nervously in her lap. He wanted her to just look at him, hold his gaze in that fierce strong way he was so used to from her. But she was so on edge he didn’t know if she even could.

”Explain it to me” he said simply.

”You grew up here,” she tried, hands gesticulating around them. “This world, your world, it tells you these things about the mating bond that I have never heard of. That I can never understand. But I can tell from what little I’ve learned, it is sacred to all of you. It is…” she struggled to find the words. 

Nesta stood up then, and he was taken aback by the sudden movement. But he remained seated, focusing his attention wholly on her.

”I loved you,” she breathed out, holding his gaze in a tearful snare. “I loved you from the moment I met you. I knew it was only ever going to be you for me. And that was enough for me. If husband and wife was all I ever got, it was enough for me.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her too. That he’d been so enamored by her from that first moment they’d met, that he’d-

“I have only ever wanted you Cassian. But you, you wanted a mate.”

”No!” He shot up to his feet then too. He had to, to defend himself, to defend them.

Nesta ignored it, lifting her chin in defiance. “I don’t think I can ever live up to the myths and legends your people tell of such a union and the bond. Mates are equals in every sense of the word. We are matched somewhat in power but what else? I am not like you, nor your family. I am not good or kind or honorable.”

“You’re wrong,” he breathed out shallowly, moving towards her. She stepped back and it took everything in him to not howl at the motion. To gather her up in his arms and force her to listen, to see how wrong she was about him, about them, about it all. 

“You said it yourself, so many times Cassian. I just never wanted to see it. And your family…,” she scoffed. “They’ll likely never let me forget it.”

”They aren’t a part of this,” he growled. “Fuck them. Fuck them all. All I want is you. Do you not feel the same? Is that what it is?”

”I already told-,”

”Do you love me?,” he demanded. “You told me you wanted a mating ceremony and now you don’t. You also told me you loved me. Or was that a lie as well?”

She lifted her chin in defiance, hackles already rising at the bite in his tone. And just as suddenly as he’d seen her temper spike to match his, it seemed to completely disappear. Nesta seemed to turn inwards, eyes downcast. “You said you’d be shackled to me.” 

Cassian’s breath came out of him in a whoosh, and understanding had finally hit him. 

“I didn’t mean it.”

”Then you wouldn’t have said it,” she stated coldly. “But you did, and, I can’t even blame you. I would not be my own first choice for a mate, so why would you? Given everything you have heard of this bond, in what reality would you ever want to be with someone like me. I fall flat of all the expectations and I see it and I accept it and that is why I’m canceling our ceremony. You want a mate but you would not have it be me if you had a choice. And I won’t force you into it.”

”Nesta,” he pleaded, hating the crack in his voice. Hating all that he’d done to get them to this point. He’d take it all back, all of it, if only to reverse this moment right here. 

Nesta did not wait to hear more, see more, skirts bustling as she hurried out of the room, Cassian reaching his hand out far too late to catch her.

~*~

He would wait it out. That was what he’d promised himself when she’d locked herself away from him. He's convinced himself that he should take a step back, give her some space, and they’d try again the next day. Perhaps they just needed to cool off and Nesta more so than him, needed time to re-evaluate. But that plan had quickly disappeared when he remembered the broken look on her face as she’d reminded him of his cruel words.

Shackled.

It took him back to that night on the bridge. He’d thought to wait out then too, opting to see her the following day when they’d both had time apart. And what had it gotten him? A mate who’d been stolen from her bed in the middle of the night, likely convinced he hated her. And he’d never made it right had he? In all these days together, planning and teasing, joking and smiling, he’d never corrected himself. Never apologized the way he’d rehearsed and planned to as he’d made the flight to Emerie’s house the day of the Blood Rite. 

No, waiting wouldn’t be an option today. He’d given her an hour and then made his way upstairs. 

He knocked at the door forcing his heart to ignore the soft, muted cries he heard beyond it. If he let himself feel it all as he often did, he may tear down the door itself to get to her. Every instinct in him was roaring to the surface and he barely subdued them.

“Go away Cassian.”

“Please.” It was all he said, all he could say, but something in it seemed to have gotten through to her because he heard a murmur and then the telltale click of the lock. A phantom wind opened the door and blew him in, and he murmured a silent thank you up to the House. 

The bed dipped as Cassian seated himself beside her, and Nesta burrowed her head further under the covers.

A tense silence filled the room and he heard Nesta grit her teeth. Cassian shifted closer.

“I didn’t mean what I said-”

“But you-”

“I know,” Cassian cut her off. “I know I did anyways. I shouldn’t have said it at all. It was spoken in anger and, Nes, it was a mistake.”

Nesta didn’t speak but she did remove the covers from over her and sit upright. Cassian controlled the urge to reach out and smooth her hair, the lines on her face and her tearstained lashes. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Cassian insisted again, extending his hand towards her splayed out on the bed. She withdrew it sharply before he could react and he swore he felt something shear against his heart. Cut and slice and dice him up inside at the small motion.

“You did.” She may have tried to keep the accusation out of her tone but there was only so much that she could do. And only so much he could ignore. “I saw it in your face. You meant it, Cassian. Don’t make yourself a liar just to make me wrong.”

“I…” Words died on Cassian’s lips and he looked away. “I didn’t mean it in that way though,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What other way is there to mean what you said?,” she snapped.

Cassian got off the bed and turned his back to her. His wings twitched with irritation and he tamped down the urge to spread them to ease this edginess in his bones. 

“You’re young,” Cassian’s voice shook when he finally spoke. His hands shook and he interlaced them to calm himself down. “You’re powerful, you’re…so strong, Nesta. So strong. And you could have so much more.”

He turned slightly, dragging a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so tired. Nesta did not speak but her eyes were wide, glistening with something he couldn’t place. 

“You could have had a kingdom. Could have been a queen with the power you had.” He shifted on his feet. “Still have,” he added on. “You could have had a prince who would have become a High Lord one day.” 

He spat out the words High Lord, not caring if Nesta realized that the ire he felt towards Eris was still strong and present.  

“You’re settling with a bastard.” He felt her flinch at the word, but Cassian went on as if he hadn’t seen it. “I have no name to give you and no title to share. You’re shackled to me, and you could do so much better. And I hate that,” he admitted with a bitter laugh, “But it’s the truth. And it’s why I was so angry that night. Because I know all that but still I was hoping I could have you. That I could ever endeavor to be worthy of you.” 

“You are,” she insisted, breaking the silence that had built up between them. Her lip wobbled but she didn’t cry. Instead she reached out a hand to him, and he took it on instinct. But he did not join her on the bed, instead falling to his knees before her. Nesta tightened her hold on his hand and he reveled in it. Delighted in that reassurance that no matter what, she was still here, still willing to hear him out.

“From the moment I met you, I was falling for you.” A whispered confession but he’d kept it from her for too long. She was doubting him. Them. And he couldn’t allow it. 

“I knew, and my brothers knew, and the wiser option would have been to stay away. You were human and fragile and mortal, and it was never going to end well. And I promised myself I would stay away, but I couldn’t. You were so…,” he struggled with his words. There was a band around his neck and it was hard to speak. But he did it anyways, nearly choking. “You were beautiful, and you were fierce, and loyal and brave. Everything you wanted to keep hidden from the world, I saw it. Nesta, I saw you.”

Nesta blinked back tears, holding her composure far more than he thought he was going to. 

“I know,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

”I kept finding stupid excuses to come see you,” he chuckled dryly. “A letter to the queens, a message from Feyre, all bullshit. I just needed to see you because I wanted to know you, all of you. Then you fought with those queens and you defended the humans in your land. And I saw you plead with them for mercy, to help your people, and they mocked you for it- I nearly killed them right then and there. Rhys had to go into my mind and tamp down on me.”

He stopped before he made this new confession. Because it would either fall short on expectations or it would heal them.

”It was then that I knew I was in love with you. You are good and kind and honorable, and I am sorry you don’t see it. You were standing up for those who had no voice. You were courageous, loyal, and fighting for justice and righteousness and innocent lives. It was everything I had spent my entire life fighting for on killing fields and strategy rooms. I remembered how many times my pleas fell on deaf ears. And I knew then, that you were it for me, that I was in love with you, and that we were probably going to die in that war anyways, but it didn’t matter to me because I had found the woman I wanted to spend whatever time was left of my life with. The mating bond hadn’t even registered to me yet, Nesta.”

Nesta was crying now, silent tears streaming down her lovely face and it was all he could do to not reach over and wipe them away. All of his instincts roaring to the surface to cut and kill and hurt whoever had hurt her. Except it was him. He had hurt her, so who was punished then?

”And I will never forgive myself for what happened with Hybern. I promised to protect you and I did everything but. When Hybern threw you into the Cauldron, right before you went in, you looked for me. In a full room of your sisters you were looking for me, just as I have always been looking for you.”

Nesta nodded, confirming what he’d always suspected. It was the bond he’d felt between them when she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. She had sought him out in those moments of desperation before she’d drowned in that black water, and he had died a thousand deaths watching her go in, helpless and useless as she fought alone.  

“The mating bond snapped, and you went under the surface. I felt you drown, I felt you die, I felt you beg for someone to help you and then I felt your anger when you decided to save yourself and take something back. And it meant nothing to me. The mating bond. I was grateful to it, but all that moment caused you was pain and fear that will likely follow you for your entire life. And I would do anything to take that away from you if I could.”

He lifted her hand, clenched and bone-white in his own, to his lips, and he kissed it savoring the blood and life and warmth he felt under his lips. That she was here with him. Through it all, here she was, this female, borne of darkness and anger and fear and strength and calamity. Still she was here, still she was his, and still she stood tall and proud beside him. He’d never stop marveling at her, at all she was, and all she had survived and fought for to get here. 

With him.

Cassian pressed another kiss to her wrist. “I am in love with you. I love you. I will always love you. I don't need a bond to tell me that. Even if we didn't have it I’d tell you the same. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, no matter what.  I never want to be apart. I want whatever you want. If you don’t want a mating ceremony, damn it to hell, we don’t do it. If you want to take some time and think, that’s fine too.”

Nesta stroked his cheek and he burrowed into it. That warmth and life she held for him. 

“But know that I love you Nesta and I will never resent you for being you. I will never not want to be with you. Ten years from now, two hundred years from now, you are all I will ever want by my side. Know that if nothing else.”

He had never been one for poetry, for flowery words and beautiful language. It wasn’t in him but something in him knew this much had to be said. They’d had a whirlwind relationship these past few months and he knew so much had been left unsaid. Some of it was fine, but some of it he knew had led to distress. To him. To her. He’d had so much more to say the night she’d all but banished him and gone to Emerie’s. So much planned and he’d never done it, never thought to in the aftermath of the Blood Rite and Nyx’s birth.

But Cassian had been consumed by her from the moment they’d met. And every moment after. If she doubted him, them, he had to do something about it. 

He waited apprehensively for an answer, a sign, something, anything from Nesta to know what their next move would be. 

Nesta didn’t break his hold on her, nor did her gaze lower from his own. 

Nesta’s voice broke when she finally spoke.

“I love you too. I always will. I…I don’t know what the future is going to bring and I’m scared,” she whispered before leaning down and touching her forehead to his own.

He breathed her in, sighing with relief as some of the tension in both of them loosened.

“We’ll deal with it, all of it, as it comes. I’m here with you. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nesta seemed to be holding in a sob. “Do you promise?”

He ran a hand down her face, her back, soothingly. She was all but shaking. 

“I promise,” he said before kissing her. She kissed him back fervently and they were both out of breath when she finally broke apart. 

Cassian opened his eyes and watched her. He vowed, “I promise, on breath and blood, I will be with you for as long as you’ll have me. I will love you for the rest of our entire lives and I will cherish every moment we are given together. And when this world ends I will search for you in the next. And through it all, I will never stop loving you.”

Nesta smiled softly at that, before reaching for him again for another kiss. The kiss could have ended worlds. It could have stopped time. It was just them in that moment, bound by the very fabric of their souls, with the melody of their bond soaring high before tightening stronger within each other. 

He’d meant every word. 

So long as he breathed, he would be by her side, unyielding, loving her with every moment of their lives. 

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#Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar #Nesta #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron

[tswhiisftteedr]

Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

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[everscorner]

Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption

Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’

That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him. 

His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news. 

Girlfriend of the Year, right?

‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’ 

You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books. 

Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy. 

Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it. 

Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you. 

‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’

Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.

Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him. 

‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’ 

Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows. 

‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’

You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.

‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’ 

‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’ 

It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot. 

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’

It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting. 

If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar. 

Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’ 

It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time. 

Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’ 

There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news. 

You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child. 

With Jude’s assistance, of course.

‘Do you want to record it?’

‘Record what?’ 

You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table. 

‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’ 

Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun. 

‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’ 

‘We’ll figure it out.’ 

Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations. 

‘Is your camera charged?’

You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat. 

Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out? 

‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch. 

You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open. 

‘What’s that for?’

‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’ 

Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog. 

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’

And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house. 

Booooo! 

You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you. 

‘Well, that was easy.’

You beg to differ, but whatever. 

Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’

You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing. 

Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention. 

‘I’m not sure.’ 

And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie. 

The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again. 

Surely this is no way to live. 

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom. 

Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent. 

‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’ 

She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever. 

‘We don’t want any surprises.’

You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him. 

‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’

Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.

But that was a long time ago.  

‘Oooh, what’s this?’

Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island. 

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly. 

She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box. 

‘What the. . .’ 

‘It’s crazy, right?’ 

She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’ 

You hum.

She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’ 

Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand. 

You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend. 

‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents. 

And here you thought she had forgotten about that. 

‘Just so we have an idea.’ 

You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend. 

‘Yeah, alright.’ 

Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude. 

‘He bought this for you?’ 

‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it. 

Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it. 

‘Lucky bitch.’

‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans. 

You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?

You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him. 

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out. 

You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now. 

‘You ready, Wins?’ 

She smiles, ‘Ready.’ 

‘Alright then, let’s go.’ 

///

When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal. 

For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas. 

Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better. 

And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.

Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight. 

Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.

You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part? 

You keep allowing him to get away with it. 

But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning. 

Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet. 

Fuck. 

You: Not yet, but soon :) 

You hope. 

She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.

But whatever, right? 

People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you. 

‘Babe?’ 

And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–

‘Y/N?’

Oh shit, he’s home!

You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.

Fuck! 

In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club. 

Guess he didn’t catch that text. 

‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.  

But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording. 

This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame. 

‘Baaaaybeeee?’ 

His voice sounds closer now. 

‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow. 

With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail. 

‘Why are you hiding in here?’ 

Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you. 

‘Hiya.’

This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden? 

As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads. 

‘Hi, gorgeous.’ 

He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out. 

With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home. 

‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign. 

‘Uh, ‘cause.’

You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it. 

‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles. 

You hum.

‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.

You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record. 

‘How was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘The club?’

‘Fine.’ 

And that’s all he’s willing to offer.

‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’ 

She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing. 

‘And you didn’t join her?’ 

‘No.’ 

You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.

But how do you save it?

‘Why are you asking about her?’

‘Just curious, I guess.’ 

‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’

He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much. 

With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’

Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it. 

‘You do?’ 

And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though. 

‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’ 

Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body. 

‘Jude, relax. . . please.’ 

Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety. 

With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.

‘Surprise,’ you say softly. 

You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.

You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.

‘Is this for real?’ 

You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes. 

‘It is?’

The first tear falls. 

‘Oh, baby.’ 

Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs. 

Man, he’s so strong. 

Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp. 

‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’ 

He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is. 

‘I think you are.’ 

‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled. 

You giggle when he tickles you. 

His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.

Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose. 

‘How far along are you?’ 

Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice. 

‘That’s what, almost two months?’ 

In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body. 

‘Did you know?’

‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late.  ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’ 

‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’ 

You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island. 

‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’

He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’ 

‘My obstetrician.’

The scowl deepens.

You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’

‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’

‘Obstetrician.’

‘Yeah, that.’

You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso. 

Dr Morena is your family GP.  

There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’

‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Winnie knew before me?’ 

The offence is evident in his voice.

‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’

He grunts.

‘Are you mad at me?’ 

‘Kinda.’ 

Well, now you feel bad. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’

But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . . 

‘Oh, come on, Jude.’

He’s pouting, your big baby.

‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’

It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when: 

‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’ 

A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter. 

‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’

‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him. 

The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago. 

‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’ 

And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros. 

‘What are you thinking?’ 

‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away. 

But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day. 

With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs. 

‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs. 

Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.

‘There.’ 

He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’

You didn’t know this about him.

‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’ 

It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan. 

‘How about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.

You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand. 

‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’ 

‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles. 

You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’ 

He kisses the top of your head. 

‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.

It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him. 

‘That’s really tiny.’

‘Right?’ 

Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this. 

Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude. 

‘Where’re you going?’ 

His grip is firm around your waist. 

‘I’m going to get the camera.’

He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand. 

‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him. 

‘She?’ 

Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.

‘You think the baby’s a girl?’ 

He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’

You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’

He makes a face. 

‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle. 

He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’ 

You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’

You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper. 

‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’ 

You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes. 

‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’

Huh? 

You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’ 

You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands. 

‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter. 

‘How are you not seeing this?’ 

He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this? 

‘Are you high?’ 

His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’ 

‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’

‘I like your boobs, you know this.’ 

You do. And you like his butt. 

‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’

And horny. 

You turn the faucet to run the water. 

As you’d imagine, not much showering is done. 

‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.

‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you. 

This is not what you came here to do. 

You’re both covered in suds. 

‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’

‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips. 

‘Jude!’ you squeal. 

He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.

You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.

A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin. 

‘Jude. . .’

You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you. 

He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’ 

His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .

///

For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast. 

It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby. 

But only positive thoughts in this kitchen. 

You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it. 

You put the toast into the oven and set the timer. 

At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around. 

That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really. 

This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read: 

Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me. 

You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation. 

She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months. 

‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.

But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day. 

Easy. 

A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt. 

He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow. 

How cute? 

When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied. 

‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’ 

You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again. 

Still, nothing. 

‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’ 

He grunts, then sends you away. 

‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness. 

But he doesnʼt budge. 

Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’ 

There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’ 

Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.

‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’

He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor. 

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’ 

He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’

You didn’t know that. 

But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’ 

You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’

‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’

He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’

Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’ 

‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’ 

‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’ 

He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge. 

You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.

He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows. 

This is a good reaction. 

‘You like it?’ 

‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’

‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’ 

‘Get your own.’ 

Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’ 

With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’

You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone. 

The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it. 

Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’ 

Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love. 

‘A visual artist?’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘So he’s broke?’ 

‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide. 

He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny. 

‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’ 

‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’ 

Yeah, right. 

‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’ 

‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.

The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.

‘Will you come with?’

‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’

‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’ 

‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’

‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’ 

Huh? ‘I’m not?’ 

‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’ 

He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,

‘What time is it?’ 

‘Early.’ 

‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’ 

‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’

‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’ 

But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you. 

Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’ 

‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’

He swells with pride—men. 

‘Will you join me?’

Jude perks up. 

‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’ 

And he’s dejected. 

‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’ 

That’s fine by you. 

He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while. 

///

What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.  

Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️

You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole. 

You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this. 

You: I’m having the worst time

You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄

And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you. 

Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑‍🎨

You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/ 

And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward. 

Jude: Well fuck him 

His text makes you chortle. 

At least Winnie’s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it. 

You can’t be here anymore. 

‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.

She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’ 

‘Sure.’

She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner. 

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’

‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’ 

She’s buying it, good. 

‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’ 

‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it. 

‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’ 

You are her ride home after all. 

‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’ 

‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’ 

It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her. 

‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’

‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper. 

You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t. 

‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’

‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’ 

Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. 

‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’

‘Promise to text me when you get home.’ 

‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss. 

You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there. 

It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.

You: I miss you.

As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy. 

You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route. 

The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails. 

But first: 

You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x

Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.  

You: Did you tell them about… 🫄

Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.

That’s a good plan. 

You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x

Jude: I love you more 😘

Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon. 

The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door. 

Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door. 

The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie. 

Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit. 

‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’ 

The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’ 

You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom. 

‘I know he isn’t.’

She does?

‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’

Of course she’s here to see you. 

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’ 

“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?

‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’ 

Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?

‘Can I come in?’

‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’

‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’

‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’ 

‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’ 

The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy. 

‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’ 

‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’

And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.

‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’

‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’ 

On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket. 

You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy

You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.

Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window. 

‘Sorry I took so long.’

Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’ 

Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum. 

This is so awkward. 

‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’

You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story. 

‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’

‘Affair?’

She winces at your choice of words. 

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘And he told you everything?’ 

‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’

She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her. 

‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’ 

It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’ 

She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’ 

You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap. 

‘Who made the first move?’ 

‘Jude did.’

Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it. 

‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’

You think you might throw up. 

‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails. 

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say? 

‘Do you love him?’ 

‘Does it matter?’

It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.

‘He’s hard not to love.’

That’s true.

‘But am I in love with him? No.’ 

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases. 

‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’

But the texts. . . what did they mean? 

‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’

‘Harmless?’

She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’ 

So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure. 

‘Who pursued it?’ 

‘What?’ 

‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it. 

‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’ 

‘Was it Jude?’ 

‘He loves you.’

‘I know he loves me.’ 

Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her. 

‘Did he pursue the affair?’

‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’

You nod. 

After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’

‘Don’t start with that crap.’ 

‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’

‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’ 

You tolerated her, there’s a difference. 

‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’ 

‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’ 

That shuts her up. 

‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’ 

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’ 

Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ 

‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

You sigh in relief. 

She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him. 

‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes. 

‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’ 

She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’ 

‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’ 

‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’

‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’ 

She flinches again. 

‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’ 

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’ 

‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’

You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark. 

‘Babe?’ 

Thank the heavens he’s here.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38. 

Where the hell is he?

You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.

It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic. 

‘Jude?’ 

You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him. 

His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far. 

‘Jude?’ 

As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table. 

A smile takes over your face at the sight of him. 

‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap. 

‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’ 

‘Pulp Fiction.’

Of course he is. 

‘Why’re you up?’ 

You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’

He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’ 

‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases. 

‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss. 

‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds. 

‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’ 

///

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