#so it took me like.. less than a month to finish it considering it's been dead for 2 weeks

[torturedtraveler]

dear xx univeristy application office,

Listen, I know I've been rejected and this personal statement is not going to mean anything. But I feel like writing it, as a reflection of the past few months.

With what happened in middle school, I got diagnosed with depression and anxiety and transferred schools. I started dating a friend but broke up shortly after. One day he jumped from our school building and passed away (he had bipolar), it felt like a slap across my face and from then on, I gave up on myself.

I stopped showing up to class consistently and socializing. Until one day in Form 6, I realized, I didn't understand any of the things my teachers were saying in class and I would have my IB exams in less than a year. I couldn't catch up, I couldn't do it. Again, I was impulsive and have always been so I decided to just quit IB and start A-Levels. Fast forward a few months, I found out that I still couldn't do it, because of my mental health, I couldn't pull through, and in the midst of it, my grandpa passed away. These all piled up on me again and I had to quit, again. I took one A-Level and IELTS and decided to apply for associate degree programs. I chose translation originally because I am fluent in both English and Chinese and I have always wanted to do something related to languages. However, something shifted in me one day, I applied to the same colleges but instead, in Psychology.

I went through what I would call "hell" in those 5-6 years in secondary, I struggled every day with mental health, with depression, with anxiety, and I wanted to do something in the future that could help kids like me. In fact, XX College gave me a conditional offer but unfortunately, my academic qualifications did not meet their requirements (probably because I didn't graduate from a secondary school) just like how I didn't meet your requirements and am not what you wanted. Fortunately, my current College accepted me for my qualifications and there I started my tertiary education.

The school year started off great and strong. I was attending classes every day, socializing with my classmates, handing in assignments, all these things I NEVER managed to do consistently in high school.

My family and friends were shocked about the transformation. I was actually working hard in school.

Hey, I know a 3.26 GPA might have not been the best and you were probably expecting something higher, but that wasn't what mattered, what mattered was, I changed. I started taking my academics seriously, even through hard days, when I felt tired and depressed (occasionally), I showed up to class and did my work, and I made friends, which again, was shocking considering I developed social anxiety after I was bullied in high school for my ex-boyfriends' suicide.

However, my anxiety got worse near the end of the first semester and I had to postpone my final requirements, nonetheless, I finished them at the start of semester B.

I don't know what went wrong from there, but it was obvious that my mental health was getting bad again because I wasn't showing up to class and I wasn't paying attention in class. Though I was still handing in assignments and working hard on them, I wasn't showing up to class consistently. I only acknowledged the decline of my mental health at the start of March, when I started isolating myself again and stopped talking to my mom, who has always been my best friend. Fast forward to my second mid-term test, I thought I would feel less pressured after finishing it, but nope, it only went downhill from there. I didn't show up to class for 2 consecutive weeks. My mom was asking me if I was okay, and my friends were asking me why I wasn't showing up to class. I repeatedly reassured them I was fine, I just needed some time off for myself, but in reality, I was only trying to reassure myself that I was fine because I refused to admit that I was having a relapse. I didn't want to accept it, I was doing so fine for so long, I was getting so much better, and everyone was praising me for it, what could go wrong? Well, reality sucks, and sometimes, depression creeps its way back into your life with no apparent reason.

April was when things got really bad, depression was presenting itself in physical ways. I caught a cold, and it got better after 3 days, but then I had abdominal pain, which escalated to stomachache. It was one of the worst physical pain I have ever felt in my life, I had a low fever and I could not stand up, my mom wanted to call the ambulance and get me to the hospital but I refused because I knew I had to wait to see the doctor and my pain would just worsen. I saw a doctor the next day and he informed me that it was gastroenteritis. I had to stay home for a few days because I was still in some level of pain. I was forced to put down my academics for a while. Aphthous ulcer found its way to my mouth later (and I actually still do have it at the current moment), and now I can't even have a proper meal without being in pain.

The physical symptoms weren't the worst part. Do you know that feeling of working on an assignment one day in an empty room in the school library on a Saturday afternoon, listening to jazz and making good progress, and all of a sudden you stared at a blank wall and started bawling your eyes out? That's what happened to me. I experienced that consecutively for a week. Just completely random moments in life, you were feeling fine the last second, and the next, you were crying for your dear life.

I was in the shower once and suicidal thoughts consumed my mind, I was bombarded with all the ways I could end my life, jumping off a building, hanging myself, cutting myself, etc. I felt despairful, worthless, exhausted, all the worst emotions you could possibly think of, and was just ready. Ready for me to leave because I had no worth, I wasn't showing up to class and it was reflected in my grades. I mustered up the strength to call in my mom because for a split second there I still wanted to hold on, I didn't want to give up just quite yet.

All these were happening, because I had so much pressure on my shoulders, that I imposed on myself, to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university in my city, to get into XX Univeristy. I didn't want to spend 2 years in community college and wanted to ascend to university as fast as I could.

I received your university's rejection yesterday, and let me tell you, yesterday was an awful day. To start with, rains flooded the streets near my school campus, even under an umbrella I was drenched, from head to bottom. I arrived on campus completely soaked, with water in my shoes. At that point, I was already depressed (bad weather could seriously affect your mood), nonetheless, I told myself "It was a bad experience, but that will not dictate your day, you still have a full day ahead of you", so I mustered a smile on my face and went straight to class. I was chatting with friends as it was the last class and we were all just doing revisions. I went to the library shortly after.

I wasn't as productive as I wanted to be because 1) I wasn't motivated and 2) Depression can really interfere with your daily life functioning, for example, doing work. I didn't get as much done as I wanted to so I decided, maybe it was time to go home.

I took the train, I bought myself dinner, I grabbed the mail, I went home. I sat down, with my dinner in front of me, and opened up the application portal on my laptop.

The word "unsuccessful" was under my application status and into my eyes.

I kid you not, I felt like my life had ended right there. Everything that I had worked so hard for, all the pressure I had imposed on myself to get a high GPA, to get into a prestigious university, and the high hopes that I had, all faded in one single moment.

I called my mom screaming and crying, shouting into the phone about how miserable I was, I was in so much pain. I couldn't think straight and my mom reassured me that she was on her way home. She arrived, grabbed a chair, and sat next to me.

Essentially our conversation went on for about 45 minutes, and I remember distinctly, one of the things she said was, "So? That's it?". It was a wake-up call for me.

All this time, the amount of pressure I've put on myself, the sleepless nights I've had to experience, the physical symptoms, the mental symptoms, etc. All because of one number that I ignorantly thought would dictate my future. I lost sight of what I originally did this for. In working towards getting into university to get a degree where I could help people, I ironically forgot to help myself. I lost sight of what was important in the current moment, my priority is not yet to help others struggling with mental health, it's me, I'm struggling with my mental health, I am my priority. I neglected my mental health and what I truly needed, it wasn't grades, it was self-love. Caring for myself, listening to my needs, attending to myself, and acknowledging that I was struggling.

It's okay to relapse. It's okay to know that you need help. It's okay that you're depressed again even if you thought you didn't have depression anymore. It's okay that it's near finals season but you're mentally struggling, maybe you need to postpone again, and that's okay. Do you know why? Because we're humans, and it's okay to not be okay.

All these years of struggling, I haven't done much with my life and I desperately wanted to prove to myself and everyone else, that for once, I could do something, I am capable of something. I wanted to get into a university, a prestigious one, the top in my city, to redeem myself. Because my sister got into a good university, and my friends from high school got into good universities. I NEED to prove to people that I am not dumber than them, just because I wasted a few years in secondary school doesn't mean I am less smart than them. I can still get into university.

I am just as good. Not because of good grades or whether I am in a good university or not though. I am a good person because I have a good heart, I care for everyone around me deeply and I'm always there for them even if I'm struggling. I am a good person because I have a passion, I want to work hard to achieve my passion and help people professionally. I am a good person because I have hobbies, I have things I enjoy doing and I do my best to advance my skills, and to work hard to achieve small goals in life.

I am a good person because I haven't given up on myself yet. 6 years of depression and anxiety, and countless times standing on a ledge, wanting to jump but convincing myself not to.

Because my ultimate goal in life is to be happy, I know there will be bad days and bad experiences, some days might feel like the end of the world (just like yesterday), but some would feel like I'm floating on cloud 9. That doesn't equal a bad life. And I'm learning to accept that.

I want to be surrounded by people I love, loving them back in the same way so they know they're not alone because they were there for me when I was at my lowest. I am the happiest when I'm loving, I'm giving, and when I'm learning. Psychology is something I'm passionate about, not the GPA system. What I should do in the current moment is to learn, enjoy the process, and work hard to show my teachers, and myself, that I have done my best with what I've learned.

Thank you for your rejection. Your wake-up call. If it weren't for this, I wouldn't have realized what I was doing wrong this whole time and I probably would've stayed in that same position for a while. I'm taking it day by day now, and I'm getting better, and that's what truly matters.

My deepest gratitude for reviewing my application and considering it. Also for reading this if you have.

Thank you, I truly, deeply, appreciate it.

Warmest regards,

Ruby

24-04-24

#university #rejection #college #psychology #letters #poetry

[writingmeraki]

here and now.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married )

genre : angsty with fluff :)

warnings : reader is pretty miserable, cussing, cheol is mean but annoying mean, petnames, kissing, unhealthy routines.

author's note : ohhh i can't let go of these two, i rlly jst like this au a lot lol, i wonder if you would want more set in this same au, lmk hehe :) hope you like this !! but also the fact that i have other wips but i can't get this specific couple out of my head ???? very self indulgent bcoz tell me why i want this mingyu with me rn. also third work this month...let's hope we keep balling like that!!!

set in the SAME universe as this !

word count : 1.6k

The world was miserable.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay in your bed, sleeping until you could no longer differentiate between reality and dreamland.

But alas, you couldn’t. As an agent, sleep to you was like a reward. One would think a need should never be something you get once in a while but, your job was practically making all your essentials feel like rewards. 

Mayhaps not the healthiest, but you were already used to it and your body as well, so you were not truly affected when you couldn’t get any of your essentials. 

Though, you were sure the world felt more miserable because you hadn’t seen him in so long.

Kim Mingyu, the man you married. Your husband.Your other half, your other puzzle piece, your other- you get the point. Six months, twelve days, and ten hours since you last saw him. 

He was gone on a mission that was supposed to take no less than a month, but who were you kidding? Who was your boss kidding? Top priority missions always took up time. 

The thing that still pisses you off is why you weren’t allowed to go with him. 

Apparently, you were needed back in Seoul and not there was the bullshit reason. You spent enough time being annoyed and angry at that, now you just felt terribly upset. Upset without him in your life physically, sure virtually he was one message away, but being on the complete opposite side of the globe also meant time zones were a pain in the ass.

Sighing, you made your way into the tall building disguised as one of the offices but it was where your agency was. You held a cup of coffee, that was just as bitter as your mood, in fact you didn’t even like coffee, but today you felt no point in trying to uplift your mood because the only thing that would was a certain person who you were not even sure when you’d meet. 

It was not you who felt this way, in fact Mingyu was probably feeling worse. Having been someone whose love language was physical affection, it did not feel the same through a fucking screen. He was ready to quit actually, three months into it because he terribly wanted to see you, but you convinced him he’d be back sooner if he finished it. 

You knew you were lying to him and yourself, but you had no choice. This was your duty right? 

The boss’ office was still as peculiar as he was, never failing to amuse you whenever you’d enter and always finding new collections or items decorating it. Today, you saw an art piece that was of the sun and the moon. 

Everything reminded you of him. He was your sun, even your moon too. 

You frowned more at the thought, wondering how the heck were you not able to not think of him for a few minutes. Then again, perhaps being together for more than a decade would do the trick. You’re practically bound permanently by that point. 

Sitting down on the cushion chair in front of Seungcheol, you didn’t even bother greeting him, still in thoughts until you heard a chuckle from in front of you. 

“What’s funny?”

“You look extra miserable today.” 

You glared at the man, annoyance changing into anger with retorts about how he’d feel if he was kept away from his partner for this long, considering he was someone who was pretty boastful about his partner. 

“But- I did not call you for that. I have a special mission for you. And no, I don’t have any updates on Mingyu.”

You groaned at his words, considering what he said was just getting worse and worse as he spoke. 

“For this though, you’ll have someone with you. You’ll be needing another person to complete this task. They should be arriving in a few minutes.” 

“Please don’t be a rookie, I don’t have the patience to deal with one, not right now.” You figured you couldn’t not do it. It was your job after all. But perhaps he’d be a little considerate. 

“Oh don’t worry, I think they are pretty experienced, maybe even more than you.” He grinned but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what he meant. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t tell. 

“Just say you hate me, Cheol. It’s easier.” You bitterly spat out, taking a sip of the now cold coffee and frowning in distaste. It seemed it was up to par with your state. 

You leaned back, looking at the watch on your wrist, seeing it’s been a few minutes already and wondering just how long this person would take. 

You tried to pinpoint who it possibly was, but you were never good with names of people you might have seen in passing. That was more of Mingyu’s thing, he always remembered the forgettable things. 

The sound of the door opening was what made you perk up. You sat a little straighter, feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t make it outwardly obvious to the entire population how you were truly feeling. 

Seeing the chair pull, you didn’t bother looking besides you, feeling that seeing them from the corner of your eye was enough. They were a little further from you, but you could tell they were quite…large? They were wearing a cap and a mask, practically their entire body was covered with a black coat. It was suspicious and you just wondered if this was just an excuse for Seungcheol to have you murdered in a discreet way. 

Seokmin…? No, he's almost my height, probably Chan? 

You didn’t even realise the person had taken your coffee, pulled off their mask,took a sip of it and almost spat it out. 

“Baby this is actually so disgusting, since when did you drink this?” 

Wait.

You recognised that voice. 

He kept the cup back down on the table in front of you, wearing that very very familiar ring on his left ring finger. 

You think your brain short circuited at that very moment. 

Now you knew why Seungcheol had a sly grin. 

The fucker planned this. 

In all his glory, Kim Mingyu sat beside you, now seeing no point in wearing the cap, he tossed it off and threw it on the table. He shuffled his hair, which was now longer than you last saw it.

“Missed me?” He had the audacity to say that with his stupid canines peaking out, wearing that stupid grin that made you feel giddy all over and the stupid glint in his eyes that shone as he took you in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Mingyu for making you feel like throwing up in all mixes of emotions. 

So in the mix of it, you just remained frozen. Eyes blank, nothing on your face physically to indicate any emotion. 

“I’ll leave you two…just don’t do…stuff.” Seungcheol retorted and your hands itched to strangle him. 

Before you could even comprehend you were now alone, you felt your chair being pulled to face him. Your mind still in disbelief and conflict.

“Hi.” He spoke gently, his hands now reaching towards yours and grasping them. It had been way too long since he smelt your signature perfume, held your hands in his with the same intensity, felt your touch. He thinks he might just die in peace now. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if I’m dreaming.” You murmured as you blinked slowly at him, still unmoving even though he now was bent down and closer to you.

The grin on his face widened as he leaned in, and next thing you know, you felt his lips on yours. 

Familiar…just like…home. 

He pulled back, still smiling as he softly laughed, “Real enough, darling?”

Mingyu wasn’t someone who was caught off-guard easily but he was the moment you launched forward and wrapped your arms around him. He yelped as he held you, surprisingly not toppling over.

You didn’t even grasp you were full on sobbing at that point, your entire body shaking and held you even more tightly. He stood up, one arm around your waist and the other gently rubbing your back. 

“I’m here now, I’m here.” He whispered softly as his hand caressed your hair, you moved your arms to wrap them over his shoulder as you placed your head in the crook of his neck. 

“i-i really-” missed you. I felt incomplete without you. I just…I really missed you. I really fucking love you.

You wanted to say as cheesy as it may have sounded, but cheesiness be darned you couldn’t hold back, not when the time apart made you realise that it didn’t matter if it was just another way of showing your love for him. You also realised Kim Mingyu deserved all possible ways of showing your love for him.

“I know, ‘s okay baby, I know.” You only sobbed harder as you pulled back, not caring how you looked, probably a whole mess with red eyes and tears all over, his arms were still around you as you held his face with both hands. 

He was there. You thought as you caressed his cheeks. He was there. You thought as he looked at you like he’d finally found his treasure,eyes twinkling, smiling at you.

And he was there, right there, with you as you tilted your head up, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his. 

Because no matter what or how long, Kim Mingyu would always find his way back to you, his other forever half. 

And oh, you’d make sure he was never apart from you from then on. Not even for a day. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

#[ pri works ] #mingyu x reader #svt #svt fic #svt mingyu #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt x you #svt x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu seventeen #mingyu svt #mingyu x y/n #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen x reader #seventeen fics #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader

[girlgenius1111]

arrival

alexia x r - mila verse :) the arrival of little baby mila. talk of pregnancy and giving birth, obviously.

You hated being pregnant. Some women, you knew, loved it. You were not one of those people. You felt humongous, everything hurt all the time, you felt sick most of the time, and more than anything, you just wanted to meet your baby girl. You were excited to give birth, if for no other reason than finally getting to be done being pregnant. 

And it wasn’t that you thought labor would be easy, not at all. You were just very sure you could handle it. If it meant getting your baby to you safely, you could do it. 

You didn’t consider that maybe your body wouldn’t be able to do it, or that your baby wouldn’t cooperate either. No, you naively thought you were past the stage where there could be complications. Labor would be difficult, you were sure, but it would be over and done after a couple of hours. You had nothing to worry about. That was what you thought. 

-------

You were in the shower when your water broke, which was actually really lucky. No mess to clean up, and you could finish your shower before heading to the hospital. 

“Ale!” You shouted, turning the water off briefly to hear your wife’s footsteps running down the hall towards you. 

“Are you okay?” Alexia asked, bursting into the bathroom, looking around frantically. 

You were completely calm when you responded, knowing that if you panicked, Alexia would panic. “I’m fine. My water broke. I’m gonna finish washing my hair, can you get the bag ready? And bring me some clothes?”

“Your… you… it is…. tiempo de bebe?” Alexia spluttered, looking shocked, as if you hadn’t been pregnant for 9 months.  

“Yes, Ale, baby time.” You smiled, turning the water back on and continuing to rinse your hair out. 

Alexia turned toward the door and then back to you at least 3 times before she seemed to get a handle on herself, taking a deep breath, and yanking the shower door back open. 

“Amor, we need to go! Get out, get out, you cannot give birth here, it is not clean!”  

You rolled your eyes, turning off the water and holding your hand out for your towel. Alexia misunderstood, grabbing your hand with both of hers, eyes wide.

 “My towel, babe.” Your wife nodded her head rapidly, grabbing your towel and carefully wrapping it around you. She was practically bouncing up and down as you took your time getting out of the shower and began to dry off. “Alexia. The bag. Clothes. Vamos, there is a person inside of me that wants to get out.” 

“Sí, sí,” Alexia said, rushing out of the bathroom. She’d only made it a few feet before you heard a crash in the hall, one that sounded like she’d tripped over her own feet.  “Estoy bien!” She shouted, confirming that she had, in fact, tripped. 

You shook your head, not sure whether to laugh or cry, knowing you needed to step in before her poor head exploded. She returned with clothes for you to pull on, watching anxiously as you did so, to ensure you didn’t need help. Once you were dressed, she turned to go grab the hospital bag, but you stopped her before she could get very far. 

“Ale, ven aquí,” you called. Your wife turned back towards you, forehead wrinkling with worry as she walked back over to you, gently taking your hands in hers. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I call for an ambulance?”  

“I’m fine. Breathe for a second, baby.” You told her, smiling sympathetically when she shook her head.

“Amor, we-” 

“No, Alexia, you need to relax. Take a deep breath, please. Everything is fine. We have time. We have a plan. We’re okay.” You reminded her, squeezing her hands as she dutifully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, they were clearer, and she looked determined. 

“I am going to get the bag. Do not move.” She instructed, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before she walked calmly from the room. 

-------

You were decidedly less calm hours later, when you began to have contractions. Not the little ones that had started in the car, but contractions, ones that felt like you were being ripped open from the inside out.  You were, to put it nicely, a huge baby. You wanted the epidural as soon as possible, but the doctors said you weren’t far enough along, yet, and you’d have to wait so it didn’t wear off too early. This made sense, in theory, but it was making less and less sense after 12 hours had passed, and nothing was looking any different. You laid in the hospital bed, hand gripping your wifes much too tightly, teeth gritted as another contraction ripped through you.  

“You are doing so good, mi amor, this one is almost over,” Alexia encouraged softly, trying not to flinch at the strength with which you were squeezing her hand. “I love you, I love you so much.” 

You knew seeing you in such pain was torture for Alexia, having to watch and know she could do nothing about it. You were losing your nerve, though, growing less and less calm and less and less sure that you could actually do this as every minute passed. And even in the middle of giving birth, you were hyper aware of your wife, not wanting to cause her any unnecessary anxiety or sadness. 

“Ale, can you go ask if I can have the epidural yet?” You asked after the contraction passed, deciding you just needed a few minutes alone to pull yourself together, shed a few tears, and give yourself a pep talk. 

“I’ll call the nurse,” Alexia agreed, reaching for the button. You stopped her though, grabbing her hand and attempting to throw her a convincing smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. 

“It’ll be faster if you just go ask. Please, Ale.” You told her, watching as she looked between you and the door, clearly feeling unsure about leaving you. You had requested it, though, so she kissed your forehead, ignoring the fact that it was rather sweaty, and headed off in search of a nurse. 

As the door shut behind her, you covered your face with your hand, letting a few choked sobs out in your wife’s absence. It was absurd, to have her leave so you could cry, but you weren’t quite sure you were capable of making rational decisions currently. You figured you had a couple minutes to calm down, knowing you could blame your tearstained face on a contraction when Alexia came back. 

However, unbeknownst to you, Alexia had found a nurse just outside your room, relayed your request to be checked again, and turned around, rather pleased she hadn’t had to go very far.

“The nurse will be in so- mi amor, no,” Alexia walked back into the room, catching sight of your shaking form, and panicking. “What is it?” she asked, leaning over you and pulling your hand away from your face. “Mi niña, por favor hablame.” Alexia was begging desperately, now.  

You’d been caught, and you’d definitely only made the situation worse by trying to hide your emotional outburst, because Alexia looked like she was about to find every doctor in the hospital and bring them all to you to find out what was wrong and what you needed. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured her, although it wasn’t very effective as you grabbed a fistfull of her sweatshirt and tried to pull her closer. 

“Okay, estoy aqui,” Alexia said soothingly, gesturing for you to scooch over in the bed so she could fit next to you. Once she was settled, you burrowed into her side, taking a few calming breaths. Your wife knew you very well, and had now realized that nothing was wrong with you or the baby, you were just feeling a bit overwhelmed. “You can do this, mi amor, I know you can,” she encouraged, frowning sadly when she felt you shake your head against her. 

“I can’t, it hurts, I can’t do it,” you sobbed, only feeling worse when you felt another contraction beginning. 

“You can. You are the strongest person I know. I am right here, we will do it together, vale? Just squeeze my hand, mi amor, I am right here with you.” Alexia promised, looking up at the monitor to see exactly why you were now tensing up so much. 

You cursed loudly, this one being even more painful than the last, gripping Alexia’s hand painfully tight. Your wife didn’t even wince, she just kissed your temple, and whispered reassurances into your ear. “I know, I know it hurts. I am so proud of you. You are doing so well, so perfect for me.” 

The nurse came in, then, giving you a sympathetic smile. She checked to see how things were progressing, which was rather uncomfortable and invasive, though you were well past caring, focused instead on the way your wife was tracing a calming pattern over your cheek with one of her fingers. 

“Amor, Barça is star-”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be leaving this hospital divorced.” You warned her, knowing she was just joking to distract you. She smiled sweetly at you, seeing her efforts worked, before she caught the nurses eye, and her face fell. You turned towards the nurse as well, seeing a rather concerned look on her face, which was never a good thing. 

“Still no progress,” she frowned. You felt Alexia take a steadying breath next to you, grabbing your hand once again. 

“What does that mean?” She asked. 

“Well, we really should be seeing some more progress at this point, especially as the contractions are worsening. It seems your baby girl is a little reluctant to come out today,” the nurse said, trying to ease the tension in the room. “I’ll grab your doctor. It’s possible we’ll start talking about a c section, as it has already been 12 hours with very little progress made, but that is up to your doctor.” 

With that, she left the room, and you turned to Alexia with a look of horror on your face. This hadn’t been the plan, this had never been the plan. Your wife was quick to sense your distress, pressing her forehead to yours, and pulling your hand to rest on her chest. 

“We are okay. They do these everyday, and you and Mila will be completely safe. I know it is not the plan, but everything is okay, mi amor. I have you, I will not let anything happen to either of you.” She whispered, pressing her lips to yours rather urgently. 

Her words calmed you, however ridiculous that was. Alexia had no control over anything happening to you or the baby, not really. She couldn’t do anything if something went wrong, but her promise to keep both of you safe made you feel better regardless. Alexia had never let you down before, and you didn’t see her doing so in the future. 

Alexia remained calm, a pillar of strength, while you tried to do so as well. Even when the doctor came in and confirmed that c section would be in the baby’s best interest, as well as yours, you stayed calm, holding on to your wife like your life depended on it. 

-------

They were preparing you for the epidural when it happened. The monitor that reflected the baby’s heart rate began to beep loudly, and everyone around you seemed to lose their minds at once. 

Your doctor addressed you and Alexia both when she spoke, her voice firm but reassuring. “We need to go, right now. We don’t have time for the epidural, we will put you under general when we get in there. Unfortunately, Ms. Putellas, you cannot be in the room.” 

Alexia felt like she was being torn in half, but she knew she had to keep it together, at least until you were out of sight. She nodded, acting more confident and calm than she was, leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips. 

“Ale,” you choked out, your voice choked with fear. 

“All okay, mi amor. Bebé will be here before you know it. I love you, so so much cariño. I will see you soon, vale?” 

“Te amo,” you whispered back, pulling her back into as tight of a hug as you could manage, before your bed was being wheeled from the room. 

The doctor hung back a moment, addressing your wife as you were brought down to the operating room. “This is routine, Ms. Putellas. We will take good care of your wife, and your baby. Both of them will be brought back to this room as soon as they are ready, so you can wait here. I will have someone bring you updates.” 

“Thank you,” Alexia mumbled, trying her best to return the doctor’s smile, as if her entire reason for living hadn’t just left the room without her. 

-------

They put you out almost immediately upon arriving at the operating room, putting the mask over your face and having you countdown backwards from 10. Before you hit 8, you were out, the room fading from your vision, the only thought you could manage being a deep, desperate wish for your baby to be okay.

-------

The hospital had strict rules about visitors, something neither you nor Alexia had really minded when choosing where you were going to have the baby. Now, though, as Alexia waited in the hospital room, minutes away from becoming a mom, all she wanted was her own mom. 

Pulling out her phone, she clicked her mother’s contact, the line only ringing once before it was picked up. 

“Do I have a granddaughter yet?” Eli asked excitedly. 

“Mami,” Alexia cried, unable to keep it in any longer. 

“Ale, what is it?” Eli asked urgently, knowing instantly from her daughter’s voice that something was wrong. 

“The baby’s heart rate dropped and they took them both back for a c-section. I can’t go back because they didn’t have time to do the epidural, and they had to put her under,” Alexia sobbed. 

“Oh, mija, everything is going to be alright. They do c sections all the time. Both of them will be just fine.” Eli soothed, shutting her eyes at the pain spiking in her chest at the sound of her daughter’s pained sobs. 

Alexia let her mami calm her down before she hung up with a promise to keep her updated. The next hour and a half passed excruciatingly slowly, though the doctor kept her promise, and Alexia was given frequent updates.

 She was told when the baby was born, and the joy she felt at the news that Mila was completely healthy, completely safe, fully overshadowed any sadness she felt that she didn’t get to see it. After that update, Alexia took to pacing the room, knowing her baby would be on her way to meet her very soon. 

Alexia heard Mila before she saw her, somehow instantly knowing that the soft cry that echoed in the halls was hers. 2 nurses wheeled in the little crib in which Mila was laid, wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, a little pink hat pulled over her head. She was crying, the noise a bit earsplitting, her little limbs kicking out as she tried to convey her dismay. 

Alexia had worried, through the whole pregnancy, that she would have a hard time connecting with the baby because she didn’t carry it. All of those worries flew right out the window, though, the minute she laid her eyes on her baby girl. 

“Hola mi princesa,” Alexia whispered, completely blind to the smiles on the nurses faces, or the fact that they were taking a video for you. Alexia reached down, very carefully taking the infant into her arms. Mila stopped crying right away, letting out a small sigh as her eyes fell shut, and she dozed right off in her Mami’s arms. There were tears in Alexia’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever been this happy in her entire life. Still, though, she thought of you. 

“My wife?” She asked the nurse, tearing her eyes away from her baby for just a moment. 

“She’s doing great. They’re stitching her up now, and she should be out shortly.” 

Alexia thanked the nurse, starting to subconsciously rock on her feet to keep the baby asleep, the nurses once again forgotten, as she took in her baby’s perfect face. “Did you hear that Mila? Your other Mama will be here soon.” 

Your wife kept up a running dialogue, saying more at once than she’d potentially ever said in her life, as she waited for you. She texted her family, telling them the good news, before putting her phone down to focus all of her attention on Mila, who she was very sure was the most perfect person on the planet. Aside from you. 

------

When you awoke, it was to a rather odd sound. Maybe not odd, but mostly unfamiliar. Alexia’s soft voice filled the room, talking so gently and quietly, that you could barely identify it as belonging to her.

“Sí, and she loves you so much, mi princesa. You are so perfect, Milabear, so so perfect. Just like your Mama.” Alexia cooed, and you were close to tears before you even opened your eyes. When you did, you were greeted with the very beautiful sight of your wife, holding your baby, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. Alexia’s face was bright, thrilled, and she was holding Mila close to her body, her shirt long discarded. 

Alexia glanced up at you, as if she had been doing so every couple seconds, her eyes lighting up even more when she saw that you were awake. 

“Mi amor!” She said excitedly, “Mila, mira, es Mama,” she told the infant, holding the baby up a little bit so you could see her. 

“She’s okay?” You croaked out, throat raw from being intubated. 

“She’s the most perfect baby on earth. Do you want to hold her?” Alexia beamed, moving closer and holding Mila out towards you. She could see the brief panic in your eyes, not sure if you were allowed to hold the baby at the moment, if she’d want to be held by you, as she looked so comfortable in Ale’s arms. “It’s okay, you can hold her, the doctor told me.” Alexia assured you. “Here, amor,” she gently pulled the loose gown away from your body, exposing your chest, before carefully laying Mila down on top of you. Mila’s cheek was pressed to your collarbone, and you could feel her soft exhales on your skin. 

“Hi, my baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips to her forehead as lightly as you could. “Oh, you are so beautiful.” 

You heard a sniff from next to you, and turned to see Alexia watching with tears streaming down her face. This, in turn, made you cry, until Alexia was leaning over you, forehead pressed to yours, Mila perched perfectly in between the two of you. 

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you. She’s so perfect, and you kept her so safe and healthy. She’s so perfect because she’s yours, mi niña, and I love you.” She whispered, pressing repeated kisses onto your lips. 

“Ale,” you whispered back, guiding her face away so you could wipe a few tears off her face. “She’s perfect because she’s yours, Ale. And because you took such good care of me.” 

 Alexia simply shook her head, resting a hand on Mila’s back, gazing at you so lovingly, it almost made you cry again. “You did it, and I am so proud of you.” She told you. 

It was your turn to shake your head, pulling her closer until you could kiss her, this time. When you broke apart, you looked down at Mila, sleeping peacefully on your chest. She was Alexia’s technically, even though you carried her, and it was so clear to you. You could see Alexia everywhere in her tiny little face. Most of all, you felt it in how much you loved her. “She is the most beautiful girl in the world, like her Mami,” you said, echoing Alexia’s words from earlier. You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to stop looking at Mila. And when you did, it would be to look at Alexia looking at Mila, wearing the same look of pure adoration that you were sure was on your face, too. 

In that moment, everything was perfect. Mila was perfect, and Alexia was perfect, and you had an unknown amount of stitches in your abdomen, and you couldn’t quite move your legs yet, but you were perfect too. The three of you, together? You’d always be perfect. 

-------

#alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader

[evansbby]

⭒✮▹𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: older husband!Ari Levinson x naive wife!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, pregnancy!kink, breeding!kink, housewife!kink, lactation!kink, size difference,  age gap, innocence!kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari finally comes home to his very pregnant wife.

𝐀/𝐍: I’m just surprised I didn’t write this sooner tbh. Enjoy!

“Honey, I’m home!”

Your husband’s booming voice echoes around the house, sending thrills up and down your spine. You feel a huge smile plaster itself on your face – despite the fact that you’ve been married to him for almost a year now, you still feel giddy like a little girl every time you hear him come home. You carefully set down the casserole that has just finished cooking, impatiently shaking your oven mitts off before making a beeline to the front door and launching yourself at your big, beefy husband.

“Ari!” You hug him hard, pressing your nose into his hard chest that smells so deliciously like him. Like fresh soap and his manly musk with a hint of salty seawater. Just him. And you can’t help but breath him in, trying your best to climb up his body and wrap your legs around his waist, which is obviously a hard task considering how big your belly has gotten. “Missed you so much,” you mumble against his solid body, loving the feel of his warm arms enveloping you into his embrace. You wish he’d hug you harder, completely crush your body against his like how he used to. Till you can’t breathe but in the best possible way.

But of course, he’s ten times more mindful of you now. Pregnancy and all.

“Baby,” Ari breathes, burying his nose in your hair and nuzzling the top of your head. He presses a bunch of kisses against your hairline, one hand already on your belly (its favourite place to be, as of late), stroking it softly while his other hand meanders down to your ass (his other favourite part of your body). “Mm, I missed you too, sweet girl. Missed your little body against me like this.”

He cups your face, tipping it upwards and lifting you slightly so he can plant a kiss to your lips. He was just so damn tall and big – kissing was a bit of a problem unless he bent down or picked you up. You didn’t mind, though. You loved how much bigger he was than you, how strong and beefy and muscular he looked.

And Ari’s genes were strong enough that he’d passed them down to his unborn children too. You were about eight months along with Ari’s twins in your belly. Both boys. Both bigger than average according to your last scan. And both extremely active and strong just like their daddy – you knew because of all the somersaults and kicks they were subjecting you to day after day. But it was worth it. Ari said that you were the always the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, but pregnancy just made you glow differently. And he’d get that fire in his eyes every time he looked at your belly growing his babies, and it made you feel so powerful, so sexy, so wonderful.

You’d only been married to Ari for a month before you’d found out you were pregnant. You’d met him less than a year ago, this business tycoon who’d swept you off your innocent feet. He was handsome, charming and respectful, and he’d proposed to you after only a few weeks. You’d said yes, of course. And he’d made it clear that he wanted a big family, a cute little housewife (you) who took care of him and his children. You were all too happy to oblige, because you wanted all those things too.

“How are my boys?” Ari whispers, cupping your belly with his huge palm. God, he was just so big – built strong like a wrestler yet also lithe and athletic. Not to mention so goddamned handsome! You couldn’t believe your luck. Some of your friends had told you that you were too young for a man like Ari. You were only fresh out of college and he was almost double your age and the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the country. That didn’t matter to you, though. You liked being his little baby, having him dote over you and spoil you (which he had done since the day he met you, and continued to do till this day).

And so what if he babied you all the time and made all your decisions for you? You liked giving up the control, and Ari was just so smart and level-headed, it just made sense to allow him to take over every aspect of your life.

“Your boys have been extra rowdy today.” You giggle as your husband continues to press kisses all over your face and neck, his long hair tickling you as he does so. “They keep kicking me like they want to come out already. How am I supposed to tell them they’re not due for another month?”

Ari smirks, easily picking you up with one arm like you’re a little baby yourself. His other hand is still splayed over your swollen stomach. He’d grown addicted to cupping your belly ever since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was a problem in the early days, when none of your friends and family knew yet your husband kept stroking your belly in front of them, a cocky look on his handsome face that all but gave everything away.

“I can’t wait till they come, but I also want to keep you pregnant just a little bit longer.” Ari murmurs, carrying you into the living room. He gives your ass a loud slap, the action making you yelp and clutch his muscular bicep as he grins. “You’re so sexy like this, baby. Have I ever told you that?”

“Only about a gazillion times,” you roll your eyes, but this earns you another hard slap on the ass and a warning look from your husband. You squeal, “Ari! That hurt!”

“You know not to roll your eyes at me, honey. I may have married you and knocked you up but you’re still my little baby.” Ari pats your bum and gives it a soft squeeze before kissing your cheek to make you smile. “And I’ve told you to call me daddy, princess.”

“Oh yeah, sorry daddy!”

“That’s okay, baby.”

You’d called Ari “daddy” during sex ever since he took your virginity on your first date almost a year ago. It just fit him; he took care of you so good and he was just so big and strong and dominant. Ari was really into it, always coaxing you to call him daddy – even outside the bedroom. And he’d always look so extremely smug when you’d inevitably slip and accidentally call him daddy in front of your friends and family.

But especially now that the two of you were married and lived in Ari’s big suburban mansion, he just went crazy every time he’d come home to you in your checkered apron, pregnant with his babies and calling him daddy. He’d told you once that it was his idea of heaven on Earth, and you were the one who’d given it to him.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now, baby.” Ari tells you as he takes a seat on his armchair and sets you on his lap. You’re still dwarfed by his huge size even when he’s sitting down with you on top of him, holding you securely on his knee like you’re his little baby. His gaze grows dark as he watches your breasts bounce slightly as he sits down, pink tongue peeking out to lick his lips hungrily. “I couldn’t concentrate at work, all I could think about was my baby wife, round with my children and taking care of my house in your cute little dress.”

You glance down at your dress, it’s one of many that Ari had bought for you. He had said that baby wives only ever wore dresses around the house so it was easier for their daddies to fuck them. You had absolutely no problem with that, seeing as you loved wearing the cute dresses he bought for you, and you also loved it whenever he’d slip his hand up the cotton material, or bent you over a random piece of furniture around the house and fucked the living daylights out of you.

Ari was a loving and doting husband, but sometimes he would get extremely rugged and rough with you. He’d tell you that you were his wife and it was your duty to bend over for him whenever he pleased. Sometimes, he’d watch you with lust-filled eyes while you did the housework around the house. And all he had to do was snap his fingers and you’d come running over to him.

He’d either push you down to your knees and make you suck him off till he was satisfied, or he’d bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you fast and hard, calling you his cute little baby housewife, telling you how all your holes belonged to him only, because he was your husband and he owned you. And you’d whimper and mewl and wail and cry while he had his way with you, till he’d fill you up with his cum and then pull you upright, straighten your dress, slap your ass and send you back to your housework.

No wonder he knocked you up so quickly.

“Honey? You still here?” Ari bounces you on his lap and you blink before smiling up at him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Why would you need to think, baby? Daddy does all the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.” Ari bounces you on his lap again, making you giggle while his eyes once more zero in on your breasts. They’re so much bigger now that you’re pregnant, and Ari has been paying more attention to them than usual. In fact, your pregnant body in general has him incensed and feral. He’s always grabbing at you and pawing at you, squeezing and groping and stroking your every curve like he can’t get enough.

He reaches past you to grab the cold bottle of beer which you’d already set out for him on the coffee table. You watch him as he takes a deep swig, admiring how handsome he is. He’s got a defined jawline covered with his thick beard that makes him look more manly and virile than ever. A gorgeous sloped nose with a cute bump on it that you love to kiss, and high cheekbones smattered with freckles. He sports a golden tan almost all year round, as well as a wonderfully beefy, sun-kissed body that you can’t get enough of.

Even now, you slip your hand up and down his hard stomach, feeling his hairy, toned abs through his cotton shirt that’s stretched taught over them. God, he really was the hottest man alive. All the women that worked for him were crazy about him, including his secretary. But Ari had told you not to worry, that you were the love of his life and he’d waited forty years to find you, and he’d wait forty more to find you again.

“Dinner’s all ready for you.” You say, pressing a kiss to his cheek because he looks so deliciously handsome and you can’t help it. “I made all your favourites, daddy. I think I’m getting better at cooking now.”

You’d struggled with cooking at the beginning of your marriage. You knew Ari expected you to be a good little housewife, but cooking was never your strongest suit. Ari hadn’t minded though, always finding it adorable when you’d sheepishly serve him burnt food that was borderline inedible. And then he’d order a takeaway and you’d both eat in front of the TV, and he’d lick the pizza sauce off the corner of your mouth before pulling you into his lap to make out.

But you’d wanted to be a good housewife for him, after all, Ari worked so hard to provide for you and he bought you whatever you wanted. He didn’t expect you to slave away in the kitchen, of course, but you figured he deserved a good homecooked meal once in a while. And so, you sifted through various cookbooks and online recipes and YouTube videos until you’d finally been able to cook something half decent. And Ari had been so proud of you when you’d served him a roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, and making you husband proud was all you really wanted to do.

Back in the present, Ari playfully chucks you under your chin, “You’re an amazing cook, sweetheart. I can’t wait to eat dinner. But I won’t lie, baby, right now I’m hungry for something else.”

His eyes go down to your chest again, and you smile demurely as thrills shoot down to your core. Ari’s big hands cup your breasts, squeezing them lewdly before tweaking your hard nipples through the thin material of your dress. You never really wore bras inside the house, and Ari was not one to complain about that. He grins wickedly when two wet spots appear on the fabric covering your nipples.

You’d started lactating recently, and Ari had been nothing short of thrilled about that. “Baby wives feed their daddies their mommy milk,” he’d told you, and of course, he was always right. You were scared at first, having him drink from you. But he’d been so ravenous, so hungry for your milk and the intimacy that came with doing something like that. How could you possibly say no?

Now, Ari fed from you all the time. It was almost a daily occurrence which almost always ended in mind-blowing sex.

Ari holds you close to him as he kisses down your neck, his hands slipping up your arms to push the straps of your dress down. Your breasts are painful and heavy as he frees them from the dress, your nipples already hard as glass but you still hiss as the cool air hits them, making them even more erect, if that was possible.

“Poor baby,” Ari coos, tweaking your nipple casually while you squirm in his arms, whimpering like a baby who needs to be tended to. That only incenses Ari more, and he gives your erect nipple a couple of flicks, making you gasp as he laughs wickedly. “Look at your sexy tits, all sore and heavy. They must really hurt, huh baby?”

You pout and nod, grabbing his forearm desperately, “Y-Yeah, they do. Daddy, plea–”

“My poor baby,” Ari continues, squeezing and groping to his heart’s content as droplets of your milk begin to leak. Your husband licks his lips, spreading the liquid all over your sore breasts, making you hornier than ever but he only smirks. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for daddy to come home and breastfeed from you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You whimper, jutting your chest out till your heavy breasts are almost smothering his face. And all he does is laugh, giving your nipple another hard pinch while you feel the tears of frustration well in your eyes. He reduced you to tears so easily, but it was only because you craved him so badly and didn’t like it when things didn’t go your way. He often teased you about this, calling you a needy, spoiled baby who lacked any type of patience.

Ari gives your nipple a light flick with is tongue, his blue eyes shining wickedly as your breath hitches. But then he lets out a feral growl, completely enveloping your nipple between his lips and sucking down hard. You whimper again, grabbing his hair and holding his head close to your breast as he begins to drink your milk, groaning, biting and licking at your nipple like a starved man.

“God, you have such sexy tits, baby.” He mumbles against your breasts, burying his face into them as he continues to suckle. He grabs your other tit and gives it a rough squeeze, kneading the soft flesh with his expert fingers. “And your mommy milk tastes so good.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You manage to get out through all the different sensations you’re feeling. He’s still bouncing you up and down on his lap, his hard dick poking against your butt like a steel rod through his pants. Plus, his mouth working against your nipple is making you see stars, and you feel pleasure mixed with the relief from him draining the milk from your breast.

“Good girl with good manners,” Ari grunts approvingly, his voice slightly muffled as he lewdly takes your whole breast into his mouth (as much of it that fits) giving it a hearty suck while rocking you against him as he dry-humps his dick up into your clothed core. “Just like how daddy trained you to be. Fuck, baby. I bet none of my friends’ wives are as obedient and cute as you, huh?”

“N-No!” you agree with a yelp when he gives your ass a firm slap before grabbing a handful of your ass-cheek from under your dress and giving it a lewd jiggle. “D-Daddy, need you so bad!” You try to grab his hard dick out from the waistband of his pants but he easily slaps your hands away, making you pout and whine as he continues to suck your breasts.

“Let daddy have his meal first.” Ari scolds, slapping your butt again, harder this time, before focusing his attention to your other breast. He suckles you sweetly at first, before growing greedy once your milk starts flowing into his mouth. Incensed, he moans against your breast, grabbing your hips and repositioning you on top of him. He bounces you up and down straight on top of his crotch while he feeds from you, and you moan wantonly as your body begins to work itself up.

“B-But daddy, I waited all – ah! – I waited all day for you!” You pout, trying to grind down against your husband but he holds you in place, always wanting to control your pleasure and never letting you seek it out by yourself unless you had his permission.

Ari releases your nipple with a pop before grinning wolfishly down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as his hand splays itself on your belly once more. “Well, you were a good, patient baby today, weren’t you?”

“I was, I was!” He slips his hand down under your dress, quickly settling it between your legs while your breath hitches and eyes cloud over with lust and want. And all it takes is for his pointer finger to press down on your swollen, panty-covered clit and you’re cumming. You squeak and clutch on to his muscular forearms as you orgasm, your other hand going down to hold his hand in place between your legs as you hump and ride against it. Your panties are completely soaked through and your entire body is buzzing with sensitivity as you pant his name.

Ari looks extremely smug as he watches you orgasm in his lap, leaving a sizable pool of your wetness on his clothed leg. Casually, he tweaks your nipple, his blue eyes trained on your face as you gasp in response, your body twitching in his arms.

“You’re so sensitive now, baby. I bet I could make you cum without even touching you.” Ari says, looking proud and smug at the same time.

“S-Sorry,” you shoot him a sheepish look once you’ve come down from your high, “can’t help it sometimes, daddy. Specially since I can’t ever touch myself when you’re not here.”

That was one of Ari’s firm rules that you had to follow. At the beginning of your marriage, Ari made it clear that baby wives like you had to follow all the rules that your husband set. That included not speaking to other men without his permission, always doing what he said, always telling him where you were, and of course, never touching yourself without his permission – certainly never when you were alone in the house.

“Dumb babies like you don’t know how to touch yourself.” Ari answers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slips his hand out from between your legs, licking his fingers lewdly. “That’s why you need daddy to tend to you all the time. Now tell me, baby, how would you like to be fucked tonight?”

In next to no time at all, your big, beefy husband has you on all fours on your king-sized bed upstairs. A feral energy had overtaken him when you’d shyly voiced your desires to be fucked as hard as possible. Pregnancy made you so horny and feral for him, and in the early days he only ever allowed you on top, because he was so much bigger than you and so scared of hurting you. But soon, he’d learned to be rough in a way that had you both feeling satisfied without ever really causing you any harm.

And so, Ari had wasted no time in carrying you up the stairs, laying you down on the bed and slapping your ass as you scrambled to get on your hands and knees for him. And he’d slapped your ass once, twice, three times, and you knew he was mesmerised by how it jiggled.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” Ari murmurs, spanking you again like he can’t get enough. “Kept thinking of you like this while I was at work, bent over like a little whore in front of me.”

“Please put it in, Ari!”

“Patience, sweetheart.” He chuckles, running a hand up your spine and sending shivers all throughout your body. He presses his dick against your naked backside, and he feels so hot and pulsating. He’d torn your dress off the moment he’d entered the bedroom, and his own clothes had quickly followed suit. And now you were at the mercy of one big, horny, muscular, beefy man. A caveman, by the looks of how feral he was getting behind you. It’s like seeing your pregnant, naked body just flipped a switch in him, and his own patience was riding thin along with yours as he continues to rut against you.

With one quick thrust, Ari drives his huge dick inside you. You cry out in pain because he’s so big, and you’ll never get used to just how big he is. He’s more than twice the size of you and so incredibly well hung, and all you can do is brace yourself and take it, your whole body jerking forward from the force of his thrust. You’d have gone face first into the mattress had he not anticipated that and grabbed on to your hips tightly.

“Oh, fuck, baby, such a tight fucking hole you got. Daddy barely fits inside.” Ari’s fingers are clutching your hips so tightly, you know it’ll leave a bruise. And he’s rough from the get go, although you know he’s holding back because you’re pregnant. “God, fuck, sweetheart. You got such a good and tight fuckin’ snatch, so perfect for my dick, fuck!”

“H-Harder, daddy!” You cry, rutting back against him as your breasts bounce up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. But your request earns you a swift smack to your bum.

“Take it how daddy gives it to you, baby.” Ari sneers, the alpha male inside of him taking complete control as his hips increase their pace. It feels like he’s ripping your insides with his hard dick but you feel so goddamn full and so good that you don’t even care, even as he continuously rains slap after slap down on your ass. “God, fuck, such a good little baby wife. Obedient as shit, aren’t you? Daddy’s little baby, gonna give me a bunch of babies, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, gonna have your babies, daddy!” You agree, sounding delirious and very much like an airhead who’s only capable of repeating what her daddy is saying to her but he’s reduced you to this state through his sheer hard fucking and you don’t even care. You want it harder, want him slamming into you till you can’t catch your breath and you pass out. But you know he wouldn’t, you can tell by how he’s got one arm now wrapped protectively around your belly, as if he needs to keep it there to remind himself not to lose control like how he often does during sex.

You remember a couple of times when Ari had gone completely feral, fucking you like you were an animal. Relentless and unforgiving, leaving you with bruises and bumps as he’d had his way with you again and again. But the dark side of you had enjoyed being a cumdump for him, despite the fact that you’d cried from the pain and overwhelming pleasure. And Ari had taken you into his arms afterwards, telling you how sorry he was, how he’d be careful with you in the future, how he got too riled up and how he couldn’t help but take you roughly when he saw how sweet and innocent you looked. And then he’d always be so sweet with his aftercare, and run you a bath and dote on you and hug you till you fell asleep in his arms, smelling like rose scented bubble bath.

“Want me to knock you up again, sweetheart?” Ari asks you back in the present, fucking you so hard you’re seeing stars. His fat dick is hitting all the right spots inside you, making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting into you, hips going into jackhammer mode. “Because I will knock you up again, baby. Soon as you give me my boys, I’ll have you on your back and filled to the brim with my fucking cum so you get knocked up again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? Wouldn’t you? Fuck!”

“YES, YES, YES!” You scream at the top of your lungs, the pressure building up inside you till that invisible coil snaps and you cum so hard, you’re seeing stars. You collapse underneath Ari, and he has to hold you up as he continues to fuck you. But him describing how he’s going to knock you up again was enough for you to squirt all over his dick, your slippery walls squeezing his hard, fat cock that doesn’t stop its relentless assault inside you.

“Fuck yeah, baby, squeeze my fuckin’ dick!” Ari groans, using your limp body as a literal hole for his dick as he grabs your hips and makes you shake your ass on his dick, “Fuck yeah, baby couldn’t help but cum from the thought of getting knocked up by daddy, huh? Well, you gotta give me another one, honey. One orgasm isn’t enough for my baby girl.”

He pulls you up to your knees so your back is against his chest. And your body is completely limp and void of energy since orgasming had taken everything out of you, and you’re not even sure you can cum again like how he wants you to. But your beefy husband holds you up against him nevertheless, one big hand wrapping around your throat while the other cups your heavy breast and squeezes, and this whole time his hips don’t stop moving inside you. His fat dick driving in and out of you at different, varied paces. Slow so you can feel every ridge and vein, and then fast till his hips are a blur and you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You best fucking believe I’m always going to keep you pregnant from now on.” Ari growls in your ear, squeezing your tits together as he paws at you like a feral caveman, his fingers pressing against your throat and cutting off your air supply just enough for your vision to blur and it all feels so deliciously good and you’re long past the point of even being coherent as you wail and scream for him.

You can feel him losing himself, getting rougher and rougher. You know your husband too well, you know he’s turning himself on more and more at the idea of impregnating you again. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands squeeze your breasts so hard it hurts, and you feel your milk dribble down your nipples.

Ari sees it too, and you swear you can feel his dick get even harder inside you. In a nanosecond, he’s manhandled you into a different position. Now, he’s sitting on the bed with you on top of him, and he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick. And oh my fucking God, it’s so much deeper this way! You can feel your puffy clit grind against his trimmed pubic hairs as he does all the work, his muscular arms wrapping around you, not caring at all that your pregnant belly is in the way as he continues to fuck up into you.

“Can’t let your mommy milk go to waste, can we?” Ari grins, grabbing your tit and latching his mouth on it immediately, sucking down so hard that you see stars. He lets go with a pop, “Guess I didn’t get all of it, huh, baby?”

You hold his head in place, carding your fingers through his brown waves as he continues to drink your milk like a ravenous beast, like he can’t get enough of it. Switching from one nipple to the other, giving both your breasts equal attention as he drains the milk from them.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re breastfeeding daddy, baby.” Ari tells you, his voice muffled as he keeps his face buried in your breasts. And all the while he’s bouncing you up and down on his dick, and you can feel your second orgasm start to build up – and he hasn’t even cum once yet! You wonder how he remains so calm, so casual enough to have a conversation with you during sex. Meanwhile you’re a dishevelled mess on top of him, head lolling to the side as you’ve already gone dumb from all his ministrations.

“God, fuck, gonna keep you pregnant at all times now, sweetheart.” Ari declares, getting feral again as his hand splays out on your belly. “I want at least five more kids, baby. You gonna give daddy five more babies?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I will!”

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. A good fucking baby wife. I’m so glad I found you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you, pulling you by the hair till you’re flush against him, his hips fucking up into you at a blurring pace that makes you feel like he’ll rip you in half any second now.

“And all the other guys will be so fucking jealous that they don’t have a cute little knocked up baby wife who does whatever they ask. Fuck! Tell me you’re my cute little baby wife!” He pinches your nipple harshly before going back to your belly, rubbing it with his huge hand as he clutches you so close on top of him.

“ ‘m your cute little b-baby wife!” You moan, finally finding the energy to desperately ride him, up and down and backwards and forwards, grinding against the thick steel rod that is his dick as it jams up your poor, abused fuckhole.

“Damn right you are. And I’m your daddy who knocked you the fuck up. And I’ll do it again and again, because you’re my fucking property and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you! You got that? Fuck!”

“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah, daddy, you own me! Wanna have more of your babies! Want you to keep me pregnant all the time!” You blabber incoherently.

“And you’re gonna obey me, and be a good little mommy to all our children, aren’t you?” He smacks your ass hard, once, twice, three times till your ass is sure to be raw and all the while you nod and agree with him, “A good little mommy who does what she’s told to do, and spreads her legs every time daddy wants to knock her up again, you got that?”

“Yes!”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can’t wait to come home to you taking care of our little ones. Five of ‘em, with another one on the way. Fuck, can’t fuckin’ wait for that.” Ari grunts, his thrusts growing deeper and hitting your spot so deliciously and making you mewl, as well as his words and promises of keeping you pregnant which have you turned on beyond belief.

The pressure in your lower belly builds up higher and higher, more intense till you almost can’t stand it. And it feels so deliciously good, your pleasure mounting higher and higher as Ari continues to fuck you throw it all, holding you close and coaxing you, telling you to cum again for daddy, giving you permission to let go and cover his fat dick in your cream. And you obey, and you cum so hard, marvelling at how much of it squirts out of you.

Like a broken faucet, squirt after squirt of your cum covers his cock, and you sob and clutch at Ari’s hairy chest, burying your face in his hard chest as you cum so hard you almost faint. “Oh daddy, daddy, daddy!” you whimper like a broken record, like a baby who’s collapsed and needs to be held by her big, strong daddy.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, stroking your hair like you’re his good little girl and the pride in his voice makes you sag with relief and euphoria, and his thrusts grow sloppy as he continues to ride you through your orgasm. His fat balls slapping against your pussy, and you know his load will be big because he’s held off so long.

“Fuck, baby.” Ari lets out a guttural groan before he cums, emptying himself inside of you as spurt after spurt of his hot cum sears you from the inside out. Brands you as his as your greedy pussy squelches and swallows his seed like it’s your job. And Ari looks so proud, holding you so close to him till it hurts, like he doesn’t want a single drop of his cum wasted as he fills you up like you’re his personal cumdump. “God-fucking-dammit, your greedy little snatch is squeezing me so good, baby. Best fuckin’ pussy I ever had, taking all my daddy cum like a good little girl. Fuck, take it, take all of it!”

And you do, taking every drop of his thick ropes of cum till you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his heavy load as you fall down, completely spent and breathing hard, on your back on the bed.

You’re completely sapped of all energy, and again you marvel at how Ari seems perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t just emptied the world’s biggest load inside of you after a long session of unbridled, hot, rough sex. But your husband seems more interested in your body in its post orgasmic glow, rubbing you all over as you rest from the fucking you’ve just received, marvelling at his cum as it drips out of your pussy.

“Looks like your baby pussy couldn’t keep it all in, honey.” Ari swipes a finger up your slit and it comes up covered in his cum. Your mouth drops open in the shape of an o, which works out in your husband’s favour as he feeds you the thick cum. Globs of it, again and again, swiping up from your pussy before he brings his finger to your lips and allows you to suckle it off him. And it’s all you can do in your weakened, post-fucked state, suckle his fingers like a baby as your daddy feeds you his cum.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You murmur weakly, not forgetting your manners as Ari smiles down at you smugly. Finally tearing his gaze away from your body, he lies down next to you and gathers you into his arms for a cuddle. Kissing the top of your head and all over your face as he holds you close to him, till you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own.

“You’re welcome, baby. I love you so much.” Ari answers, looking like the happiest man in the world. And it’s such a powerful feeling, knowing it’s you who has made him feel this way.

“Love you too, daddy.” You say tiredly, cuddling close and burying your face into his hairy chest as you breathe in his intoxicating post-sex musk. “Can’t wait to give you more babies. Can’t wait for our boys to come. I’ll be the best mommy to your babies, I promise.”

Ari chuckles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he gazes at you with eyes filled with adoration. His hand goes down to cup your belly, and he squeezes you so close to him, you feel you might suffocate. But in the best way.

“I know you will, baby. I know you’ll take care of my children, but right now I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

He runs you a strawberry scented bubble bath, carrying you to the bathroom and getting into the tub with you. Gently scrubbing you clean and massaging your sore muscles and sensitive skin while you lie on top of him in the bath, content and barely conscious from the incredible session of fucking you’ve just received. Smiling faintly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, promising you the world and more, his words painting the perfect life which lays in store for you in the future, as well as the perfect life you’re currently living now – all because of him.

THE END! This is my ultimate fantasy and i have no clue why i never wrote it before now! pLEASE PELASE let me know what you think! thank you very very much! love you all!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #steve rogers x reader

[chans-room]

Side Effects of Affection

Pairing: Mingi x plus sized female reader (explicitly stated)

Genre: one shot, smut, fluff, established relationship

Rating: Mature/18+ — minors DNI

Warnings: reader is described as being curvy/plus sized!! — established relationship, pet names, discussions of doctors/gynocologists not listening to you (briefly), potential side effects of hormonal birth control (i ripped these from the one I used to be on) Explicit sexual content: manhandling, praise, body worship if you squint, oral (f. receiving), dumbification also if you squint, fingering, face sitting, masturbation (male), multiple orgasms, lighthearted discussions of a vasectomy lol

Word count: 3.7k

Author Note: I started writing this months ago for @kiestrokes birthday and I am an adhd gremlin so I never finished it. But now it’s Mingi’s birthday so I decided to push myself to finish! So I hope you like it babes 🖤 also if anyone comes at me sideways about the reader being plus sized: you will be blocked ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[Masterlist]

“Babe we have to stop at the pharmacy,” you huffed, slamming the door shut as you slid into the passenger seat. You were already annoyed that you had to go back to the gynecologist despite being there less than a week before, but seeing a new doctor who wasn’t your usual, plus his decision to ignore your request with no real reason why had soured your whole outlook on the day.

“What’s up babe?” Mingi asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he leaned over the center console to cup your face in his hand, “Are you okay? What’d they say?” 

“The usual run around, bullshit doctor stuff,” you shrugged, settling into your seat with a frustrated pout. “He wants me to start another new birth control before he’ll even consider a fucking IUD, despite that being what I asked for. And I’m sure it’s gonna suck just as much as the one I just stopped taking.”

“I mean… I know it sucks but he’s a doctor. I mean, he should like, know things, right? I know it sucks to get periods and have to remember to take them every day but—“ he shrugged but you cut him off with a scoff and a glare. Of course Mingi didn’t get it, how could he? 

“Mingi, baby, I know he’s a doctor but I live in my body. Remembering to take them and bleeding once a month is the least of my problems. Just wait, when we get home I’ll show you.”

—

You threw the foil packet of pills on the coffee table, holding onto the folded sheet that listed the potential side effects. “Alright, get comfortable, this is gonna take some time,” you instructed your boyfriend, watching him settle onto the floor with his back against the couch, pillow in his lap. He stared up at you expectantly, a content smile on his face. “Alright so this,” you said shaking the paper, “is the warning label for my birth control.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Wait so there’s a warning for your birth control?” You simply raised your eyebrow at him, and began to unfold the paper. 

With every crinkly unfurling Mingi made sounds of pain and disbelief, but you ignored him until the sheet had been completely unfolded – the nearly 3 foot long sheet looked almost comical in your hands, “Yes, my love, there is most definitely a warning label for my birth control. We don’t have all night so I’ll give you the highlights.”

“Baby, I had no idea,” he frowned, eyes softening slightly as he sunk into his frame, looking smaller and more boyish than he usually did.

“I know you didn’t, honey, but you should know this just in case I start complaining about these things,” you smiled, heart softening at your boyfriend’s actions. He reached out to you and took your hand, pulling you around the coffee table to stand in front of him before burrowing his face into your soft, plush stomach. 

“Go on babe, I’m listening,” he mumbled.

“Alright so here are the most common, affecting 1 in every 10 people who take these. Yeast infections, mood swings which can include the worsening or onset of depression, it can cause altered sexual desire, nervousness, and dizziness. Can cause you to feel sick, get random abdominal pain, acne, pain in your tits, and enlargement and/or discharge from your tits. They can also cause painful menstruation, irregular bleeding, no or reduced bleeding, and changes in weight.”

You cautioned a look down at your boyfriend, who was currently frowning into your stomach. However, he didn’t say anything nor make eye-contact with you, so you took it as permission to continue. 

“Alright, so now the more uncommon, which could affect up to 1 in 100 people. There could be changes in appetite – oh wow that actually makes sense – elevated blood pressure, abdominal cramps and bloating, which we already have from the periods but whatever. There can also be rashes, skin discoloration which continue even after you stop taking the pills. It can also cause excessive hair growth or hair loss, and – good lord – altered blood fats including increased triglycerides.”

The startled sound from your boyfriend pulled your attention from the paper in your hands down to your boyfriend, who was looking up at you in horror. “Your birth control can do all of that? Why? Why is that allowed?”

You laughed softly, shrugging. “I don’t know, honey. I’ve asked myself that so many times. But don’t worry, as far as I know, I’m fine.”

“But how do we know you’re fine? I don’t think you should take these anymore,” he mumbled sadly. 

His reaction tore at your heart; he was so genuinely distraught at the thought of you getting sick from your birth control. “Baby, I’m okay. Please don’t stress too much about it,” you cooed, scratching his scalp gently. “There’s only a bit more, and they’re the rare ones, okay?” You asked, making him nod sadly. You suppressed a giggle; you couldn’t believe your boyfriend, who so many people were intimidated by, was whining like a puppy because of your birth control. 

“Just keep going, I wanna know what to look out for just in case.”

“Alright, well, there can be severe allergic reactions of various types, it can cause glucose intolerance, eye irritation when wearing contact lenses, fucking jaundice apparently? And painful reddish skin nodules. And the super rare side effects are apparently liver tumors, lupus, inflammation of the optic nerve, blood clots your fucking eyes, large intestine and pancreas inflammation, gallbladder disease and gallstones, and a blood disease called that causes kidney failure. Good christ, I didn’t even know about some of these,” you sighed, shaking your head as you balled up the sheet and threw it on the table next to you.

He looked up at you, tears brimming in his eyes, “Baby… you deal with all that… just to let me nut in you?”

The absolute devastation in his eyes normally would have made you melt, but his blunt phrasing forced you to bite your lip to keep from laughing in his face. How could you when he looked so genuinely distraught? You settled for a sympathetic nod.

He whined again pitifully, frown deepening. You saw an idea pass through him before you felt his hands start massaging your plush thighs, working his way up your leg softly, going under the hem of your dress before stopping when his hands met the fat of your ass. “Let me make it up to you baby, please?”

You really couldn’t help but laugh now; leave it to your boyfriend to try and apologize with sex – an apology for something he really had nothing to do with anyway. But who were you to deny him? You figured it would help get that sad expression off his face and knowing how pussy drunk he got, the whole conversation would likely be forgotten for the time-being.

“Alright,” you sighed dramatically.

You weren’t expecting him to lift you off the floor, his hands not once leaving your skin as he made his way down the hall to your bedroom. Your laughter bounced off the walls as you went, limbs constricting around him in fear of being dropped. 

“Mingi put me down, I can walk there on my own,” you giggled as he kicked open your bedroom door.

He dropped you on the bed, pulling his shirt off before settling between your legs with a shrug, his cheek resting on your exposed thigh, “I mean, yeah you could walk, but why waste the effort when I’m right here. Besides, I know you, and you like to make me chase you. And I don’t have the patience for that today.”

“Don’t have the patience? Are you that excited about getting in my pants, Mingi?” you asked, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

“Of course I am, have you seen you?” he replied, looking almost offended at your question. 

No matter how much time you had spent with Mingi, you were always surprised at how genuine he was. There was never any question of what he wanted, or what he meant. He always told you exactly how he felt; especially when it came to his desire for you.

“Come here, baby,” you pleaded, “I need to kiss you right now.”

He scrambled forward to slot his lips over yours, allowing you to slink your arms around his wide shoulders, knees falling open to accommodate his narrow waist. His weight on you was comforting and warm – it soothed all the parts of your brain that hadn’t stopped firing since the doctor’s office. But it also stoked the flames of desire building in your gut. 

The slow grind of his already hard cock against you had you gripping his hair, pulling him off you to moan, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling of your bedroom made him chuckle.

“Who’s excited now, baby,” he smirked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be smug, you know I want you just as much as you do,” you panted, releasing your grip on his hair and falling backwards into the pillows with your eyes closed.

You felt his rumbling laugh before the pressure of his body disappeared off you, sitting back onto his knees between your spread legs. His fingertips ghosted over you; trailing over your throat, down your chest, and coming to a stop on your hips. “Baby,” he questioned softly, making you hum in response, “Can I take your dress off?”

You nodded, feeling his hands spread out across the tops of your thighs, digging into the dimpled flesh momentarily before flipping up the edge of the skirt, exposing the black, polka dotted mesh you were wearing underneath. “Do you like them?” you asked.

“Of course I do,” he sighed, hands spreading out across your hips, fingertips pushing into your love-handles before hooking under the material. “Are these new?” He asked, snapping the nand against your skin. You hummed again in response, and then felt him tug on the fabric. You lifted your hips slightly before settling back onto the sheets. His hand caught the ditch of your knee, maneuvering your limb to get the soft underwear off you, before repeating the action with the other leg. “You’re so pretty baby, my pretty baby.”

The soft praise made your toes curl, a shuddered breath heaving out of you as your eyes fluttered open to look at him. The faded orange and yellow hair hung in his face, in front of his eyes, but that couldn’t hide his desire. He wasn’t looking at your face, his eyes were roaming over your exposed skin. The absolute need in his gaze gave you goosebumps. 

“Mingi, baby,” you whined, squirming on the sheets in desperation, “Please.”

He didn’t bother responding to you verbally, his hands collecting the fabric of your dress, slowly dragging it up your frame, eyes chasing the hem as he went. “Arms up,” he rasped. You complied, letting him pull the dress off your body and toss it off the side of the bed before his eyes connected with yours. “I am so fucking in love with you,” he groaned, tipping forward, diving into space between your tits. 

The sudden shift and the feeling of his mouth on your skin had you gasping, back arching into him. He slipped one of his arms under your lower back, keeping you arched and on display for him as he worked his mouth across your chest and neck. 

“Mingi, please, I need you,” you whined, rolling your hips into his purposefully, nails dragging across his shoulders. He looked up at you through his eyelashes before detaching from your skin with a wet pop! The sight made heat flush across your skin and a wave of arousal to rocket through you. Mingi’s full, plush lips were cherry red, and his eyes were wild.

“Whatever you need baby,” he grinned, shifting his weight to one side before pulling your leg out from underneath him before repeating the action on the opposite side. Now eyelevel with your cunt. He made eye contact with you for a split second, obviously seeing whatever he needed in your gaze before disappearing into your folds.

The first touch of his tongue shot through you like lightning, zinging up your spine and ripping a breathless gasp out of you. “Fuck, you’re so good to me baby,” you sighed, watching as his eyebrows furrow as he settled himself further into the sheets. The sight of him between your legs was always something that turned your brain into mush. His shoulders wedged between your thighs folded you open almost obscenely, his fingers indented into the plush skin of your thigh, with his other sneaking up your torso to palm at your tits.

His tongue pushing into you made you gasp, eyes fluttering shut as you choked on air. “You’re thinking too hard, just relax,” he instructed, punctuating his sentence with a small nip to your thigh before diving back into your folds.

“Does it count if I’m only thinking about you?” you moaned, trying to relax into the sensations and pleasure Mingi was giving you.

“Yes,” he mumbled, remaining buried between your legs. “Stop thinking.”

You nodded, tangling your fingers into his shaggy hair. You weren’t sure if you could ever stop thinking about Mingi. He was on your mind 24/7. You wondered if he was safe and happy whenever he was away from you, and you were consumed with adoration for him when he was near you. 

But Mingi proved you wrong when his skilled tongue started strumming against your clit. You could no longer create a coherent thought – all that existed was him, his mouth, and his hands on you. 

“Shit, fuck, Mingi,” you keened breathlessly. The hum vibrated through your bones, making your eyes roll back.

“That’s right, my love, say my name,” he all but growled.

“Mingi,” you choked, feeling the pad of one of his fingers brush against your clit. Your hips hitched off the bed trying to chase the sensation. “Mingi, please!”

“So sensitive, baby. My pretty baby,” he cooed, making you whine. “I know, I’m being mean, I’m sorry. Lemme make it up to you.”

You weren’t sure what he meant until you felt one of his long, knobby fingers breach your walls, a deep groan leaving both of you in sync. You knew you were both beyond words at that point – your brain had been rendered useless by the man between your legs, and he was too focused, too fascinated by the view to make sense. 

He went slow, working the digit in deep and intentionally, finding the spongy bump on her inner walls – chuckling breathlessly when your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand where it was. He simply bullied his shoulder between your knees, pushing them open and pinning one down to the bed. 

You weren’t sure what to expect next, but the simultaneous sensation of his lips wrapping around your clit and another finger sinking into you left you reeling. Your body was buzzing and you felt as if you were floating, desire and arousal firing through your nerves rapidly. You couldn’t formulate the words to warn him you were close, too focused on what he was doing, and before you knew it you were cumming with a silent scream. Your whole body locked up as you rode out the ebbing waves of pleasure. 

After a few moments, you deflated against the sheets, releasing the hold you had unintentionally put Mingi in. 

“God you’re so fucking hot,” Mingi whined, dropping his head onto your thigh, pressing a series of wet kisses into the soft skin, tongue darting out to run across a stretch mark. “I need you to sit on my face. Like right now.”

Without warning, he flipped you both so he was laying on his back with you sitting on his chest. Your eyes widened as he smiled innocently up at you, hands already gliding up your back to try and convince you to do what he asked. “Baby, no.” You argued, making him furrow his eyebrows in concern. “You already fucked the bones out of my legs. I’ll give you head but I’m not sure I have the energy to keep myself from suffocating you if I sit on your—“

The truly pained whimper coming from underneath you made you freeze as you looked down, seeing Mingi’s pout and the genuine sadness in his eyes. “That’s not nice. You can’t say mean things about yourself like that. I don’t like it.”

“Honey, I was joking—“ you sighed, but he cut you off again.

“No, it’s not a joke to me. We said no more negative self-talk, remember?” He argued. You sighed, nodding — he was right. You had both agreed there would be no self deprecating jokes, or casual remarks that skewed negative about yourselves or each other after you both discussed your previous bouts of depression and self-loathing. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” you softened, brushing away the faded orange hair that was stuck to his forehead. 

He nodded, humming in acceptance before the corner of his mouth turned up, his hands running up the backs of your thighs again. “I know how you can make it up to me.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he worked his touches up to your ass, where they settled after a firm squeeze, “I mean you’re already here.”

“I thought this was you making it up to me for having to take birth control and all the horrible side effects I’m facing.”

“I mean, can it not be for both of us?”

“I’m not gonna last long,” you warned him.

“Don’t care,” he said bluntly, “You’re fucking hot so I’m probably going to nut in record time anyway.”

You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter – you couldn’t help it. You knew you were probably biased, but you thought Mingi was the most endearing person you had ever met. And despite being absolutely ridiculous – the sentiment of his statement still made you shiver. 

“Do you want me to—” you began to ask but he cut you off with a groan.

“No, no, fuck, don’t even talk about it or I’m gonna cum,” he ground out through gritted teeth before releasing a deep breath. “Alright, come sit on my face, now.”

The demand overrode any rational thought in your brain, causing you to rock forward, sitting on his face and grabbing the headboard.

He immediately went to work, sloppy and desperate. You couldn’t help but grind down into the feeling, chasing the rapidly building release. One of his hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing in the fat and divots as the other stroked his cock. You could feel his hips pitching off the bed every so often; the knowledge that you were the one making him so desperate drove you into a frenzy. 

You couldn’t think of anything other than the pleasure you were feeling. It was quicker than you expected – your orgasm slammed into you like a train. Your vision went white, and your ears rang as you pitched yourself to the side, collapsing next to him. You vaguely registered hearing Mingi cum with a guttural groan of your name.

After a few moments, feeling came back to your limbs and the roar of your blood rushing in your ears subsided, and you opened your eyes to find Mingi hovering over you with a small smile. 

“You okay, my love?” He asked, cupping your cheek. 

The look in his eyes was pure love and adoration, and it made you positively soft for him. He was really criminally adorable. 

If he was anyone else, you were sure he could have been a manipulative bastard – charming, funny, cute, and puppy dog eyes that made you fold instantly, and you knew so many people who would abuse that power. But this was Mingi, your Mingi. He would never intentionally hurt anyone; it simply never would have been a thought in his mind. And you loved him so much it made your bones ache. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know, baby,” Mingi sighed happily, eyes closing with the force of his smile, “And I love you, more than anything. That's why I’ve decided something,” he said, flopping back onto the bed.

“Mmhmm, and what's that honey?” You asked, closing your eyes as you laced your fingers with his at your side. 

“If you want, I’ll get a vasectomy,” he said brightly, making you sit up to stare at him in confusion. “That way, we can have all the sex we want and not have to worry about kids! And you can stop taking birth control, if you want to. Two birds, one stone.”

For a second you were convinced he had actually fucked your brain out as you tried to comprehend his words. You could not believe he was not only suggesting but willing to do something like that for you. “Fuck, Mingi you can’t hit me with some shit like that after what we just did,” you scoffed, willing the tears in your eyes to go away, before diving into his embrace, tucking your nose into the junction of his shoulder. “I still can’t feel my toes, babe, it’s not the time to decide if you’re gonna get a vasectomy.”

“Just think about it,” he shrugged, curling around you, keeping you tucked into him. “But I’d do anything for you. I mean it.”

“I love you too,” you whispered thickly, planting a chaste kiss on his neck.

He responded with a kiss to the top of your head, cradling your head in his hands. He was silent for a moment before asking, “Wait did you really cum so hard your toes went numb?” You giggled softly before nodding. “Nice,” he mumbled to himself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you sighed, pulling back to look at his face with an eye roll and a laugh.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I’m yours. And you’re mine,” he smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

[Masterlist]

I’m just gonna tag some of my moots who I think would enjoy this: @kiestrokes @eureka-its-zico @j-a-nuary @gimmethatagustd @bibbykins @skyys-universe @minisugakoobies @chimivx

#song mingi #song mingi smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi fic #mingi fanfic #mingi fluff #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez #ateez imagines #atz smut #atz mingi #atz x reader #atz #mingi #happy mingi day

[jullbnt]

(Very late) Linktober 2023 – Day 31. Free for all

Of course I was going to draw some very self-indulgent OoT Zelink what did you expect :))

I’m so completely normal about these two!!

Well I still need need to rework day 23 before I can consider my Linktober challenge complete, but I’ve finally done all 31 prompts!! I knew I was likely to be late but not to the point of finishing on November 20th ><

It’s okay though, I’m really happy with what I’ve been able to do! The colorful style I chose with the square format and the borders really took me out of my comfort zone and forced me to be creative, and I feel like I’ve learnt so much doing this. I’m also not used to doing such detailed pieces so being able to do 31 of these in less than two months is really making me more confident in my work!

Thank you all for your amazing reactions to this series of drawings, I am so grateful! This challenge was exhausting but so completely worth it :D

Previous (Day 30. Favorite game)

Linktober 2023 Masterlist

Linktober 2023 Ocarina of Time

#linktober #linktober 2023 #loz #zelda #the legend of zelda #loz fanart #oot #ocarina of time #oot link #oot zelda #hero of time #princess zelda #zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time zelink #it's done ;_;

[onirique-amaranth]

⎮The Doctor's Assistant⎮

⏤ Characters: Dottore⎮reader

⏤ Including: nsfw (-17)

⏤ Warnings → sub/bottom Dottore, top/dom Male reader, fingering, getting caught, implied obsessive behaviour, jealousy, size kink, tongue fucking

⏤ 4.400 words

You were one of the last recruits of the Fatui. You haven't been here for long and unfortunately, you were accepted in for your strength and knowledge about weapons, so you knew nothing about the Fatui itself. When your superior proposed you to work for someone since you were new, you were confused, none of those names that he was giving were familiars.

You said one of the numerous names you remembered, uncaring of the outcome when you pronounced the name 'Dottore', your superior's face lost all his colours. With shaky hands, he wrote down your application before leaving in a hurry, mumbling something about 'living a great life'.

You learned later on that he was the 'Doctor' that famous Harbingers for being a monster and killing anyone that would even just dare breathe next to him. This famous doctor who had no to little regard for human life.

Everyone was already considering you as a dead man, they were sure that you would not be here anymore the following week. He had no reason to keep you alive after all, and his temper was as bad if not worst than the Balladeer, there was no way you would not make a mistake that would cost you your life. The day you left to meet him, everyone bid you goodbye, most did not even try to learn your name, knowing it was over for you.

And like they all thought, you made a mistake. But one thing saved your life, your knowledge about Ruin Guards and history. Theses were the only things that helped you staying alive. It happened the first day, while he was working on one of his experiments, you noticed how he misplaced a piece as he was rebuilding a machine. When you tried to tell him, it was your mistake, the interruption made him lose his temper, as he turned to you suddenly, he took away your left eye. You fell to the floor at the sudden pain, holding your face as you look up with difficulty when he ordered you to talk.

“Now, talk. You dare interrupt me, so finish your sentence at least…

Before I kill you.”

It was your end, you knew it, there was no way you could escape this fate. So with angry eyes, you look up at him, ready to spat on his face.

“My apologies, your highness. You misplaced this.

But since you're so smart, you know it's supposed to be on the left shoulder, right?”

Silence took over the room, the tension sending shivers down your spine, but you refuse to look away. His red eyes almost glowed as he glared at you, the pressure making your legs shake as you knew you had already done it. He looks at his experiment, moving the piece you talked about and suddenly, the machine lit up as it seems like it was the last thing that needed to be changed. When Dottore turned back to you, you closed your eyes, ready to accept your death.

But the pain never came, as you thought he was going to torture you instead of giving you a simple death. A hand was placed onto your cheeks, his thumb stroking your jaw gently.

“Tell me more.”

Your knowledge was the only reason why you were still alive. It took you some months to earn his respect, but finally, after some time you became his assistant. He has never been a nice person to begin with, and even less sympathetic to work with, but you made it work. You asked yourself why he kept you alive, and the answer was simple: you had the brain, and it was a good enough reason for him to keep you around. He was not nice nor bad with you, he was just doing his thing.

He got used to your presence rapidly, as you were around him most of the time; he was always working for hours, slouching over his desk as he spent more time on any fragile part of the new experiment. He could sense you in the background, preparing what he needed without waiting for him to ask for it, you were so used to him and his antics that you could almost predict everything he would say or do.

Dottore tolerated you, you were still only someone useful to him, but you were still treated better than any other subordinates. You were well-behaved, not talking without a valid reason, and would ask for permission before doing anything particular. He would always say to the other Harbingers that you were annoying, but any time someone would suggest to him another assistant and to get rid of you, he would refuse immediately before leaving.

He could admit that his workplace has never been this clean and easy to work in before. And slowly, he started to be nicer, you weren't expecting much from the start, but he grew comfortable enough to sometimes ask you your opinion, and let you have a day off once a week.

It was as if you always knew what he was thinking, before he could ask for someone to drink, it was already placed beside him. He needed something? It was already on the metal table. He wanted a report, it was written on his desk with every annotation he required. A material was missing, you were already out buying it. After some time, he decided to make you move into the room next to his workplace, so you were never too far away.

At first, you never had the time to meet the other Fatui, they all thought you were dead when you did not show up after a week. In reality, the work hours with Dottore were hellish, and you had little to no time to do anything, so your day was just: waking up, going to work, finishing all the tasks of the day, going back to your room and sleep. Your disappearance became a mystery, since Dottore himself was not going out too much, neither of you were seen.

But at one meeting, which Dottore was forced to come to, Pierro's order, he entered the room with you following just behind. To say everyone was shocked was an understatement, the three Harbingers present has, themselves, never saw you once. And your appearance was quite surprising, but not in a bad way. Childe could not help but send a wink your way when you looked at him accidentally, which earned him a glare from La Signora and Scaramouche.

Except for your person that was quite attractive, what surprised them the most was your position, as an assistant, for the Fatui, you were a nobody. But you were here, walking as if you were a high-ranked member. They had never seen someone standing so close to him without dying, the only exception being the other Harbingers… and yourself, now. Quickly, the rumour spread and you became someone respected among most, some other rumours were circulating about how you managed to stay alive, but they were all quickly shut down anonymously. Among the Fatui, you were untouchable, rarely seen outside and if you were, it was along one of the craziest men.

Most of your new subordinates respected you and your life was quite peaceful. But this peace was sometimes disturbed by Dottore, anytime he would have a random excess of rage about a recent failed experiment. If you remember good, it was after the fifth time that he stopped injuring you in the process. It was not like it was calming him down to hurt you anyway, since you got used to the pain, and after some time, you stopped reacting as it became something typical. You would just stay in your spot, unmovingly, waiting for the rage to vanish.

It took you another set of months to meet the rest of the Harbingers since you had no reason to see them in the first place. You had the occasion when Dottore send you to deliver a report to Pierro, surprisingly, he trusted you enough for this. On your way, the other nine Harbingers were getting out of the meeting room. As you bow immediately, hiding your face to not get into trouble, you hear someone stop in front of you. You never raise your head, even as a hand was placed on top of your head. The calm voice of the 11th Harbingers reaches your ears.

“Hm… Isn't that… Dottore's assistant?

My My, what a pleasure to meet you again.

Such a great surprise. Is that my birthday gift?”

As he urged you to stand up, you hesitate, unsure if it was a trap to give you a punishment. Thankfully it was not, as he just wanted to talk to you. Actually, he was the one doing the talking since, after months of working with Dottore, talking was not something you were used to anymore. And as you replied, your raspy voice send a shiver down everyone's spine.

You're taken aback when Childe throws his arm around your shoulders casually, or as casually as he could, since you were taller than him, and it forced him to stand on his tiptoes. La Signora was snickering behind him as the Balladeer was looking at you up and down. Childe suddenly asked you if the next day was your day off, making you suspicious, since he had no reason to know this. Even if it was, you weren't really trusting him. In the end, he still invited you to spend some time with him, which you were forced to accept or else you would get killed. Behind your back, Childe was showing a victorious face to Scaramouche, giving him the occasion to talk to you without Dottore in the way.

The next day, Dottore was working as always, in complete silence, since you weren't here, there was no sound of you rummaging through something behind his back. At first, like any of your day off, he was enjoying the silence, but as minutes and hours passed, he grew tenser as if something was missing. Usually, even if you were free to go, you would at least pass by once, just to make sure everything was all right. But today, he never saw you or heard of you, leaving a strange feeling consuming his mind. He left his workshop in the middle of the night, frustrated to an infinite extent as you never showed up like he expected you to. He even brought your favourite drink, which he threw in the bin as he left, angry.

He heard loud voices in the corridor, familiar annoying ones as he recognized immediately who it was, Childe and Scaramouche. He hated them, actually, he hated everything and everyone, but these two particularly, with how insufferable they were. As he passed by them, Childe greeted him with a big sincere smile, his behaviour took him by surprise, even Scaramouche has a gentler smirk than usual. He stopped dead in his tracks out of shock but turned around suddenly when he heard your name get out of Childe's mouth. The sentence that he pronounced made him grit his teeth.

“See I told you that you were going to have fun today.

Isn't he great? And this face and body~ ”

Everything became clear in his mind, you did not show up because you were out with the Balladeer. Who in their right mind would go out with that thing? Suddenly, he noticed how he was not really liked by his subordinates either and took back his words. But still, why would you see him, it made no sense, you never had the occasion to speak with him or Childe anyway. With a frown, he heads to his room, talking to himself, promising that you will never have a day off again. He would not allow it.

And that's how, the next day, when you entered the room, Dottore was standing in front of you angrily. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and an annoyed look on his face, he did not even start work on his new experiment yet, which was surprising.

“So… The Balladeer, uh?”

Your blood ran cold, how long has it been since the last time he frightened you that much? You try to remember any rules related to having no contact with the other Fatui or Harbingers, but nothing came to your mind. Your hands started to shake, knowing it was over for you, you had made your second mistake. As he took a step forward, hand raised, you close your eyes, waiting for the final blow. But it never came, a hand was placed on your torso as Dottore pushed you, making you fall back on the chair behind you. Your mind spiralling, trying to understand what he was going to do, torture perhaps?

One of his hands found its place on your shoulder as the other was resting on your thigh. Before you could process what was happening, he sat down on you, legs on each side of yours as he looked still quite angry. He grips your jaw tightly as he spat each words with so much venom.

“Whose assistant are you?”

“Your assistant, sir.”

“Then why were you with this fucking brat?”

The silence was loud, your mouth opening and closing uselessly as you didn't know how to respond. Dottore had the urge to slice your throat open, but at the same time, he knew it would be a shame to lose someone like you. The Balladeer was the one who needed to get taught a lesson, as he needed to understand that he should not take what was not his. But for now, he had to make sure you understood your mistake. You have been so perfect until now, he gave you everything, but you still left to go out with someone else. With his twisted mind, he was not able to notice how bad his logic was, as he is just your boss, nothing more, but he could not accept it.

He listens as you apologize, but the confusion was still noticeable in your voice as if you did not know what you did wrong. How could you not understand? It was as if he was going to let someone else enter his workplace as you weren't there, it was inconceivable. He had no rights to do so and neither did you have the rights to be close with any other Harbingers. He did not care about the other subordinates, he could just kill them if they were becoming annoying.

You were lost in your thoughts when he grabbed your jaw again, dipping his fingers into your mouth suddenly, forcing your tongue to loll out. He leans forward, sucking on your tongue as he starts to grind onto you, your body reacting on its own as you get hard. What you did not knew, was that he had no experience, and he was already on the edge. But how could you notice it when he was moving like that on top of you. Each roll of his hips was hypnotic, and you could feel yourself drool at the thought of him sitting on your face. You needed to keep your mind in check before it becomes uncontrollable.

You lick your lips, throat drying up as his movements speed up, hips jerking forward as he grew more and more sensitive. He needed more, but his body was already out of stamina. He feels your grip on his hips tighten as your rut against him, an animalist look in your eyes as you lost control of yourself. After all, you spend the last year following him everywhere he went, without a break, never having enough time to be alone and tend to your urges. So what does happen when finally someone offers themselves to you? You go crazy.

Dottore feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, he felt his body heat up, a powerful warmth coursing through his body as he was captivated by your blissful face. It seemed like you saw Celestia, you looked at him as if he was your god, finally offering you a sweet release. He gasps as you become rougher, his insides clenching around nothing, he felt too sensitive and wanted to take a break. But as he was going to lift himself up a bit, you forced him down by his hips, you grab his hands, moving them to your neck. You lifted your own hips, rutting your crotch against his clothed ass.

He could feel your length, your breath itching as you bite down on his shoulder, drool covering his shirt as your body is quivering. Your eyes were closed as your body falls lax against the chair, your head rolling back as the sweet feeling takes over your senses. The man on top of you was taken aback, was it that good for you to almost pass out? He starts to think about how you could make him feel that good too, and his thoughts send him overboard.

For the first time in his life, Dottore was not seeing you just as a smart assistant, there was something else. As something clicked in his head, the way you would talk to him, when you would take care of his needs, and the way you move. Nothing about you was innocent or sweet, it was screaming intimidating and lustful, but he never noticed until now. His eyes were going from your parted lips to your blissed-out eyes, before going down to look at your pants. He never saw you in this light, as an attractive man that could, if he wanted to, have anyone kneel in front of him. But no. This man was his assistant, staying in his workplace all day, not caring about anything else than his well-being and experiments.

He leaned forward, licking your lips before kissing you, a strange taste now lingering in his mouth, but he could not recognize it. The way your lips were pressing against his, was making him blush crazily, he wanted to make you feel the same way as he was. He took a deep breath, unbuttoning his pants and yours, your dicks sprang out as his mouth waters at the sight. He could not help but feel embarrassed at the length difference, not only his was shorter but also thinner. But he was sure that he was in the norm, so why were you so big?

As he tries his best to wrap his hand around both shafts, his cheeks heat up at the laugh coming from you, and you look amused as his small hand could not do much. It could barely wrap around your cock only, and this guy was trying to hold both at the same time. You let go of his hip, placing your hand on top of his, holding both your length with one hand, as you start to move it up and down slowly. Teasingly, you look at the doctor straight in the eyes, seeing how he was panting, fighting the urge to cum.

His eyes widened as he just realized that he was in the middle of his lab, perched on your lap as your hand was jerking him off. Anybody could enter the room, most Harbingers doing so without knocking, at any moment they could see you. But as he was going to tell you to stop, your thumb started to play with his tip, forcing him to hold onto your shoulders for dear life as he was losing his mind. Your hand was so warm around him, and the way your cocks were rubbing together was driving him crazy. Slowly, you move your face to his neck, licking the side before biting down, hard. The pain sends tingles to his arms and brain.

The doctor was practically choking on his words, lightly thrusting his hips while letting out loud moans, fucking into your hand. Your thumb playing with his tip, gliding slowly as it lit his nerves on fire, pleasure overwhelming. He was sobbing against you, drooling all over your shirt, so embarrassed at the wet noises filling the room as your hand was almost drenched in his precum. He was crumbling slowly, and you used this opportunity to tease him, stopping all movements of your hand as you lean back, removing your hand from his length. He chased after you, he was so close, and he needed your touch. Your kisses on his jaw paired with some bites distracted him for a second, before you play with the tip of his cock one last time, making him cum instantly.

You watch with hungry eyes as he keeps cumming all over you, body shaking as he can't stop, cock twitching uselessly.

Before he could process what was happening, he was laying on his back, the cold metallic table sticking against his damp and hot skin. As you kneel in between his legs, he wraps them around your head tightly as your tongue slid deeper into his ass. He was so sensitive he could cum over and over again, the feeling of being eaten out made his mind go crazy. Your strong hands holding his thighs apart, head squished in the middle as you lap and suck at his hole, your nails digging into his sensitive flesh.

As he grinds against your tongue, head rolled back as he cries out, unable to keep his noises in, he could feel the knot snap against. He spilt all over his stomach, some drops falling onto your face and hair. As you gently lap at the cum oozing out of his tip, the sound of a door opening is covered by his loud whimpers. The two Harbingers freezing at the view in front of them, Childe and Scaramouche were flustered to no end, seeing you in this position as you make Dottore loses his mind. They leave immediately, but the image could not leave their heads. As they stand in the corridor, still processing what they saw, they look at each other, cheeks red and body temperature rising up as they head to their room, hiding the front of their tight pants with their sweaty hands.

You wanted to fuck him so hard, but his blissed-out face as he was almost passed out on the metallic table told you it was enough for today. He was pathetic, but he was still your boss, and so you decide to please him one last time as you watch his cock hardening again. Dottore whined when he heard some wet sounds, he raises his head, legs instinctively closing as he saw you wet your fingers, your eyes meeting. If you could not use your cock, you could at least help him a little, so he would be able to correctly jerk off to the memory later. You brought one finger to his hole, followed immediately by another one, the foreign feeling heightened his sensitivity, each drag of your fingers into his body send him closer to the edge.

He moaned raspily, throat dry after crying and whimpering for so long. He could see his legs quivering as he cries, tears falling freely from his eyes, the stimulation making him discover something new. When your fingers hit a particular spot, you can't help but smirk, the third finger being added quickly as you slammed them against his prostate. He cried, hips grinding down as he forced two fingers into his mouth, silencing himself. You stretch him more, thrusting your fingers in and out. And before you knew it, he was screaming, cumming untouched as he empty himself over your face, mumbling your name as he gives you the most fucked out smile ever.

His fuzzy mind was not able to comprehend whatever was happening around you, but you were able to. And when the door opened, a single person entered the room too lost in their thoughts to notice the scene in front of them. Pantalone froze on the spot as he raised his head, Dottore laying on his work table as you're kneeling in between his legs, face covered in his cum as you lick your lips. He watches as the doctor's head lolls to the side, too out of it to see who he was looking at, a dumb smile spreading across his face. As he was going to turn around to leave the room, thinking you did not notice him, he sees you licking your lips with a satisfied face when you looked at him, straight in the eyes. You give him a big smile before sticking your tongue out, the black-haired male blushing violently as the door slam behind him.

Dottore barely understands that someone saw him like that, embarrassment hardly reaching his brain, as he grabs a tissue to clean your face. He was weak in the knees, his body too tired to move correctly as he stands up, motioning for you to help him. With shaky legs, he falls onto the chair, panting. He tugs your face closer to his by your hair, kissing you softly, moaning as the gentle feeling eases his aching heart.

As you were going to leave the room, still hard but glad you gave your boss a good time, he surprised you by kneeling in front of you. Jerking you off quickly before letting you cum in his awaiting mouth. Immediately, he tucks you back into your underwear as he buttons your pants. He stands up, leaning against the wall for support as he grabs your jaw to kiss you one last time, acting as if he was not blushing like crazy.

Dismissing you for the day, satisfied with what happened, convinced that you were not going to see anyone else. You do as he asks, just taking the time to squeeze his ass before doing so, just to annoy him. You doubt your life was in danger anymore anyway, after what just happened. When you got out, Pantalone was still there, back leaning against the wall as he looks at you up and down. He makes a strange sign before leaving, hips almost swaying as he walks, as you stand there half-confused at what he meant. While somewhere else, Childe and Scaramouche were separately jerking off to what they saw, imagining themselves instead of Dottore. It's true that you were his assistant, but it did not mean that you could not give a helping hand to the other Harbingers too, right?

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

#male reader #sub dottore #dom male reader #top male reader #genshin #sub genshin x dom reader #top reader #male reader insert #genshin impact x male reader #dottore #dottore x reader #seme male reader #x male reader #bottom dottore #genshin x reader #scaramouche #childe #x reader #sub yandere #yandere #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #dottore x reader smut #harbingers

[differenteagletragedy]

Based on what happens when you have feelings for Baxter in Step 4 but turn him down when he confesses his love for yooooou :)

Nights had always been hard for Baxter. They were when he felt most alert, sure, but being alert also meant being aware. And for Baxter, that meant being aware of how alone he was.

But ever since he reconnected with you, nights had become something he looked forward to.

It had been a few months since you and Baxter had run into each other in the days leading up to Jude and Scott's wedding. It had only taken days for him to fall back in love with you, or rather to admit that he'd never actually fallen out of love with you, but you were more hesitant.

"I'm sorry, Baxter, I can't," you told him after he confessed his feelings to you. "Maybe someday, but right now..."

"I see," he'd replied, and he did see. It hurt, of course, but he understood perfectly why you weren't ready to jump into a relationship with him.

But you'd left the door open for a reconciliation. And he wasn't going to miss his chance again.

Things started out slow -- after your late night conversation in the office, he took you back to your apartment and walked you to your door like the gentleman that he was. The next day, you'd invited him to hang out with your friends, something he was so thankful for.

He didn't want to come on too strong, to appear too excited to actually have people in his life, so he waited a few days to ask you out for coffee. He sent you texts sporadically, and when you answered he agonized about how long he should wait to reply.

But as the weeks went on, you spent more and more time together. The natural flirt in him came out more, and he started noticing you being more responsive to it. It was a wonderful feeling.

Soon, you spent more nights together than you did apart. Not full nights -- though he was desperate to have you in his bed, to hold you, to wake up with you in his arms -- but evenings. When you were both done with work, you'd come over to his apartment and he'd cook dinner for you, or he'd come over to yours and take you out. Sometimes after you'd go dancing, sometimes you'd watch a movie.

As time went on, the dances got more and more intimate in tiny little increments. You sat closer together when you watched TV, and paid less attention to plots and more attention to each other. It took longer to say goodnight.

One night, you were over at his place for another homecooked meal. He was by the counter, putting the finishing touches on a dish before he put it in the oven, and you took the opportunity to put on some music, looking back at him just in time to see him smiling.

Baxter slid the pan into the oven, set a timer, and turned to you. With a dramatic flourish, so silly it made you laugh, he bowed and extended his hand to you. When you took it, he pulled you in close. Closer than people who were just friends would dance.

"May I let you in on something?" he asked softly after a few minutes. You pulled back to look at him and saw that his cheeks were pink, but he was still wearing a small smile.

"Of course," you answered.

"I just wanted you to know -- it felt important to let you know -- that while my feelings for you remain the same, I'm not doing all of this because I'm expecting any sort of return," he said.

"What do you mean?"

He paused for a moment, the same smile, almost pained, remaining on his face. You felt him give your hand a squeeze, then he said, "If you were to one day return my feelings, that would be wonderful. But I'm not spending all of this time with you because I want to woo you. This means ... you mean more to me than that. Even if no romance were to ever blossom between us again, these moments with you have meant more to me than I can possibly say."

You took a beat to consider what he said. You took him in, the consummate gentleman in front of you who you'd fallen in love with all those years ago and who managed to work his way back into your heart after breaking it back then. He was being sincere in saying that all of that -- you knew that. And it meant more to you than you ever could have imagined.

"Baxter," you began, moving your hand to toy with the collar of his shirt. He hummed in response, and you said, "What if I want you to though?"

"What if you want me to what?"

"Woo me."

For the first time since he began talking, his smile faltered. His feet stopped moving, so you stopped with him, and slowly, the hand that had been holding yours moved to cup your cheek.

You gave him a small nod, and he closed the distance between you.

Baxter hadn't been lying when he told you that he'd become quite the impressive cook, but that night the dinner he'd prepared for you went to waste. By the time his timer went off, clothes were strewn around the kitchen -- he barely remembered to put on mitts when he pulled the dish out of the oven, shirt off, hair a mess and pants unbuttoned and hanging loosely around his hips. It set on the counter, forgotten, as he led you towards his bedroom, but you only made it as far the couch before your hands found their way back to each other.

He'd had to wait for you to be ready to welcome him back into your heart, but that was fine with him. He was a patient man. And the next morning when he woke up, still pressed against you, feeling your warmth, he was overcome with emotion. For this, he would have waited a lifetime.

#our life beginnings and always #baxter ward #baxter x you #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #baxter ward x you

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

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If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #fc barca #footballer #imagine #barca #gavi x you #footballer imagine

[hitlikehammers]

stupid superpower

rating: teen tags: humor, brotherly ribbing, Dustin has a ✨stupid superpower✨, Dustin continues to have issues with his tone ✨for @slashify at my BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST for the prompt: Character Has Powers (requested to be Dustin)

“Look, see!” Dustin points at the mat he’s laid out on the coffee table in Steve’s living room. “This is why Dart was so easy, it makes so much sense now.”

He turns to them with the biggest grin that’s getting a little less gummy by the week, now, but…he looks so proud, is the thing.

And it is painful. The pride. What it’s for.

The way they’re gonna have to probably dash it.

“I,” Steve squints at the setup, start to finish, empty cans framing the perimeter before he sighs: “I am not seeing anything, man.”

“No,” Dustin’s voice goes pitchy, really, he should have outgrown that by now, s’looking like it’s a permanent trait, yeesh; “look.”

And he points with such…some superiority, such imperiousness, like…okay, so maybe it’s the least painful of the list, when they have to dash all that pride. Kid’s gotta fucking learn some humility, man. Like, sooner rather than later.

“I told you I could communicate with them!” Dustin pulls off his cap and throws it to the couch, triumphant. Steve watches the mat for a few more seconds before he straights up, cocks his hip and crosses his arms.

“You’re telling me,” he says slowly; “that you talk to slugs.”

Because that…that certainly appears to be what the argument has been. They’d kinda thought Dustin has been joking, in previous passing mention. Eddie, at least, definitely thought he was just being an annoying little prick for how many times he asked if either of them felt particularly chiropteran, muttering about traits from interactions, close encounters, bites would obviously count.

Like, it was Dustin, if they took all the crap he said to heart, weighed it seriously, they’d never do anything else.

Like: ever.

“Interspecial gastropodic extracommunicational phenomena,” Dustin rattles off, a little defensive, if Eddie’s gonna be honest; and it wasn’t exactly called for. Steve just asked a question.

Eddie, on the other hand…

“So slugs and snails,” Eddie confirms, droll as fuck by intention, because Eddie is actually very aware of his tone in most situations, thank you very much; “the shell doesn’t deter you.”

“No, I think it’s the whole at least the whole class, maybe the whole phylum,” and he’s so excited, but, he’s also being a fucking know-it-all about it and there is a part of Eddie that doesn’t want to squash Dustin’s enthusiasm but the bigger part of Eddie, but fucking far, knows for a goddamn fact no one could possible squash Dustin’s enthusiasm, or self-confidence, like, Dustin would happily go toe-to-toe with like, Stephen fucking Hawking, and brag afterward that the intellectual stimulation was lacking.

So Eddie doesn’t actually feel bad about any of this and Dustin rambles on.

“But I think if I got my hands on a limpet, or an abalone—“

And when he looks up he must catch something, like he must be able to tell, to read something despite Eddie being very fucking careful to keep a helluva poker face right now—and Eddie’s kinda proud, because maybe the little shithead can be taught.

“You’re joking,” Dustin concludes, dry as fuck and with the audacity to sound…disappointed? Like in a how-could-you-be-so-juvenile-as-to-stoop-to-this-level kind of way which. Which.

“Not at all,” Eddie clutches his non-existent pearls in mock offense, and Dustin’s eyes just narrow.

“I was right.”

“Might not want to say that too loud, Dusty-Buns,” Eddie shoots right back and Steve coughs unconvincingly to cover a laugh and Eddie bites his bottom lip to stop his own smile, less because of Dustin’s reaction and more just because…Stevie. Being adorable.

Steve being his Stevie.

“Yeah, that feels like slander,” Steve adds in thoughtfully, stroking his chin and everything before he turns to Eddie, considering.

“Can you slander yourself, if you’re embarrassing enough?”

And oh, oh: Eddie adores it when his boyfriend’s bitchy side comes out. He adores it so much.

“‘Course you can, big boy,” Eddie can’t help himself as he leans over and pecks at Steve’s cheek; Dustin scowls at them and Eddie can’t help himself, so he licks up Steve’s cheek for the disgusted grown from Dustin and the half-assed shove from Steve that doesn’t move him further away at all.

“You’re just jealous that I have a superpower,” Dustin ultimately shoots back which: okay, Eddie knows he’s capable of better than that, he’s kind of disappointed, that was so weak.

“It’s a stupid superpower,” Steve points out, plain and simple and Eddie wants to clap his hands. He. Loves. His. Bitchy. Boyfriend.

So. Much.

“Or is it a superpower for stupid?” Eddie asks, turning back to Steve like it’s a genuine question, a worthy debate.

“Naw,” Steve shakes his head, almost regretful; “he is pretty fuckin’ smart.”

“More than one kind of stupid, Stevie,” Eddie notes with due gravitas.

“Envy,” Dustin sniffs, so goddamn superior. “Green’s really not your fucking color,” and ooo, there’s a little snarl, a little sneer on his lips; “either of you.”

“I look good in green,” Steve points out, not even petulant, just factual.

“For example,” Eddie picks up and talks over Dustin’s comment like he never made one, leveling the little asshole with a pointed look:

“Some people are stupid about their tone.”

Steve doesn’t even try to cover his snort that time.

“You look good in everything, sweetheart,” Eddie takes the opportunity to comment, to sneak another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth as he purrs; “and out.”

“Disgusting,” Dustin gags and Eddie turns to glare as he bites out:

“Tone!”

Like, way to prove Eddie’s fucking point for him, wow, the lack of self-preservation is overwhelming here.

“I’m gonna go find El,” Dustin announces, like he thinks it’s an airport; “she will be thrilled to have someone like her around—“

“Remember what I said?” Eddie turns to Steve, exaggerates the knowing look he gives; “types of dumb,” then he turns again to Dustin, and knows his look is pitying, because he fucking means for it to be.

“Telekinesis and slug-speak aren’t even in the same universe, man,” and Jesus H., Dustin looks offended at the suggestion, which.

Which.

“The overlap of telepathic—“

“Slugs, Dustin,” Steve butts in, cuts him off; “I drown those fuckers in little bowls of beer in the yard. They go in willingly,” and oh. Oh, Eddie loves his boyfriend.

Eddie loves his boyfriend so goddamn much.

Because he hadn’t even noticed the set up, the slight of hand, because Steve had overturned the can of PBR he hadn’t finished, that had gone warm anyway, and dumped it into the shallow little bowl that used to have pretzel sticks inside, low enough to, to—

“Well they won’t anymore,” Dustin declares, fucking haughty with it; “because I will tell them—“

“Yet behold, special super slug-whisperer,” Eddie gasps and gestures wide to the mat where the slug demonstration had originally taken place: “whatever do we have here?”

What they have there is the little bowl of beer, set on the slug mat.

With slugs already drowned inside.

“Probably maybe you should be smarter about where you stick your attention if you really want to save your precious children from their hoppy graves,” Eddie shrugs, and infuses his words with as much fake fucking concern as he can fit into them because slug-whispering.

Fucking honestly.

Dustin only wastes a few seconds gaping at the scene, mouth working around something—comprehension, maybe, or just some degree of shock—before he turns his eyes up and glares at them both.

“You’re evil,” he says definitively, pointing; “both of you.”

“Go see El, Super Slug,” Eddie smiles indulgently; “she’s absolutely trembling with anticipation at the arrival of an equal, I’m sure of it.”

“After all, didn’t you say,” Steve shrugs and folds his arms over his chest, looks Dustin up and down before delivering the final blow:

“You were right.”

And Dustin scowls, and Eddie cackles, because that’s his brother, that’s their brother.

“Fucking assholes,” Dustin mutters, and leaves his slug mat and the beer-bowl behind as he stomps out the door: these children really need to learn about cleaning up after themselves, even if they leave in a stompy little huff like a goddamn toddler, fucking hell: but still.

Dustin’s their brother.

Like they were ever going to let him get away with bragging about slug powers.

permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderfam #humor #fluff #established relationship #featuring brotherly banter with one mr. problematic *TONE*: dustin henderson #dustin has superpowers #(but just one really and it's very stupid) #dustin henderson #hitlikehammers' hobbit-birthday prompt fest #stranger things #gift fic #slashify

[solarisburns]

Dorcas knew something was wrong when Evan showed up at her door one night. At the start of the war, right before she graduated all three of her-the boys took the dark mark. She wanted, desperately, for there to be more to the story, but if there was they never told her. So when she found out she was furious told them all she never wanted to speak to them ever again, and the only time they would see her face is from behind bars or in a shallow grave. They respected that and before she knew it, its been over a year and she missed them like she misses a limb. but she does not regret her decision.

So when one night evan shows up alone, dorcas knows something is wrong. she nearly curses him outright when he asks to come in but he offers his wand to her and doesn't even flinch when she rips it out of his hand. idly she considers snapping it. Evan didn't look good, he was more wirey than before the war and he looked depressed. his eyes were red.

he came into her apartment and looked around in curiosity, right he had never seen her apartment they had stopped speaking a week before she moved in. he sat on her couch and she pretended not to be hurt about how right it felt to have him here. then he spoke, "We wanted to tell you, I swear we did but he told us that if you knew and someone found out you would be a target. You and marlene and your family. We tried Dorcas we tried so fucking hard but were losing and we don't know what to do and you, your the most powerful witch we know and Reg-" he rambled frantically and when he tried to say Regulus' name his voice broke and Dorcas was filled with this horrible sense of dread. She knew why Evan was here but she didn't want to believe it. She needed to hear it out loud but merlin she didn't want to.

"Evan, what are you doing here."

"Regulus is dead."

"Oh."

And the worst part is, Dorcas knew, they all knew that Regulus would not make it through this war. One way or another, no matter what side, this always ended with Regulus dead. She feels a stab of resentment for the dead boy.

"Were spies, we um have been for years. Regulus stole something from Voldemort, he uh he died to get it. He told us if he didn't make it back to bring it to you, that you would have the power to destroy it. It's with Pandora at the moment, we try to keep it moving so theres less of a chance it can be tracked, but we wanted to tell you now. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you, I know you never wanted to see me again but Pandora is telling Sirius and Barty the Potters." Evan was crying, and he was desperately trying to hide it. Then Dorcas realized she was crying to. They sat there and cried and cried, it could have been for hours the two of them cried.

She clears her throat and looks at the clock, "Marlene will be home soon, you should leave. And uh tell Pandora she, alone, can bring whatever it is over tomorrow afternoon." Dorcas wants to forgive them but she can't, not yet. And Regulus is dead, it doesn't feel real except for the way it's all too real.

Evan nods, "of course, whatever you need." he holds his hand for his wand and turns towards the door when he gets it, but hesitates. "I know I have no right to ask this, but Cas, can I have a hug?"

She's up before he finishes his sentence and pulling him into a hug "Sure Ev." she whispers into his ear as she rocks them, their the same height now, she used to have an inch on him. he huffs what might be a laugh. and before she knows it their letting go and he's almost out the door.

"See ya around Meadowes?"

"See you around Rosier."

And then he's gone and if she closes her eyes she can pretend that he was never here at all. That somewhere in the world the three boys are out there getting drunk and ruining peoples lives and growing up without her. The boys are spies and lied to her for years and Regulus is dead. She sinks down the closed door and sobs.

(She never does see Evan around, he died two months later)

#if it wasn't obvious the He evan mentions is dumbles #she and pandora do fix their relationship #she and barty are to far gone and by the time they are willing to try marlene is dead all dorcas think about is revenge #part of the reason regulus told them to go to dorcas was in hope they would take of eachother cus he wasn't there to help them anymore #what happens when pandora tells sirius is already posted #barty is telling the potters becuz reg dated them during the school years and barty has always had a strange friendship with james #pandora told sirius because reg asked her to. he never said why. (he wanted his sister to be the one to tell his brother) #marauders #marauders era #dorcas meadowes #hogwarts #james potter #regulus black #marlene mckinnon #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #pandora rosier #lily evans #sirius black #first wizarding war #fuck dumbledore

[calxia]

Phantom's New Hobby Chapter 1

(I originally planned for this to be a short fic but it quickly got way out of proportion so I'll be posting it in a chaptered format. this first one is 1.5k alone.)

All the ghouls typically had their own things that they liked to do in their free time when all the clergy work was finished. All the ghouls except Phantom that is.

It made sense. He was the newest ghoul and had been on the surface for considerably less time than most of the others. But even Aurora (who had been summoned only a few months before him) had her own hobby. It was just Phantom who hadn't found anything yet.

He spent his free time bored out of his mind or idly plucking at his guitar. He could hardly consider playing the guitar his hobby. His guitar skills were the only thing keeping him on the surface, so it makes sense to keep them brushed up as much as possible. He wanted something more though, something he could do just because it made him happy. He wasn’t quite sure how all the other ghouls had decided what they wanted to do though.

Mountain was always the easiest of the others to find, and also probably the easiest to talk to. He was the definition of a gentle giant and was never anything but kind. He could always be found dutifully tending to his gardens with a tenderness that was rare to see from a ghoul. The gardens and greenhouses were Mountain’s domain. He adored every plant, from the smallest of flowers to the largest of trees. Phantom had watched him in his gardens before, back when he was first summoned and in awe of everything on the surface. Mountain had explained everything he was doing to the younger, despite how Phantom had still been unable to understand English back then. He had found the plants interesting back then, so maybe he could join Mountain in tending to the abbey grounds in his free time.

The taller ghoul was exactly where Phantom expected him to be. He found the other on his hands and knees in a greenhouse, gently weeding the raised beds as he spoke to the plants occupying them. Phantom stood at the doors of the greenhouse just watching him work for a few minutes before the earth ghoul stood up from where he was kneeling and wiped his muddy hands on his trousers.

“The plants told me that you’ve been standing there for a while Bug, why didn’t you say anything?” questioned Mountain, making his way over to Phantom with a hint of concern in his voice. The quintessence ghoul usually only sought Mountain out when he was overwhelmed or anxious about something and needed some quiet calmness to bring him out of it.

“I just wanted to watch you work for a bit,” started Phantom, “I want a hobby so I can do something when everyone else is busy.”

"So, you’ve decided to come give gardening a go again then?” said Mountain, stopping in front of the smaller ghoul. Phantom shyly nodded, realizing that he probably should have discussed this with Mountain beforehand instead of just dropping it on him out of nowhere.

“I can leave if you want?” the quintessence ghoul said, peering up at the larger ghoul through his hair.

Mountain was quick to jump on reassuring him. Phantom was still so unsure about his place in the pack no matter how much the others told him there was always a spot with his name on it. They had only just managed to get him to understand he was allowed to ask whatever he wanted, so Phantom asking to garden with Mountain was a huge step forward.

“you’re always welcome to come help me Bug, we can continue weeding the beds.”

Upon saying that, Mountain gently took ahold of the smaller’s hand and tugged him towards the raised beds he was working on. They both settled down and Mountain guided him through how to differentiate between plants and weeds, and how to remove the weeds without harming the surrounding plants. They worked side by side ridding all of the beds of weeds for a few hours before Phantom started getting twitchy and impatient. Gardening, while calming, was not the most stimulating hobby and wasn’t really holding his attention. If it hadn’t been for Mountain’s presence and quiet words, Phantom would have left the greenhouse hours ago. He sat idly fiddling with one of the discarded weeds while Mountain finished up the last pot, under-stimulated but not wanting to upset Mountain by leaving.

The earth ghoul sat back with a sigh before turning to face the other. “Run along and go find someone else, kid,” Mountain said, idly wiping his hands on his legs, “I can tell Gardening isn’t quite for you, but you’ll always be welcome in here with me.”

Phantom didn’t need to be told twice. He shot up and thanked Mountain profusely before darting out of the greenhouse to track down someone else. He left so quickly that he missed the fond smile gracing Mountain’s face as he watched the younger ghoul leave.

Phantom made his way back towards the Ghoul quarters. The rest of his pack were far less predictable than Mountain and could be anywhere in the abbey. He needed to wash the dirt off his hands anyway so he might as well check out the common areas of the pack den.

He climbed in through a window they left open at all times for easy access to their kitchen area to be greeted by Cumulus standing over a pot on the stove stirring. There was a sweet smell in the air which caused Phantom to begin to salivate. Cumulus’ baking was famous amongst all the ghouls and even the siblings and clergy. Everything she made was always so delicious and Phantom had been awestruck the very first time he had tasted any of it. Sweet wasn’t really a taste in the pit and Phantom had never had the opportunity to be picky; he ate what was available to him no matter what. The pit was eat or be eaten, there was no opportunity to have likes and dislikes.

Phantom had quickly grown to adore baked goods, and Cumulus’ were always the best. Maybe he could join Cumulus and take up baking?

Cumulus turned to face him with a content smile across her face. “Hello Puppy, I’m afraid there’s still a little bit until what I’m making is ready to eat.”

She was more than used to how Phantom would hang around the kitchens when she was almost finished baking, hoping that the air ghoul would take pity on him and give him something. He truly lived up to his nickname of Puppy, especially how he was currently beaming at her with his tail wagging behind him.

“what’re you making ‘Lus? Can I help you?” he said so quickly he stumbled over his words.

“Of course, Pup, I’m making salted caramel brownies and I’d love for you to give me a hand.” She replied, pointing at the image in the cookbook propped up on the windowsill. There were loads of steps to the recipe, but the example image looked so delicious that he couldn’t help but be excited.

“Pop an apron on first Sweet, can’t be having to clean up both you and the kitchen afterwards,” Cumulus said with a melodical humour in her voice as she herded the younger ghoul to the aprons hanging up on some hooks.

The rest of the afternoon went quick as he followed Cumulus’s lead in the kitchen. He was the complete opposite of her when it came to baking. The pack had realised pretty much immediately that Phantom should not be allowed near anything hot after he’d put his hands on the hot stove, so what he could help with was very limited. Cumulus had given him a bowl of dry ingredients to sift while she tackled melting chocolate and finishing up the caramel, and Phantom had somehow managed to get half of the flour into the dark patches of his fur within minutes. The older ghoul had just chuckled at Phantom’s nervous face when he realised just how much of a mess he’d made.

She was quick to distract him by pouring the chocolate mix into Phantom’s bowl and pressing a rubber spatula into his hands for him to mix it together. Cumulus helped the younger ghoul sandwich layers of the indulgent brownie batter with the thick, rich caramel before she slipped the tray into the oven. Phantom began to bounce from his heels to his toes as the anticipation of a sweet treat started to buzz under his skin.

“Phantom, come over here so I can clean the flour off of you before you traipse it around the den,” Cumulus called out from where she stood by the sink holding a damp cloth. The other bounced over to her and let her fuss over him and scrub the cloth through his fur, causing it to spike up in awkward clumps. It always embarrassed him just how much he got treated like a kit, but Phantom couldn’t deny each gentle touch made him preen under the attention.

“Ok pup, run along now, those brownies have to cook for a while and I need to get started on dinner.” She smiled fondly at him and ruffled a hand through his thick hair.

Phantom gave a pleased chirp before turning to leave the kitchen. He’s sure baking won’t be the hobby for him, so he better track down another packmate to try out theirs!

#phantom ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost headcanons #ghoul headcanons #cumulus ghoulette #mountain ghoul #calxwrites #Phantoms new hobby #pure fluff #why am i all of a sudden capable of writing sickeningly sweet things

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (18+ mdni), nausea (but no getting sick)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!! ; i know minho is the chef of the group but just suspend your disbelief for this series and pretend it’s jisung

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The kitchen on the Fallin’ Flower was small, but still impressive considering it was on a boat. Everything was up to standard, as far as you knew from what you had learned from Jisung, and covered in sleek stainless steel. 

You sat atop one of the counters while Minho rifled through the cabinets in search of something for you to snack on.

“I swear we have crackers somewhere around here,” he mumbled to himself. 

“I can just eat the leftovers,” you suggested for what must’ve been the third or fourth time. 

“No! What we had was spicy, that won’t be good for your stomach,” he insisted.

“Was it objectively spicy, or spicy to you?” you asked with a hint of a smile. 

“You wanna go there? The Korean versus the American in heat tolerance?” he challenged. “I’ll have you know that I quite like spicy food.”

“Are you sure?” you said, calling his bluff. 

“You know what, when you’re feeling better we���ll see who can handle it more between the two of us.”

“Name the time and the place I’ll be there.”

“Oh, here! I knew we had them!” Minho exclaimed, holding up a packet of saltines victoriously. 

 You took them from him gratefully and ripped open the plastic sleeve. Minho watched you carefully as you ate. He was leaning against the counter across from where you were sitting with his arms crossed over his chest casually. His features were softer than you remembered seeing them, like he was actually relaxed for once. 

He was always so tense, clenched jaw, stiff posture, you had just figured it was his default. But looking at him now was like seeing him for the first time. 

You offered him a cracker and he took it, smiling.

“Thanks.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” you said back. 

He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s nothing.” Then he trained his eyes on the floor. “Are you still mad at Jisung?”

You sighed and shoved another cracker into your mouth before answering. “A little,” you admitted. 

Minho nodded thoughtfully in understanding but didn’t respond. You wanted to explain yourself, explain that you weren’t just an angry girlfriend but you refrained. You weren’t sure how much of yourself to reveal to him, how much truth you could let slip through the cracks before you crossed into dangerous territory. 

You were a side character to the Han Family, a temporary one at that. You were playing a role, and in a couple of months you’d be written off and eventually replaced. Was it even worth it to open up to them?

“The thing is,” you started, surprising both yourself and Minho by breaking the silence, “I used to do the same thing.” You still did the same thing. “Whenever I slept with a stranger Jisung would lecture me about it, but apparently he was doing the same thing behind my back and it just… feels fucked up.”

“It is fucked up,” Minho agreed. He seemed angry now. “I’ll be honest, I’ve done that too, but he never said anything to me.”

“I know he means well, and he wanted me to be safe, but now it just feels like he was reinforcing some double standard. Do you know what I mean?”

“You mean you felt like he was judging you for something men do all the fucking time?”

Hit the nail on the head.

“More or less,” you said quietly. “I know he didn’t mean to-”

“Even unintentionally it’s not okay. You’re right, he was probably just trying to be protective, but he was still out of line.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

You nodded insistently. “I should be the one to talk to him.” You glanced over at the clock on the oven and straightened up. “Actually, I should go do that now. It’s getting late.”

Minho looked conflicted, words lingering unsaid between you. But he cleared his throat and offered you his hand to help you down from the counter. You took it and hopped down, almost colliding with him in the narrow kitchen alley. 

Your chests were nearly pressed together, that’s how small the walkway was. You thought that if you breathed you would surely brush up against him. So you held your breath.

“Okay, goodnight,” Minho said finally.

“Goodnight. Thanks for the crackers.” You held the half-empty package out to him to take, but he refused.

“Keep them. You might feel better now, but you’re going to need more food to soak up some of the alcohol.”

“Thanks.”

“Make sure to drink a lot of water, too,” he added. “I don’t want you to feel hungover in the morning.”

You promised him you would and let yourself out of the kitchen to go back to your and Jisung’s bedroom. You clung to the wall in the hallway as you stumbled to your room. You couldn’t tell if your inhibited balance was due to the rocky sea beneath the boat or your own drunkenness, but it felt like the room was spinning. 

Once you found your room you practically fell through the door onto the carpeted floor. Jisung caught you clumsily, saving you from rug burn on your knees. 

“Y/n!” You could hear the surprise in his voice as he hoisted you onto the bed. “I went up to the top deck to look for you, but you were gone, so I came back here- but you weren’t here either.”

You didn’t have the energy to explain yourself so you just held up the crackers that were still in your hand. 

“How much did you have to drink?”

“I don’t know, enough for me to lose the fucking game,” you grumbled. “I forgot to have dinner too, so that didn’t help.”

Jisung grimaced. “Oh, that’s right.”

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes tightly, trying to stop the dizziness, but it only made it worse. Jisung was looking down at you solemnly, hands on his hips like a worried dad. You avoided his eyes, too ashamed and angry to meet them. You knew that if you did you would start crying. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said gently, after a moment had passed. You could tell he meant it, but a little part of you doubted.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” you sighed. 

“I think I do.” You stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to continue. “It’s because I was an asshole about hookup culture, isn’t it? I always tell you that you shouldn’t sleep with strangers, but I went and did the same thing. And I never told you about it. Does that about cover it?”

Your silence was a confirmation in of itself and Jisung shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it really was before I met you. And it’s the only time I never got their name.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, not even convincing yourself. “You can fuck whoever you want, just don’t be a hypocrite when it comes to me. I know you want me to be safe, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” 

Jisung looked at you like he didn’t believe that last part but ultimately agreed. “I’ll try my best,” he assured you. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more frat guys, please.” You laughed. “I have a heart attack every time I check your location and you’re at a frat house. If you care about my health you’ll go back to athletes.” 

“Fine,” you sighed. “I guess I can do that.” 

Jisung gave you a satisfied hum and took a seat on the bed next to you, pushing stray hairs out of your face. Even lying still, you still felt like you were being tossed and turned. The boat’s steady rocking was doing nothing to help your state. 

“Ji, I don’t feel good,” you complained, holding your stomach.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he offered and nodded towards the door to the ensuite of your room.

“This boat has a fucking bathtub?” Jisung just chuckled and nodded. “Jesus Christ.”

“Do you want me to run you one?”

“Yes please.”

Jisung slipped from your side and disappeared into the bathroom. You heard him turn on the faucet and let the water run until it was hot before plugging the drain. He appeared in the doorway again before you could process anything else. 

“C’mere,” he said and beckoned you over. “It’s ready for you. Call me if you need anything.”

He had left a towel out on the counter for you and turned out all the lights except for the one above the mirror so it wouldn’t be too much for you. The water was the perfect temperature too. 

You felt a pang of guilt twinge in your stomach thinking about what had gone down between you a few hours ago. You’d yelled at him, embarrassed him in front of his brothers, and here he was admitting he was wrong, apologizing, and doing something nice for you. Even if he was in the wrong, you weren’t absolved of all responsibility. You had been the one to let your temper and insecurities get the better of you. 

You blew out a breath and slipped under the surface of the water, letting it overtake your senses. You took your time washing your hair and body, content to sit in the bath until the water got cold and your fingers pruned. 

Jisung was lying on the bed reading when you came back into the bedroom. He looked up at you and smiled when he saw you wrapped in a towel. 

“Cold?” he asked, as if your shivering wasn’t apparent enough. You nodded. “Put your pajamas on and come warm up in bed then!”

“But that’s so much work!” you whined, even though you were already searching through your suitcase for your PJs. 

Jisung rolled his eyes at you and went back to his book. You got dressed and promptly hopped into bed next to him, pulling the blankets all the way up to your chin. 

“Do you think tomorrow will be awkward?” you whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Like with your brothers and stuff, because we kind of had a fight.”

“Oh, maybe a little,” he admitted. 

“I think we should have makeup sex then,” you decided. “And then we can just pretend like everything’s fine.” 

“My brothers are all the way on the other side of the boat, though. It’s not worth it to have fake sex again if they can’t even hear us.” 

“I’ll just give you a hickey this time.” 

“But you’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

Jisung shrugged. “Fair enough.”

You wriggled out of your blanket cocoon enough to reach his neck and licked a stripe up the column of his throat before settling on a place to suck.

“Fuck,” Jisung let out with a surprised shudder. You forced yourself not to think about it and kept going until a nice rosy bruise had blossomed under his skin. 

“I think that’s good, what about you?” 

Jisung stood from the bed and walked over to the mirror to admire your work. He angled his head so that the light would shine right on the mark and swore. It was still pink and raw, but the purple and blue shades were already starting to emerge underneath. 

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to tell my parents, y/n?”

“I don’t know, that you got hit with a ping pong ball or something?”

“Like they’ll believe that!”

“I made it low enough so that it can be covered with a t-shirt, just wear your shirt around them if it’s that big a deal.”

“But it’s going to be hot tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, stop being a baby. Yours isn’t even as big as mine was.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Jisung,” you pleaded, “please just come back to bed already. I’m tired.”

Your best friend relented and returned to the bed, this time slipping underneath the covers next to you. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table and rolled over to face you. For whatever reason, you felt compelled to be closer to him so you rolled onto your side and pushed your body back against his. He took your cue and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you so that he was spooning you. 

You fell asleep tangled together like you had hundreds of times, only for you to dream about his brother.

-

It wasn’t your fault, really. It’s not like you could control your subconscious. The dream was innocent enough… 

You were with your friends in your old apartment playing beer pong when Minho came up behind you and slung an arm around your waist. He pulled you close, kissed you on the cheek once, and turned his attention to the game. 

“Who’s winning?”

“Y/n’s up by two,” Ruby, a girl from your cohort explained.  

“That’s my girl,” Minho said with a wink, squeezing your hip. 

His girl. It rolled off his tongue like he’d said it a thousand times, like he’d say it a thousand more. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m tired.”

“What? You’re winning! You can’t quit now,” he insisted. 

“Sure I can.”

“What if I join your team and play a couple of rounds for you?” he suggested. “How does that sound?”

“Fine, I guess. Just don’t ruin my score.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Minho lifted his head to address your friends. “Mind if I take over for a sec?”

“I feel you’re going to do it anyway regardless of what we say.”

“You’re right,” Minho quipped before aiming the ping-pong ball at the other side of the table. He sank the ball into a cup in the upper left-hand corner effortlessly, shooting you a victorious grin.

“It’s not fair that they’re playing together,” Ruby’s teammate whined as Minho scored another point. 

“Drunk and drunker always win,” your friend said matter-of-factly, bringing the plastic cup of beer to her mouth. 

“No, we don’t!” Minho argued. 

“When you’re sober you don’t,” Ruby agreed. “That’s how you got your nickname.”

Minho handed the last ping-pong ball to you. “You make the winning shot, babe. You’re the one that did most of the work.”

The next thing you knew he was kissing you in celebration, swinging you around like you’d just won the World Cup. You kissed him back, but something felt off. You never did this with Jisung- then it hit you. 

“Where’s Jisung?” 

Minho set you down and gave you a look of confusion. “Who?”

You jolted awake with a start, guilt immediately flooding your senses. The dream hadn’t been anything sexual, but you still felt like you had done something wrong. 

Jisung was still holding you, his arms wrapped around your midsection and his legs intertwined with yours, and you suddenly felt suffocated by the position. As gently and as quickly as possible you untangled yourself from your best friend and climbed out of bed. 

Your head was pounding and you remembered what Minho had said about drinking a lot of water last night, and about how you’d ignored it. 

You splashed some cold water on your face in the bathroom, but all it did was get your hair and shirt wet. It didn’t wake you up at all. 

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom you saw that Jisung was still asleep and breathed a sigh of relief. You weren’t ready to face him yet. You knew he wouldn’t know about your dream, but for some reason, you felt like he would. Like he’d take one look at you and know your subconscious had replaced him with his older brother. 

The hickey you’d given him the night before was peeking out of the collar of his shirt. It had faded a bit since then but was still noticeable. You wondered if anyone would say anything about it. 

-

“Jisung, what the fuck happened to your neck?”

You nearly spit out your drink when you heard Felix ask his twin brother the question in front of everyone. 

Jisung turned bright red and automatically looked to you, even though you were screaming at him not to with your eyes. 

“I, um, burned myself,” he sputtered.

You wanted to tackle him to the ground. What happened to the pep talk you’d had with him yesterday about this very scenario?

His parents thankfully looked uninterested, but Felix just smirked. Minho had raised his head from his phone, but you couldn’t read his expression. He was paying attention to his brothers’ conversation but seemed annoyed. You thought he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to clown his younger brother, but he was acting like he couldn’t care less, like he wanted them to stop talking about it altogether. Felix had to fly solo on this one.

“I didn’t know burn marks could be purple.”

“You learn something new every day,” Jisung said through gritted teeth. 

“Mhm, you sure do,” Felix mused, biting his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

-

You only had one more day on the boat, then one day in Venice where you docked. Another taxi, another train, another two-mile walk because you got lost and you were checking into another hotel in Florence with the Hans. 

There was barely any time to settle into your rooms before you had to reconvene in the lobby. Apparently, you were already running behind on the itinerary and needed to be in the next location for the day in less than an hour. 

You had hastily changed into your matching t-shirt and walking shoes before dragging Jisung downstairs with you. The couple days of rest on the yacht had made the soreness in your legs subside, but ten minutes of walking through the city had it returning with a vengeance.

You couldn’t even enjoy the scenery because you were too distracted by the blisters forming on the backs of your heels. 

Florence was hotter than Paris, and even more crowded. There were people everywhere.  Every corner you turned had you nearly colliding with another group of tourists who, more often than not, were also wearing matching t-shirts. 

Jisung was holding your hand, but the contact was beginning to feel sticky and unbearable. You let go and wiped your hand on your shorts, earning a silent thank you from your counterpart. 

After what seemed like an eternity Dom and Nikki finally stopped in front of a small storefront with a small wooden sign hanging from the overhead balcony that read Vivanda. 

The second the air conditioning hit you you breathed a sigh of relief and sank into the nearest chair, only to be forced to stand up again when you were all ushered into another room. 

Instead of sightseeing today you were taking a class where you’d learn how to make pasta by hand. Jisung had learned how to make pasta a couple of years ago in his culinary arts program but wanted to take another class in the pasta capital of the world. He also wanted you to learn yourself since you were constantly asking him to make it for you. 

The other students were already waiting in the kitchen for you when the six of you filed in. Your instructor introduced himself as Leo and passed down a disposable apron for each of you. You wrote your names in print big enough to read as he gave you the spiel. He was handsome, a little older, but still handsome with a 5 o’clock shadow and thick-rimmed glasses that were balanced on the bridge of his nose. You had to remind yourself not to stare. 

Jisung helped you tie your apron in the back and then did it himself with the expertise of a practiced professional before you both joined the line to wash your hands. The table was covered with wax paper and in front of everyone was a pile of flour and a couple of eggs.

Leo demonstrated how to create a little bowl in your flour mountain and then crack the eggs inside. He started to mix the ingredients together with his hands and everybody else followed suit. You didn’t like the feeling of the dough sticking to your skin, the texture of the flour was gritty and the runniness of the eggs made it feel wet, but you tried to ignore the discomfort and knead it as fast as possible.

Jisung was finished first, unsurprisingly, and tried to help you with yours. He stood behind you and held your hands in his, pressing his thumbs over yours to show you the technique. 

“Like this,” he said, pressing with a little more force than you had been using. 

“It’s hard,” you complained. 

“That’s what she said,” Felix whispered next to you, immediately followed by “sorry” when you and Jisung both glared at him. 

“It just takes practice,” Jisung assured you, despite all of the other first-time students kneading their dough with ease. 

“Jisung, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were the teacher of this class,” Leo complimented, testing the firmness of his dough. 

“He’s a chef,” you said proudly.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Minho interjected. 

Jisung scoffed, giving his brother a dirty look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

i see skz in a few days and i'm freaking out adkjfhsdj anyway lmk what you think, i always appreciate feedback!

iou tags: @sluttywoozi @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsdofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvselines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @sana-within-you @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtoooyoungforthisshit @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcoffee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands

add yourself to the taglist here!

#instead of you skz #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female!reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lino x reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know fic #lee know fanfic #lee know fanfiction #lee know series #stray kids series

[nickfowlerrr]

Prompt: How would pwyc bucky handle another woman shamelessly flirting with him in front of reader (who becomes seething with jealousy!). Wanting to put reader’s mind at ease but also somewhat enjoying her possessive and jealous behaviour over him as it makes him feel wanted?

angel in hiding. devil in disguise.

pwyc series masterlist

pairing: pwyc!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. fingering. pet names. jealousy (duh). if i’m missing something important pls let me know.

words: 3.3k

notes: i swear i tried to finish this before halloween lmao. also - no clue how to play pool so idk what i wrote 💀. thank you so much for sending this in, anon! sorry it took literally months for me to actually write it but i hope you enjoy. also i’m considering rewriting this prompt with a bit more angst so if that’s something anyone’d like to see pls let me know. anyway, thank you for reading! 🖤

The costume was a tight fit to say the least. It hugged your body and showed off your figure more than you knew would be possible, but you shouldn’t have expected anything less from a costume Bucky had chosen. You really didn’t want to even show up tonight, but he insisted. When you tried to get out of it by telling him you didn’t have a costume, he smirked and before he said a word, you knew he had planned for this conversation before he even got home.

“It’s a Monday night, Buck,” you complained.

“And? What exactly do you have going on tomorrow that you can’t stay out late?”

“That’s not the point,” you tried to evade his question.

“You’re coming. Whether you like it or not. It’ll be fun,” he smirked before he handed you the bag that held the dress and accessories he picked up. “We’re leaving at 8.”

He left, giving you no room to object any further. Not that it would have done you any good if you had. You bit your lip as you worried.

All you could think about while you were getting ready was the last time you had dressed up and gone out for halloween. You had been publicly humiliated and left the bar in tears. As you stared at yourself in the mirror, it was like you could hear the taunting laughter from the memory echoing in your mind. You tore your gaze away from your reflection and quickly wiped at your teary eyes when Bucky knocked on the door.

“I’m almost done,” you said, irritated.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding worried while he ignored your attitude.

“‘M fine. I’ll be out in a second,” you responded, once again eyeing yourself in the mirror. You knew he knew what you were feeling, so what was the point of telling him. He could piece it together himself. You fixed your makeup quickly and made sure your hair was how you wanted it. There was no sense in nitpicking the costume, you had no other options anyway. You opened the door in a huff and looked exhaustedly at Bucky who was dressed as a devil. He smirked widely the second he took you in, eyes scanning you up and down before he walked closer. His hands smoothed along your curves - from your waist down your wide set hips where they settled before he pulled you closer.

“An absolute angel,” he simpered while his wandering hands found your ass, squeezing firmly and eliciting a little gasp from you.

“An angel and a devil..it’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” you asked with a raised brow.

“What better duo than that?” he responded. “You look fucking gorgeous, sweetheart,” he complimented again, his hands beginning to wander even further.

“Okay,” you stressed, stopping his hand from creeping under the hem of your dress. “I’m still not happy about this, and youre not gonna distract me with compliments or sex,” you accused. “Let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit,” he joked.

“Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we leave,” you said, trying to push him backwards to the door.

“How much of a difference does 15 minutes make?” he said, voice low as he eyed you, his body not budging an inch despite your effort.

“You get me out of there by 11 and you’ll have a lot more than 15 minutes,” you bribed.

“Deal,” he grinned, leaning down to kiss you, rough at first before he slowed down and softened his lips against yours, savoring the taste of your lips on his.

You pulled away nearly out of breath when he took your hand and started for the door.

You don’t know what had gotten into you, but the visceral jealousy coursing through your body was making you sick. You had gotten to the bar an hour and a half ago, greeted by everyone in the club and quite a few of their significant others. There were a handful of groups of college students and a few groups of your average joe’s just hanging around, too, nearly everyone in costume. Bucky had led you to the back right away, the area reserved for him. It was less rowdy and you were happy to see some familiar faces around the table when you got there.

“Hot!” Kate yelled when she saw you, pulling you in for a hug. You could smell the tequila on her when she did.

“Are you seriously drunk already?” you questioned when you pulled away, only receiving a giggle before she laughed loudly. Near maniacal.

“It’s Halloween!”

She saw Peter passing and spun to follow him, loudly shouting, “How’d it go? She give you her number?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her obnoxiousness and the blush lighting up Peter’s face when she said it, shushing her as she got near.

Bucky was at the bar getting a beer for himself and a ginger ale for you, but after a few minutes went by and he hadn’t returned you decided to go meet him.

When you walked up to the bar, you saw him sitting on one of the stools as a tall blonde leaned over the bar while she spoke to him. You were never a jealous person. But she was just a little too close and she was talking for a little too long. You were noticeably bothered by it as Yelena came up beside you.

“She’s been hitting on him since the moment he got there,” she told you matter of factly, accent made thicker with the vodka in her bloodstream. You turned ever so slightly to look at her before you returned your gaze to the slender girl still blabbering on about who knows what.

“Really?” you asked.

“Why would I lie?” she returned, letting you know how stupid she thought your question was. “Yes, really.”

Just then you saw Jack bring a slim glass of ginger ale to Bucky who took it with a “thanks”. As he was getting up to walk away, the blonde reached out and put her hand on his bicep, stopping him for a moment. You couldn’t see his face, but you could see her clearly. The sickly sweet smile she gave him accompanied by a giggle as she squeezed him ever so slightly had you gritting your teeth. Your eyes were narrowed in on her every move before Bucky finally turned around. He saw you instantly and cursed under his breath as he approached you. “Hell, sweetheart, did I tell you how fucking good you look in white?” He extended your drink to you with an awed smile and you took it without a word before you spun around and walked back to the table you’d been at previously.

“Sweetheart,” he said as he followed behind you.

When you got to the back, you sat at the empty booth off to the side, Bucky sliding in across from you.

“Something the matter, angel?” he asked, though he certainly knew there was.

“What was that?” you asked, annoyance clear in your voice.

He raised a brow as he watched you, something akin to amusement playing in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” he started playfully before you shot him a glare.

“Do you think this is funny?” you asked, irritated.

“Honestly, sweetheart? Yeah, I kind of do.”

You scoffed and made to get up before his hands caught yours and stopped you.

“Baby, come on,” he laughed, “you’re my soulmate. What the hell do you have to be jealous of? There’s no one else in the world I want aside from you.”

“Smooth talking isn’t gonna get you anywhere, Barnes.”

“Are you seriously mad at me? Or are you just trying to find a reason to leave early?”

“If you really don’t see an issue here, I honestly don’t know what to say to you.”

“Baby -” he began again.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me right now,” you said harshly, cutting him off. “Soulmate or not, it doesn’t exactly make me feel good when I see someone shamelessly flirting with you at a bar. Imagine how you’d feel. You’d flip the fuck out.”

He stood from his seat with a sigh and slid into your side of the booth. He turned your face to his and made sure you were looking him in his eye when he spoke.

“You’re right, I would. I guess I never thought you’d feel the same way if the roles were reversed, though. Didn’t think you’d ever get so possessive over me,” he smirked. “I gotta say, it makes me feel pretty good. But I am sorry it upset you. Even though I wasn’t really listening to anything she was saying and I didn’t give her any reason to think I was interested in the slightest,” he trailed.

“Why’d she grab your arm?” you pointed out.

“She asked if it was actually metal. I said yes. She grabbed me as I turned to leave and laughed asking if I could feel it. I said no and asked her to remove her hand and she did and then I turned around to see this stunning angel with eyes for me only and I followed her to the back of the bar. Let her really give it to me,” he joked lightly, his voice tapered off just slightly as he leaned closer and took your lips in his for a soft kiss. “Seriously, though, sweetheart. You have no idea how good it feels to know you were jealous over me,” he simpered in your ear. “Maybe I can show you,” he purred. You had to take a sobering breath as you pulled away from him.

“Maybe you can keep it in your pants for another hour,” you shot back.

Bucky chuckled under his breath as he let up.

“Fine,” he said, hands up as he left the booth. “I can be patient.”

An hour later you found yourself counting down the minutes before the clock hit eleven. You’d had a good time and weren’t totally regretting coming but your social battery was now depleted. All you wanted to do was go home. Bucky promised you’d leave after one more game of pool with the guys and you relented your complaints for the time being. He offered to show you how to play finally, but you declined. Yelena and Kate were well past drunk and you figured you’d spend the rest of your time waiting to leave listening to them talk absolute shit about everyone and anyone who passed by. It was ridiculous and they were so catty, but it was also hilarious and kept your attention from the blondie over at the bar who kept eyeing the pool table every other minute.

You knew, logically, you had nothing to worry about. But something deep inside you was on edge. Just waiting for her to try and approach Bucky again. You wouldn’t just stand by and watch this time if she did. The feeling was so foreign but so based. Bucky was yours and you’d make sure she knew it if you had to.

Not five minutes later, just like you knew she would, you watched her coming around the bar and head straight for the pool area. You were closer than she was and got up the second you noticed, walking right to Bucky. He was standing to the side of the table with one hand holding his cue up as he watched Steve line up his shot. You came right up beside him and put your arm through his free one as you leaned into his side. He looked down at you with a raised brow and you saw the quirk of his lip as he watched you lean your head against his arm.

“We’re almost done, princess,” he told you, wanting to assure you before you started complaining again. “We’ll leave soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said, taking him by surprise. But when he saw the blonde bartender from earlier, he quickly caught on to why you were being so clingy all of a sudden.

He breathed a laugh as he shook his head. “You’re really on alert tonight, aren’t you,” he smirked.

“Apparently I have to be,” you responded. “She’s been staring at you from the bar since you guys walked over here.”

Just as you finished, the girl made her way to you and Bucky after asking the rest of the guys if they needed anything. She paid absolutely no attention to you as she addressed Bucky.

“Need a drink, honey?” she asked sultrily while you burned a hole through her with your stare.

Sensing your aggravation, Bucky pulled his arm from your hold and instead wrapped it around you, pulling you further into his side while his hand laid on your hip.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he responded.

“You’re up Buck,” Sam said, pulling your attention across the table.

“Oh, I definitely wanna see this,” the girl simpered. “You’ve gotta be good,” she said, trying to talk to him. You couldn’t help the dirty look you shot her, it was almost like it wasn’t you. It was just your immediate reaction. She paid you no mind, though as her eyes were locked on Bucky.

As he moved his arm from around you and made to move around the table to line up his shot, your body and tongue seemed to move before your mind did. You grabbed his hand and pressed yourself to him again, “I changed my mind,” you said. “I wanna learn.”

“Of course you do,” he said quietly to you as he smirked, a sense of pride coming over him. Seeing you so territorial and jealous was really getting to him. He felt damn near giddy. Though of course he wanted to ease your mind, he also knew words alone wouldn’t cut it. He’d let you do whatever you wanted at this point. Hell, he’d get down on his knees right here and now if you asked him to, to show everyone that he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

He could feel eyes on both of you, not just from the bartender, but from others all around the bar, too. And he was more than ready to let you put on a show. He gently led you to lean over the table to help you line up the shot properly while he stood directly behind you, enjoying the way the short hem of the stark white dress was riding up your thick thighs as you bent over provocatively. His hand shot to your waist as you wiggled your ass back ever so slightly against him. You bit back your smile as he gripped you just a bit tighter before he came over and really helped you line it up, explaining what you were aiming for and what balls you were trying to avoid sinking. You weren’t really paying attention, though. You were just enjoying the weight of the blonde girl's gaze on you as she watched, nothing short of bitter.

Bucky helped you make your shot and when you sunk the last ball he needed to win, he pulled you into him from behind while he celebrated with cheers and Steve and Sam cursed at their losses. Bucky’s arms wrapped around your middle as he kissed your face while you smiled. His face nuzzled into your neck as he left kisses there, too.

“I told you, sweetheart, no better duo than us,” he smirked. “I’m gonna close out then we’ll leave,” he told you. “How’s it feel to lose to someone who’s never played pool a day in their life? Either she’s a natural or you two just suck that fuckin’ badly,” he taunted his friends as you walked to the table Yelena and Kate were still at to grab your purse you had left with them. You had to pass the blonde to get there and as you did, you stopped to look at her, your gaze meeting hers. “Was he as good as you thought he’d be?” you asked innocently enough.

She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. She looked you up and down before she huffed and blinked away. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she denied. “I have some tables to tend to,” she continued, avoiding you now.

“Of course,” you agreed, watching her turn around and walk to the other end of the bar without looking back. Bucky was at your side not a moment later.

“Ready?” he asked. You got your purse from the table and said goodnight to Yelena and Kate before you headed out of the bar for the night.

“So,” Bucky started. “Was that as terrible as you thought it’d be?”

“Hm,” you hummed. “Could’ve been worse,” you allowed with a shrug as you walked to Bucky’s rarely used car.

“I’ll take it,” he laughed.

“What time is it?” you asked as you leaned into his side once again.

“10:54.”

“Looks like you kept your end of the deal,” you alluded, eyeing him as you approached the sleek black car. He smirked at that before he opened the door for you, guiding you in.

“Looks like,” he returned before he shut the door for you, walking around the hood to get in himself. Once he was seated, he started the car before he turned to you.

“And when we get home it's your turn,” he said headily as his right hand landed on your thigh, squeezing the soft ample flesh before he ran his hand over your skin, goosebumps rising at his touch as he got closer to your inner thigh.

“Who says we have to wait until we’re home?” you breathed, your thighs spreading for him as he inched closer to your center.

“For an angel you sure are feisty tonight,” he pointed out.

“Funny, cause for a devil you’ve sure been awful sweet,”

“Oh, princess, it only gets sweeter,” he said as his fingers made their way past the material of your panties, stoking the fire that he lit in you earlier. He drove with his left hand as he pulled out onto the street, his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, moving in and out of you, your pussy wet and wanting while you mewled and writhed on the leather seat. Each twist of his fingers inside you, every curl of them against your walls brought you closer. The white heat growing in your lower belly while he played you so easily was building higher and higher until you couldn’t hold it any longer. Your thighs tensed and your eyes closed shut in pleasure as your walls squeezed his fingers still inside of you while you came.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned while his thumb stoked your clit, prolonging your orgasm. “Feel good, princess? You’re clamped down on my fingers like you don’t want me to stop.”

You only moaned in response while he continued working you on his fingers, showing no signs of letting up anytime soon.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’m not gonna stop. We’re gonna see how many times I can make you come on my fingers before we get home. And then the real fun begins,” he purred lowly. All you could do was mewl in response, back arching as he found the spot he was looking for.

“There it is,” he grinned. Your gasp turned into a moan as he rubbed against it repeatedly, bringing you close to your second orgasm already. You knew you’d be an overstimulated mess by the time you got home, but it felt so good you couldn’t bring yourself to care. When his thumb found your clit again, you were done for, panting his name as he worked you faster, his touch firm and titillating.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised as you came undone again. “You’re a literal fucking angel, sweetheart. So goddamn pretty. Especially when you look like this. So fucked out and dumb already and you’ve only had my fingers. Can’t wait to see you squirm on my cock.”

#pwyc series #asks #anon #soft!dark bucky x plus size!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #soft!dark bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #dark!biker!bucky #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader

[izvmimi]

malevolent enterprise ch. 4

cw: ceo!au. in which you, the reader, meet ceo itadori for the first time. reader wears a dress and heels. header by @/cafekitsune! masterlist

“A pleasure to meet you finally.”

Yuuji’s smile is wide and friendly as he rises out of his seat upon his interviewee’s entry. You, having just been led into his office by a rather flustered appearing secretary, the type that is doing her best but her best is at best subpar, are still trying to control your expression when you  meet face to face with him. You do your best to offer him a smile, taking advantage of your disarming features, and in a few measured steps, stride across the room to your seat, taking his hand in a gentle handshake before having a seat.

“Thank you for having me, sir.”

You smooth out the back of your skirt as you sit, thanking the heavens that you haven’t had some mishap with your pantyhose, as is the tendency. You usually prefer a pantsuit, but you’ve been told that Itadori Enterprises is on the conservative side, so you’re clad in the only suit-skirt combo you own paired with sensible pumps instead of loafers, hoping that you make it through the day without mishap. The young man in front of you does not appear very conservative, you think, and in fact something about his relatively cheerful expression and pink hair gives him an air of childishness. Keeping your own countenance just shy of neutral yet warm, you focus your eyes on him. 

“I’m happy you were willing to interview me this early. I was very excited to see that you reached out for an interview in less than 48 hours of my application, and I would like you to know that I’d be honored to be considered for such a coveted position.” You begin.

Yuuji nods, but says nothing else. He appears to be studying you, which is surprising but preferred to the outright ogle that you’ve had in your past couple of interviews this week, so rather than dwell on it, you consider an opportunity to continue speaking. 

“As mentioned in my cover letter and resume, I’ve had years of experience at Gojo Corp., and while I’ve left amicably in search of other opportunities, I am very capable of transferring valuable skills learned there to your organization,” you finish. He’s let you speak for long enough, and asked you very few questions, and you decide you  might as well end your monologue strong and hope for the best. 

Amicable is somewhat of a stretch, but you continue to say it without hesitation. What really happened is you’d slapped a resignation letter on your desk after weeks of responsibilities being heaped onto you at increasing intervals, in the midst of increasingly long vacations from your womanizing boss and more and more casually disrespectful speech. Satoru, for some reason, had decided that you were the one to play games with somewhere in the last three to six months of your tenure, and you frankly had run out of the coins to continue. When you’d finally quit, Satoru had nothing to say but finally, and before you could really take your time and lay into him, threatening a workplace harassment lawsuit, he’d clapped his hands together, thanked you for your time, and told you he was hoping you’d finally know your worth. 

Leave, he asked, a glint in his eye. You genuinely deserve better than to be here, working with a peon like me. 

The sarcasm stung until you realized he wasn’t being sarcastic in the way you expected. Gojo offered you enough severance pay to last you practically a year, knowing it was far from enough for what you've done for him. 

I think you undervalue yourself, he said, an unsolicited piece of advice included with the hefty sum of money stuffed into a neat envelope. You never asked for a promotion, and took more and more work, to the point that you might as well have been running this place on your own, doing the job of ten people.

Angrily, you reminded him that he could have just treated you like a human being and you’d never have resorted to resignation, but he laughed, swinging his legs on the desk and leaning back into his chair, head resting on his palms.

You wouldn’t have been forced to know your worth, he’d said.

You didn’t like this type of support, but here you were, being considered for an executive position, something you would have never considered a year ago.

And this wasn’t the only one. 

“From what I’ve seen of your application, you are absolutely impressive. I’m surprised Mr. Gojo had you doing middle management for so long.”

You resist the urge to make the joke, “you and me both,” but Yuuji seems to pause to expect it as though he is reading your thoughts. Instead you smile, and look down at your open portfolio. Then you look up and see that his mouth seems to have opened slightly in a small ‘o’ as though he’s surprised in anticipation of what you’ll say before you say it. 

“I absolutely have the skills to be an executive at this company. I understand if you’d prefer someone internal and appreciate the opportunity to be considered. If I must be so bold, I would like to share that I already have been offered a similar position at another company, but I’m very particular to your company’s mission, and would much prefer to be here.”

Yuuji perks up in a way that makes you practically imagine dog ears on his person. He’s far too… cute, wet around the ears appearing to be in this sort of position, you think for a moment. Too easy to read. Too sincere.

“Where?” he asks, eyebrow raised. His light brown eyes seem to betray a premonition of the answer. You wonder if the brothers talk - you had spent enough time searching for any backstory to supplant what you’ve heard through the grapevine about the corporation’s split, but often financial matters and family matters do not completely align. You have heard that the two are not fond of each other, and that simple knowledge encourages you to move things in your favor.

“Ryomen Industries.”

Yuuji frowns. He pauses and mulls over this information and for a moment you wonder if you’ve overstepped, shifting in your chair and masking your discomfort with a quick cross of the legs, and folding your hands in your lap to prevent yourself from looking seductive. Yuuji however is not looking at you, his chin pressed to his fist suddenly as he thinks, staring at a fixed point at the wall, slightly off from you.

Then his eyes snap back towards you.

“Whatever they’ve offered you, I can offer you double or triple.”

Your eyes grow wide.

Unable to help it, the first thought that crosses your mind is No way he knows what he’s doing.

To quell your disbelief, you let your lips curl into a smile.

“Forgive my candor, but are you simply that impressed by me or do you simply refuse to lose?”

Yuuji blinks, taken aback by your speech, but you’ve realized by now that Yuuji has already hired you in your mind. You are not at any risk. 

“Don’t mind that.” Yuuji smiles, this time the corners not reaching his eyes to the same extent, and he takes your portfolio. 

“Are you willing to start tomorrow?” he asks. He clears his throat, and you know it to mean that the current subject has been tabled for later.

“Yes.”

Yuuji rises, and you rise as well. He rounds the desk to meet you, and now that he’s closer, you take a better, more focused look at him. Sweet-faced but quite handsome, you admit, with broad shoulders, and you spot a wrinkle in his suit that you’d consider smoothing out if you weren’t a stranger. His walk is more confident than it should be for a man you feel like you just conned. Something about all of this is far too easy, you think. You are suspicious.

Yuuji leads you out, walking a bit too quickly ahead of you, and while you keep up for the most part, you find yourself staring at the back of his head, then your eyes travel further to his backside, admiring the cut of his suit, the shine in his shoes. He’s tall, and he speaks softly to the confused secretary, reminding her to do her job and make sure to send you an email of your formal contract. He takes you on a very brief tour of the building, talking animatedly as you take the elevator with him. He smiles far too easily, too much, and the middle managers speak to him casually. You’re not sure if you like that. 

He introduces you by your new title and you bow. They will not speak to you casually, is your first thought. At least, not at first.

You make a circle with him, and he shows you your supposed office. It’s a 2 minute walk from his, and appears similar, just slightly smaller, with one armchair placed in the corner, instead of a small sofa. It’s bare, and does not have your name on the plate on the door or on the desk. Somehow that is reassuring.

“Please let me know if the specifications are alright,” he asks.

That’s not his job, that’s his secretary or assistant’s job, you say in your head, but offer him a polite nod. He offers you another handshake.

“Glad to have you on our team.”

You haven’t signed the contract yet but he’s so earnest, you find yourself saying,

“Thank you for having me. I’m excited to work with you, Mr. Itadori.”

#yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi writes: malevolent enterprise #mimi's notes

[writeradamanteve]

Lockwood & Co Book Thoughts

Can’t believe it’s over. I’ve finished all 5 books and the short story, and wishing there was more.

I can’t even begin to describe how amazing that series was, how perfectly everything in the story fit, and how masterfully handled all the relationships were.

Reader, take a seat as I am about to ramble.

And also, SPOILERS GALORE from this point on.

Lockwood & Lucy

Lockwood and Lucy were fantastic, and truly, to anyone who ever considered their relationship “subtle”, they must have been reading different books. Sure, they didn’t get to snog, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what hadn’t been written. After turning that last page, I know what came next. They are truly, undoubtedly, I’ll-stake-my-mother’s-life-on-it in love. They love one another so much. Lockwood would give his life for Lucy (he truly was GONNA), and Lucy WOULDN’T LET HIM.

It’s not even about the jewelry Lockwood gave Lucy, either, though that is a pretty good indicator, but it’s all the things he says and does. It’s the way he looks at her, turns to her, is vulnerable with her. Lockwood and Lucy almost talk with their eyes. He knows her more than anyone else, simply from his proximity and his observations of her. I can go on and on about his heart eyes and his need for her approval (in this, we know Lucy does the same to him), so

I will.

First of all, Lockwood does consider Lucy attractive. Lucy doesn’t like the way she looks, but that’s just regular self-consciousness, which we all have in spades, no matter how amazing our own better qualities are. Lockwood so easily complimented the way she looked when she got dressed up for the Fittes’ ball. He never criticized the way she looked or dressed, and while he had occasionally mentioned the size of her body, which Lucy’s self-consciousness interpreted as being a criticism, it was never about that with Lockwood. Lockwood’s mention of her body-type has everything to do with what it was capable of, of its strength, even its athleticism. Lockwood absolutely likes how Lucy can brawl with the best of them. Absolutely. He never treated Lucy like a frail flower until he actually saw her bleeding, which is truly a testament to how he respected her physical abilities. He’s a little more careful with her psychic abilities, but that’s a whole different discussion.

The point is, Lockwood always liked the way Lucy looked. She is his type. There were clearly several, more attractive people around them, Holly being the most beautiful of them all, with a really lovely personality, but Lockwood’s eyes NEVER strayed. Never. He took care of Holly, but there wasn’t an indication of Lockwood ever being vulnerable with her as he was with Lucy. We know this because it’s one of the things Holly indicated to Lucy after Lucy’s months-long absence—that she couldn’t crack the boys the way she knew Lucy did, and she was hoping Lucy can give her tips. Lockwood is a caretaker, and he takes care of those who thinks need protecting. When Holly first started, she was rusty on the field and Lockwood knew it. He was their leader and he felt responsible for all of them. He knew Lucy could handle herself and Holly couldn’t. Towards the end of the series, as Holly got more experience on the field, Lockwood looked out for her less. Lucy was always Lockwood’s second on the field. George’s seniority gave him second chair in the agency, but it was Lucy Lockwood depended on when they were fighting side-by-side. He always trusted that she could watch his back.

They were perfect partners on the field. He alludes constantly to how well they work together, how he missed her when she left them for a few months after The Hollow Boy, how she has her own mind, that he is always thinking about her, how he trusts that she would always have his back. That last part always bowls me over, because Lockwood would always tell Lucy to let him go alone, and she never listens, and he just knows she wouldn’t, so ordering her to let him do something alone was almost perfunctory at a certain point. And of course we know that no matter how far Lucy runs away, no matter how forcefully she goes out and does things by herself, Lockwood would ALWAYS follow. He simply wasn’t going to let Lucy go off by herself, getting herself killed.

They complement each other perfectly, with Lockwood’s confidence, style, skill, and balls like dynamite, he is capable of doing the impossible, improbable, and lead armies into battle. And he is strong enough, good enough, to inspire Lucy’s loyalty and cooperation.

Lucy is A FORCE. She gets frightened and is aware of her limitations, but she will power through the fear and self-doubt, she will do what she has to do. She might not be the most graceful about it, but she will get things done. She will enforce. She will barrel through with whatever she can get her hands on—a 4x4, a hammer, a vase, her foot, her entire body, the forces of fucking physics. I pity the fool who dares to hurt Lockwood and George. The ones who dared threaten her other friends—Holly, Kipps, and even Skull. They will know Lucy Carlyle.

And then we get to the groveling, the way he did everything to get Lucy back to Lockwood & Co., back to 35 Portland Row. How after he had managed to talk he back into working with the agency, he kept reminding her how they had such a great partnership. We don’t get to see Lockwood like this until The Creeping Shadow (book 4), but we were treated to it so early on in the Netflix series. This is mainly because Lucy is more bedazzled by Lockwood’s charisma and confidence in the books. Netflix!Lucy is more disillusioned from the get-go from the things she’d already seen and experienced on her own, so it’s only natural that she is quicker on the uptake when she first walks into Portland Row, and how she more swiftly realizes Lockwood’s recklessness as early as the antique shop incident with the Winkmans. In the books, Lucy doesn’t become overly concerned by Lockwood’s tendency to forgo his safety to ensure hers until The Hollow Boy. It featured daily in her anxieties in The Creeping Shadow, and then she accepted it as fact in The Empty Grave, where she did everything she could to prevent him from sacrificing himself for her.

A lot of things happened in The Empty Grave, with the spectacular events of the Problem coming to a head. I don’t think I’ve ever loved a book ending as much as this. But as far as Lucy and Lockwood go, this was amazing.

It starts at The Creeping Shadow, for sure, but in The Empty Grave, Lockwood has stopped pretending that he wouldn’t always turn to Lucy first, that she and he share a special bond. Lucy says so—they are closer than ever. Lockwood takes time alone with her every chance he gets; Lucy seeks Lockwood when she doesn’t see him.

Lockwood was mesmerized by a ghost because it took Lucy’s form (by the way, I WANT TO SEE THIS SCENE IN NETFLIX. From the time Lockwood falls under the La Belle Dame’s spell to Lucy’s death-defying trapeze act to save his life), we know because HOLLY thought she saw Lucy, and we also know from previous male victims that the La Belle Dame’s ghost took the form of whomever her victim most desired. It’s what she did in life, so it’s what she does in death. With women, as was with Lucy, the La Belle Dame tapped into Lucy’s isolation and vulnerability—again, something the La Belle Dame understood when she was alive, as she seemed to take special disregard in the wives of the men she ensnared. Her manifestations between men and women as a ghost reflected how she impacted them in life.

And we all could see at this point how everyone else knew how Lockwood and Lucy felt about each other, probably since book 1, but it was only in The Creeping Shadow that Lockwood actually began to get obviously aware of it.

Jonathan Stroud likes to heavily imply things rather that put it out there. He does it with Flo and George, Holly and her roommate, and most distinctly with Lockwood and Lucy. I bet that if you asked Stroud outright whether Lucy and Lockwood ended up together, he would say, “Short of making them kiss on the page, I don’t think I could have been more obvious.”

Which brings me to the other characters in the books.

George Cubbins (aka George Karim)

George’s value to Lockwood & Co. cannot be overstressed. He is the reason they actually had purpose to everything they did. They could not have defeated any of those ghosts without George, at least not without loss of life. It was George who inspires the most brilliant or/and most outrageous ideas, whether they came from Lockwood, Lucy, or George himself. He is some kind of eccentric Muse to Lockwood & Co.

I confess that my mind’s eye of George goes from Book!George to Netflix!George, depending on what he’s doing in the books as I read about him. When he is eating and inadvertently flashing his butt crack, I definitely imagine him as Book!George. When he is wild with research, teaming up with Flo, and when he got beat up, I am totally imagining Netflix!George.

Lucy is right in saying he was the best of them in the Netflix series. He is their constant, particularly in the books. He is the person they relied on to seek answers and they know that with him around, they would find a way through the seemingly impossible questions, which is why their entire world got upended when George got beat near to death. The fact that he couldn’t even be at the house did a number on them all. They couldn’t make heads or tails of anything without George, and in their helplessness, they did Research the only way they knew how—break into a library, steal Stuff, and blow the entire house down, bodies at their wake. George would never. At least not the exploding part.

In the books, George joined their caper in the Black Library, and he was exceptionally bad at it, getting stuck under a shelf or table of some sort. In the Netflix series, they left him out, and rightfully so. It was not George’s thing to break things in a library, which is all Lucy and Lockwood did in them.

George incites Lockwood and Lucy’s most protective instincts, and when George got hurt, Lockwood and Lucy plotted revenge. They didn’t even argue about it. Lucy was, “I’m going to kill them all! I am SO GOING TO MAKE THEM SUFFER.” And Lockwood was like, “Yes. And. We’re going to steal that book back as we do it. And if we burn everything else down, so be it. Won’t be the first time.” No argument after that. They just agreed to do it like the maniacs they were.

It’s Protect George at All Costs. If anything happens to George, Lucy and Lockwood will burn down the entire world. Everyone knows this because everyone who was in on the plan accepted it as fact.

And Then of Course There’s Skull

I’m going to take a moment to appreciate the sheer skill in which Stroud wrote Skull as a character.

The book is so full of complex characters, but to write someone to be so despicable and yet have all of us rooting for the little fucker is a tremendous feat. And no, Skull is not like the Draco Malfoys and even the Jamie Tartts of fandom.

No. Let me explain.

Draco Malfoy was NOT a likeable character. Not in the slightest. Whatever redeeming qualities he had was plucked and cultivated by fandom. He became complex because the fandom examined Malfoy down to the threads of his expensive robes. It was fandom and fanfic who reshaped Malfoy’s post-HP character.

Jamie Tartt sucked at the beginning of Ted Lasso, but his character DID grow. He became a better person on the show. He redeemed himself like a decent human being, so he IS lovable. He’s pretty amazing and OF COURSE we’re rooting for him now. That’s pretty much the arc they wrote for him.

Skull is different in that he didn’t change one bit. Not a single bit. He was every bit as despicable from beginning to end, and yet his last final appearance in the book, he did save Lucy and Lockwood. Did he feel friendship? Maybe. But it never seemed like he did things for anyone other than himself, even if it looked like it did. Did he really do it for friendship? I think he did it for vanity. He wanted to show Ezekiel and Marissa that he wasn’t weak, that he was stronger than Ezekiel himself. A ghost having feelings seems far-fetched. He was an evil little thing in life and he wasn’t that much different in death, and we will never truly know why Skull saved them in the end, but if there was ever a person who can motivate a ghost to feel something, it would be Lucy.

I laughed when everyone else finally met Skull on the Other Side and they heard him speak. Lockwood immediately asked, “Is that how he always talks to you?” Like, of course Lockwood would be concerned, because Jesus Christ. Skull is just terrible and poor Lucy has to hear it all the time. Lockwood is understandably concerned.

Skull is just awful, and yet we all think he’s Lucy’s bff and some of us even believe Skull wants Lucy all to himself. I personally wanted him to survive that blast. I kept wishing Stroud would leave us with that.

What a fantastic character Skull is. (Why is it that all dudes with his character look like Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer?)

And it’s a little funny that Quill kind of gets him.

Quill Kipps

Where do I begin with this guy. He was a massive prick at the beginning of the series, for sure. He was worse in the books than he was on Netflix, for sure, but I always imagined Netflix!Quill as I read him. He is the Jamie Tartt of Lockwood & Co., the character that showed the most growth.

I was already sold on him because of the show, but I absolutely appreciated him fully in The Hollow Boy, when it became clear to me that all he really wanted was to keep all agents safe, to stop the madness of the Chelsea outbreak because it was costing lives. He just wanted to be useful again, and I can’t tell you how tickled I was by his unbridled enthusiasm when the glasses allowed him to see the ghosts again.

And then he was just part of Lockwood & Co. They call him a consultant, but that’s just a load of bullshit. He is as much Lockwood & Co. as Holly is. When they realized how badly injured he was, the sheer panic of everybody, scrambling desperately for materials that could staunch the bleeding, and finding the means to transport him through a throng of murderous people and ghosts. They can call it whatever they want, but they all, Lockwood included, loved Quill enough to fight for his life.

I was seriously ready to write a rant post if Quill had gotten killed. My relief when he survived was the same as Lucy’s and the same as Lockwood’s (happy enough to hug him and worried enough to ask after him at the hospital).

I don’t think Quill ever lost his edge (aka His knee-jerk skepticism of Lockwood and his exasperation of George’s sagging pants), but he is completely trustworthy and brave.

Speaking of complex characters—

Holly Munro and Lucy Carlyle

I wanted to give Holly her own section, but so much of what I know of Holly stems from her relationship with Lucy.

As a character, I think she is the reason Lockwood & Co. are thriving. She knows exactly how to handle the clients they don’t need and she understands Lockwood’s goals well enough to book the clients that were worth the trouble. And it wasn’t always about the money and fame. Holly had a keen eye, not just for what Lockwood wanted, but also for what Lucy and George might enjoy. She is a true professional, and she is the magical, caring assistant that any organization could hope for.

Orderly, efficient, unafraid of offending important people because she had the looks and the smarts not to offend. The way Lucy described her, petals may as well float to the ground she walks on. Holly was beautiful, smart, classy, and the picture of poise. She could have fallen down a trash chute and she’d be dirty only in the right places. She could be covered in sludge and still look amazing. She cleaned, she catalogued, she was on top of things, and her fashion sense was impeccable. In short, Holly played on every insecurity Lucy had and Holly wasn’t even trying to do any of that.

We only come to find out at the end of The Hollow Boy that Lucy played into Holly’s insecurities, too, and it was Lucy’s own half-assed efforts to act like a mature adult that ended up grating at Holly’s generally sweet disposition.

I can tell that both Holly and Lucy made it work. So much hate is lobbed at Lucy for being thorny and irritable, but they were feeding each other’s contempt. Lucy seems more abrasive about it, but that is truly her way, unrefined by pleasantries and the more particular norms of decorum that tends to be easier for those in Holly’s social class. Lucy’s upbringing was less avocados and quinoa and more potatoes and gravy. Lucy did not have the money or the parental love to know the difference between “critical conversations” and unfiltered honesty, but she did know how to be polite enough, and both she and Holly were mature enough to deal with getting paired off during missions, at least until they decided to have it out at the end of The Hollow Boy.

In spite of all that, Holly and Lucy was keenly aware of the other’s gifts. They knew they had issues and they both did their best to work together, and just when they got to a place where they can be friends, Lucy pulls the rug from under them and leaves. Everyone is convinced it’s about Holly, but of course everyone is wrong.

At the end, Lucy and Holly came to appreciate one another. So much so that Lucy didn’t so much as blink at the suggestion of Holly moving into 35 Portland Row.

I wish there were more books. I wish Netflix would keep making new seasons.

I could not get enough, and I suppose all there is to do now is write fanfic.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co spoilers #lockwood & co spoilers #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #the skull #holly munro #quill kipps #lucy x lockwood #locklye #lockyle