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saetoru · 11 months

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underground fighter wriothesley who absolutely melts whenever you patch him up n place the softest kisses over his bruises n stuff :((

- 🦋 anon

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ WE, NOT I — WRIOTHESLEY.

contents. underground fighter! wriothesley, gn! reader (he gifts you flowers, perfume and a necklace though, so if that is fem! coded to you, there’s your warning), mentions of foster care and being orphaned (wriothesley), mentions of blood, bruises, and injuries (wriothesley), slight angst but overall fluff ending

money’s tight—has been for a while, actually. wriothesley doesn’t like to talk about it, doesn’t like to open up even though he knows you won’t think any less of him. but you notice the small things, always do.

it’s the way you buy groceries for two, the way he’s always over for dinner one way or another, the way he seems to spend more and more time at your place than his. money’s tight, even if he doesn’t like to admit it—and you could never force it out of him, but you think letting him stay with you while he can could help ease the burden of living even if a little.

he’s grateful—a little roundabout in the ways he shows it, but grateful all the same.

and then the presents start to come.

it’s small at first: those expensive macarons you like from that bakery, the bouquet of roses that couldn’t be cheap, a nice dinner he insists he can pay for every once in a while. and then it starts to get bigger: fancy tea from the side of town neither of you even think about shopping at, perfume from a brand you can’t even pronounce, a necklace that’s more than what you can afford yourself.

it starts out slow, and then all at once, wriothesley has what you imagine to be more money than he knows what to do with. because why else spoil you like this? why else blow money on things for you when he could be putting it towards himself?

not everyone gets to have a head start at life—wriothesley is proof of that. it’s hard, more than most people realize, to be orphaned so young and move through foster home after foster home. he’d gone to jail once too—he doesn’t talk about that either, and you never ask. it’s hard, more than anyone gives him credit for, to be knocked down by life so many times and make a living for yourself.

you can’t understand where the sudden change comes from, can’t pinpoint where along the line he started getting so comfortable. it’s not unwelcome, you would never want to watch him just barely scrap by, but it concerns you how he seems to have so much all at once.

and then you get your answer.

“what—what happened to you?” you ask in disbelief, eyeing the blood caked by his nose and around his knuckles. that’s the best of it, unfortunately—the gashes on his chest and the bruises somehow look even worse.

you’d consider him lucky that his ribs don’t seem cracked.

“just a fight,” he shrugs, not meeting your eyes. wriothesley is a lot of things: resourceful, conniving at times, and braver than most. good at lying is not one of them, however—at least not with you. “just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“where were you, then?” you challenge, staring at him hard enough that he doesn’t have to meet your eyes to shuffle uncomfortably in his spot. he doesn’t answer. you’re almost fed up. “wriothesley,” you say in a warning tone.

there’s a sense of finality he doesn’t like.

“what happened to wrio, sweetheart? you’re killin’ me here, i come home to you all bruised up and you’re here beating me down harder—”

“wriothesley, i’m worried about you,” you whisper tiredly. it’s defeated—it’s almost helpless. he frowns, finally looking up at you from his place between your legs as you sit on the bathroom counter.

“you don’t have to be,” he mumbles, “i can take care on my own. i always have.”

“there’s no being on your own when we’re together,” you shake your head. your hands fall to either side of your body, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “don’t you understand? neither of us is supposed to be on our own anymore—not when the other is here.”

“yeah,” he crosses his arms—you try to ignore the wince he lets out as he moves, “and now you’re not handling things on your own anymore. i’m carrying my weight. just need to fight a guy or two.”

“you’re carrying your weight by fighting?” you blink at the realization. he doesn’t look you in your eyes, keeping them trained on the floor again. “oh my god—is that what these are from? because….because you’re fighting some punks in the middle of the night? that’s illegal—and you could get in trouble again—”

he doesn’t seem to like being reminded of his past. that’s clear when he clicks his teeth and glares at you. “and what am i supposed to do, stay cooped up in your place and eat your food?” he asks bitterly, making your brows furrow.

“not necessarily, but you can—”

“what, so i just live paycheck to paycheck and shower at your place and sleep in your bed so my water and electricity bills aren’t too high for the month?”

“wrio—”

“i’m earning, aren’t i? what’s the big deal?”

“the big deal is this,” you wave your hand exasperatedly, tears welling up by the lash line of your eyes as you stare at his bruises with trembling lips, “look at you. it’s not worth it if you come back to me like this.”

“but i come back,” he mumbles, taking your hand—he kisses the knuckles, rubs a rough thumb over the smooth skin before laying your palm against his cheek and sighing. “i always come back.”

you love wriothesley—have since the day you met him, you think. he’s easy to fall for like that, to feel your stomach go in twists and knots every time he makes a sarcastic joke and throws you a charming smile. life has been tough on the man you love, unfairly so. it’s hit him harder and harder and pushed him back to his knees before he ever got a chance to fully stand up.

he’s hitting back, now. maybe in a more literal sense than you’d hoped, but….but maybe you can help him if you can’t change him. maybe you can keep the pieces together until the plaster holds and they’re not so fragile anymore.

“i don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss the broken skin on his cheekbone, “you don’t have to do all this. we were doing okay before that.”

we. he shudders at that. it’s always we and never i—even when you did all the heavy lifting. even when he was barely getting by and you were giving more than you should’ve had to, more than he should’ve needed. it’s always we. never i.

you and him.

“i know,” he melts, humming as your fingers thread into his tousled hair, scratching his scalp as he buries his face into your neck, “just let me save a bit more. and then i’ll do something real with myself. i promise.”

you pull away after a bit, taking in every bruise and every cut, every dry patch of blood and swollen patch of skin. it’s shaky at first, your voice when you finally speak.

“‘s all bruised,” you say quietly, running a finger over the marks littering his chest. he’s painfully still—doesn’t move a muscle as you lean in slowly and press a kiss to the purplish stain on his skin, gently trailing them to the next one, and the next one, and the next one. “you don’t deserve all this.”

“yeah?” he chuckles—its breathy, a little strained. your arms loop around his waist and bring him closer, “what a sweet thing,” he coos, “nobody ever treats me so gentle.”

you frown at that. the world is not gentle with wriothesley—you’ll have to be extra gentle to make up for it.

“you’ll be safe? you’ll pull out when it’s too much, right? and you’ll come back? without being too hurt, right? wrio, you can’t—”

“yeah, yeah, i got it,” he huffs, pressing his forehead to yours, letting your hands cup his cheeks. he leans closer to your touch, shudders as you slowly trace his cheek with your thumb, “just wait at home all pretty for me, yeah? i’ll bring you back something nice.”

“bring me back yourself in once piece,” you huff.

“done,” he smiles, “i’m strong, if you haven’t noticed.”

“yeah? explain this,” you challenge, pressing down on a bruise and making him wince.

“you should see the other guy,” he whines, burying his face back into your neck. you roll your eyes, there’s a scoff in your throat but a smile on your lips.

wriothesley is safe—for now, that’s all you can ask for.

“i love you,” you mumble, “so much. no matter what, okay?”

“no need to get so emotional on me, baby,” he chuckles—and then there’s a tightening of strong arms around your body, a kiss pressed delicately to your neck before a soft, “but i love you too” is murmured into your skin.

“i hope you’re ready to clean those cuts. they’ll sting for sure,” you grumble as you pull away. he grins—handsome, charming, yours.

“will you kiss them better?” he bats his lashes, making you snort.

“no.”

i might make this a reoccurring drabble series too idk yet. anyway you know what else he can beat up ?? this pussy ;)

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #wrio x reader #wrio x you #wrio fluff #wrio angst

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willowrites · 1 month

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𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … you’ve never been eaten out and matt’s never tried…so firsts all around

you and matt had been hanging out in your room for the past hour. you had just gotten home and he decided to stay over for a bit.

you were watching a show that had a tiny sex scene in it.

“it cannot be that good.” your jaw was dropped as the actress was screaming.

matt laughed at your comment. “that guys ego is definitely high if he’s getting a reaction like that.

“yeah, like she’s practically screaming and shouting. although, who am i to judge. i wouldn’t know.” you shrugged. “but i mean if she’s screaming that loud at being eaten out, imagine how good the sex is.”

unfortunately that comment you made had matt fantasizing about how it would be to eat a girl out and it was odd because he saw you as the girl.

he was fidgeting with his shorts as he felt himself harden at his thoughts. he decided to try to ignore it until you asked him an interesting question.

“had a girl ever screamed like that when you had given her head? i’m curious.” you popped a popcorn in your mouth.

he hesitated. “u-uhh, i’ve never really…” he didn’t finish his sentence. you gulped.

“really?” you asked in shock. “sorry, i just…i’d just thought that you have.”

“no..have you ever..you know..” he didn’t want to say anything else.

“ever…” you were waiting for him to ask.

“been eaten out.” he blurted. his boner making things worse.

“oh! um no i haven’t. i’ve like imagined it but nope, never happened to me.” the movie was the least of both of your worries now that you were both thinking of the same topic.

matt couldn’t help but imagine how you’d be in that situation. someone’s head in between your thighs — preferably his head.

“all quiet now.. have i made things awkward.” you pretended to wince.

“oh, no sorry i was just thinking… i kinda wanna know how to. like how to eat a girl out, it’d be good to have some experience i guess.” he confessed.

“uh huh…” you nodded slowly. “maybe…you can practice? on me.”

his eyes widened at your proposal. “you don’t think it would be a little weird?”

“no, im just gonna tell you what feels good and then we’ll both get what we want! given you make me cum, duh.” you laughed.

keep it cool. you thought.

“are you sure?” matt asked again, not wanting for this to be something you’d regret in the near future.

you nodded and that’s how you got to the position in which you were leaned against the headboard waiting for matt to take your underwear off.

“go ahead.” you reassured him as he toyed with your waistband.

“okay.” he whispered pulling your panties down slowly.

the suspense of the situation had you aroused. you were excited but at the same time nervous. you kept telling yourself, he’s your best friend, it’s okay. he won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

your pussy and matt were face to face. he gulped a little intimated because he wanted to be good at it.

“sooo i just, go right in?” he asked pursing his lips.

“i guess so… maybe idk, foreplay? or wait is this considered foreplay?” you asked confused.

“i don’t- im not sure.” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from your center.

“okay, so maybe like use your fingers first?” you knew it was seconds away from being awkward.

as you were about to just say forget it you felt matt’s finger ghost over your leaky hole. he gathered some of your arousal and lathered it over your clit. he then continued to stimulate your clit. your legs bucked up at the sensation.

“am i doing okay?” he whispered, the only thing illuminating his face was the sunset lamp in the corner of your room.

“y-yeah.” you moaned slightly, as he continued to stimulate you. you looked down at him, his fluffy hair and his beautiful eyes. the sight alone had you wanting to just-

your thoughts couldn’t even complete because you felt matt’s hot tongue on you. you let out a deep breath as you leaned back and closed your eyes at the pleasure.

his tongue flicked over your clit as he looked up at you for reassurance that he was making you feel good. while matt was taking his time, his thoughts were elsewhere enjoying the way you tasted. in seconds he was devouring you, addicted to the way you tasted.

he licked a long stripe over your center pulling your thighs toward him. he sucked on your puffy clit. “r-right there. fuck—” your eyes tightly shut.

“you taste so fucking good…” matt muttered against you. he was consuming you. it was as if he lost all control in himself. he couldn’t get enough. “tell me how good i’m doing.”

you nodded quickly. “you’re doing s-so good.” you threaded your hands through his brunette hair. yes you had fantasized about this situation — not with matt specifically but this situation for sure.

matt’s ego boosted as a spurt of whimpers escaped you as he entered his middle finger in you. he pumped it in and out whilst continuing his previous work on your clit. he had been doing so good, you were on the verge of cumming.

matt could tell too — by the way your thighs were starting to close around his head and shake. he didn’t know how he had lived without the taste of you on his tongue. he didn’t ever want to stop. he wanted to do this everyday of his life.

you tried to blurt out the words but you struggled; sensitive to how fast he was flicking your clit. he looked up to see your struggle and grinned against you.

“go on, cum on my tongue. i wanna taste it.” he begged. matt needed to taste you. he enjoyed seeing you writhing underneath him. the way you were struggling to grapple onto reality.

you nodded finally feeling your body seize up as your orgasm washed over you like a big wave. you were tugging on matt’s hair trying to get him away from your sensitive pussy but your orgasm made him want to push you further.

you had begun to feel so sensitive you tried to push his head away as much as you could while whining. “f-fuck — sensitive matt.” you begged and he finally pulled away.

your chest was heaving up and down. you had started to slow your breathing and opened your eyes. matt with your shiny substance drooled and covering his mouth and chin. he had a smug grin on his face symbolizing he was definitely pleased with himself.

“please tell me you’ll let me do that again.” he licked his lips.

you took another deep breath and combed through his hair with your hand. “how could i not?”

#✮⋆˙ 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo au

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girlgenius1111 · 1 month

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casts, broken arms, & snuggles

alexia putellas x reader - part of the mila verse :)

an accident at the park pulls alexia from training and to the hospital, where she finds both her girls not doing their best. everyone is very overwhelmed with their feelings, and maybe don't handle it the way they should. basically, protective panicked alexia and insecure reader. a bit of angst / injuries / concussions symptoms, mostly fluff.

------

You knew Alexia would panic. There wasn’t much you could do about that. Especially not when the only way you had to reach her was through the staff. It was somewhat of a bad omen within the team, having a staff member walk outside with a phone call for you. It only happened in an emergency, and unfortunately, this definitely counted as an emergency. When one of the assistant coaches, Xavi, answered the phone, he seemed to be on the same page as you.

“Try to act calm, otherwise she’ll just freak out.”

“I am not sure there is much I can do to avoid her having a nervous breakdown.” Xavi stated. You heard him call Alexia over, and tried to shush the very upset almost 3 year old in your arms.

“Amor, what is wrong?”Alexia asked, practically tearing the phone out of Xavi’s hand as soon as she heard who was calling.

“Everything is fine, okay? There was just a little accident.” You began, speaking in a soothing, calming tone, the same one you’d been using on the baby.

“What kind of accident?”

“Meels fell at the park-”

“¡AY DIOS MIO!” Alexia shouted. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Ale, breathe. She fell off the slide and I think her arm might be broken. She won’t let me touch it and she hasn’t stopped crying.”

“Broken?!” Alexia squeaked.

“Ow.” Mila whimpered, frowning unhappily at her arm from where she sat in your lap. “Hurts, Mama.”

“I know, baby.” You told her. “Ale, the ambulance is here to take us to the hospital do you-”

“What were you doing? Were you not watching her? Why weren't you watching her, why did she fall?” Alexia snapped.

You bit back the retort you had ready, knowing this was just a result of her fear for Mila. You weren’t happy with what she’d said, but that could be dealt with later. “We’re leaving now for the hospital. Meet us there.” You said coldly, before hanging up the phone without saying anything else. Alright, you were pretty upset, and you let it show. You had already been beating yourself up for what had happened, thinking the things that Alexia had said.

As you and Mila got loaded into the ambulance, you realized you hadn’t mentioned something important to your wife. No doubt, she was hauling ass to the hospital, so she’d find out soon enough.

-------

Alexia burst into the room in a flutter of chaos, throwing the curtain aside and looking around frantically. Mila was sitting in your lap, holding her arm awkwardly away from her body, while you ran your fingers through her wavy brown hair and tried to keep her calm. Both of you looked at Alexia when she walked in, her panic clear on her face. She was sweaty, still in her training kit, and her eyes were only on her daughter.

“Mila, mi bebé,” she said gently, moving closer to the bed.

“Mami!” Mila cried, a pout on her small face, holding her arm out for Alexia to see. She squirmed in your lap, trying to get closer to your wife, but you both made sure she stayed carefully where she was.

“Pobrecita,” Alexia murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing repeated kisses to her baby’s head. She stared hard at Mila’s already swollen arm, trying to stifle her own tears. You weren’t pleased with Alexia, but you weren’t particularly upset that she hadn’t even glanced at you, her attention fully on Mila. “What happened?”

Mila’s voice wobbled as she began to talk, reaching out with her good hand to grip onto a few of Alexia’s fingers.. “Fell! Off the slide. Mama tried to catch me, but now she has an ouchie too.”

Alexia’s eyes flew to you, seeing for the first time the towel and large ice pack pressed to the back of your head. Her heart sank. She knew before that she would have to apologize for what she had said, and now she knew she’d have to do even more groveling. Especially if the hurt look on your face was any indication.

“Amor,” she sighed, reaching for your hand. You pulled it away, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“I’m fine.” You dismissed. “Mila’s got a basic fracture, just a month or so in a cast to fix it. They’ll be in to put it on soon.”

“Mama needs stitches.” Mila whispered conspiratorially to her Mami.

Alexia’s face grew, somehow, even more upset. “What happened, mi amor?”

Still avoiding her eyes, you spoke quietly. “I was going to catch her at the bottom of the slide, but she stood up at the top and fell off the side.”

“And your head?” Alexia asked, leaning closer to try and inspect your injury. Mila looked up at you with concern, her expression matching her Mami’s almost exactly. Where Alexia’s fingers were gentle as they cradled your head, Mila’s were clumsy and clunky as she tried to run her fingers through your hair. It was something you did to make her feel better, and she thought that maybe it would make your frown go away, too.

“I tried to catch her in time, but I slipped and hit my head on the edge of the slide. And I didn’t really catch her.” You admitted, slightly embarrassed at that fact. Alexia would have caught Mila, you were sure.

“It’s okay, Mama, you tried your best!” Mila said encouragingly, parroting back something you and Alexia must have told her a hundred times. Her arm temporarily forgotten, Mila shifted so she could lean up and press a kiss to your cheek, before she snuggled closer to your chest.

Your wife’s eyes were stuck on your daughter, practically turning into hearts as she took in how sweet and caring her baby was. You couldn’t blame her; you felt the same. That you had created such a perfect little person would never cease to amaze you.

“Thank you, my baby.” You mumbled, wincing slightly as you shifted, trying to keep Mila’s arm in a safe position. Every movement of your upper body sent waves of pain through your head, but you didn’t want Mila to know how upset you were.

“Mi amor, I-”

Whatever Alexia was about to say was cut off completely as the doctor entered the room, introducing herself to your wife, and beginning to talk Mila through the process of getting the cast put on. There were some tears, wiped away quickly by her Mami, as they began to wrap up her arm.

Once the nurses had taken over, and began adding the colored plaster to the cast, and Mila was suitably distracted, the doctor regarded you.

“Alright, let’s get that head wound taken care of.” She said kindly, motioning you over to a chair in the corner of the room. She stood by your head, beginning to clean the wound and prepare to stitch it up.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to keep your wincing to a minimum. Alexia watched on worriedly from her spot next to Mila, knowing how much you hated needles. The midfielder so wanted to comfort you through this, but she also didn’t want to leave Mila alone if she was still upset. So, she did what you’d spent many years helping her do, and communicated.

“Milabear? Can I go hold your Mama’s hand while she gets her stitches?” She whispered, heart melting at how Mila looked over at you, and nodded enthusiastically.

“Go help Mama.” She said bravely, feeling much better now that she had her red cast on her arm, and that the nurse had given her some goldfish. Mila munched away happily, her eyes trained on the TV hanging on the wall, and Alexia had never been more grateful for having such an independent and resilient child than she was in that moment.

Your eyes were still shut, a few tears escaping as you tried very hard to act like the adult you were. You startled a bit when Alexia crouched in front of you and took your hand. Opening your eyes, you tried to breathe deeply, feeling the doctor begin to thread the needle through the skin of your scalp. A small, rather pathetic whimper fell from your lips, and Alexia brought your hand to her lips, pressing kisses to the back of it. Her adoring gaze only made more tears fall, and you felt completely ridiculous.

“You are okay, amor. It will be over soon.”

Every tear that fell was gently swiped away by your wife. The doctor worked as carefully as she could, but there were still tugs on your skin that had shivers running down your spine, and your stomach churning. There was only so much Alexia could do to help, but luckily, it wasn’t a very large wound, and the doctor was done within a few minutes, cutting the excess thread and reaching for a white bandage. She wrapped that around your head, holding a piece of gauze in place, which really felt like overkill.

“Okay, done.” The doctor announced, removing her gloves and stepping away from your chair. Alexia’s earlier words forgotten, you stood shakily to your feet, allowing yourself to fall into your wife’s open arms.

“You did so good.” She whispered, smiling despite herself at the bandage wrapped around your head. You looked adorable, frowning up at her with tears in your eyes, looking somewhat like a disgruntled mummy.

“Mama?” Mila called from her spot on the bed.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, plastering a smile on your face as you walked over to your daughter. “Hi Meels.”

“All better, Mama?” She asked, reaching both of her arms out for you to pick her up, which you did easily.

“All better.” You confirmed, holding her as close as you could.

“Almost all better.” The doctor smiled, turning to your wife. “She has a mild concussion with the impact on the ground, so she’s going to need to take it easy for a few days. I am assuming you know concussion protocol, Ms. Putellas?”

“Yes, yes of course.” Alexia said, her eyes squinting with concern as she studied you. “I will take good care of her.”

“Me too!” Mila added, squirming in your hold until she could loop her arms around Alexia’s neck and shift over into her arms.

Your wife very hesitantly pulled you into her as the doctor left the room. You tilted your head to make eye contact with her, still with a small frown on your face. It was clear that you were still upset with your wife, but the determination in her eyes told you she’d do anything to fix it.

------

Apparently, anything consisted of making you sit on the couch next to Mila, holding an ice pack to your head, and not daring to move. Your wife went from room to room, collecting anything she had determined you or Mila might need. It was endearing, but also somewhat frustrating when she’d appear to hand you something, and go flitting off before you could just ask her for what you really wanted: for her to sit on the couch with the two of you, and relax.

Stressed Alexia made you stressed, but you knew this was just how she was coping with what had happened today. Alexia always held a lot of guilt for the little moments she missed while at work; any milestone that Mila achieved while Alexia wasn’t around was downright painful for your wife. She was a protective person, and you knew she was even more bothered because both you and Mila were hurt, and she hadn’t been there to help either of you.

You and Mila sat side by side, heads moving back and forth like you were watching a tennis match. In fact, you were just watching Alexia disappear and reappear with Mila’s favorite toy, a blanket, your favorite sweatshirt, a snack, some water, more ice, more painkillers and 6 different pillows for Mila to rest her cast on. You were exhausted just watching her.

She appeared back in the living room like a ghost the minute you stood up, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders and gently pushing you back down onto the couch.

“Ale, just let me-”

“No! Sit.” Alexia insisted, ignoring the small giggle from her daughter.

You rolled your eyes, shrugging out from under her grip and standing anyway. “Alexia, I have to go to the bathroom. You can’t do that for me.”

Alexia had the decency to blush, at least. “Okay. I’ll walk you there.” She decided, grabbing your hand and beginning to escort you to the bathroom. Honestly.

Always her mother’s shadow, Mila got up too, and grabbed your other hand. “Mami I can-”

“No. Sit!” Alexia repeated, though with a small smile as she regarded her daughter. “Mila, you stay there. I can take care of everything.”

“But Mami-”

“No! I can help Mama, you need to rest.” Your wife said, ignoring the amused look you were giving her, too focused on the attitude suddenly radiating off your daughter.

“Mami. I have to go potty too.” Mila said exasperatedly. Ale blushed further, nodding as she allowed Mila to accompany you both towards the bathroom. You turned your snort of laughter into a fake cough, knowing that Alexia could be sensitive to being teased about her over protectiveness. And, well… it seemed Mila was holding her own in showing her Mami how ridiculous she was being.

Once you’d arrived at the bathroom door, which took significantly longer than was necessary due to your wife and her mini-me insisting on walking slowly so as to not aggravate your head wound. You indulged them, only putting your foot down when both of them began to follow you into the bathroom.

“No. Enough. I can do this myself.” You sighed, looking between both Alexia and Mila’s skeptical expressions.

“But what if-”

“Mama, I can-”

You interrupted both of them by shutting the door and letting out a deep sigh. If you didn’t have a scar across your abdomen that told you that you’d birthed Mila, you’d be sure she was Alexia’s genetic clone.

------

The rest of the night consisted of overwhelming amounts of hovering, from your wife and daughter both. Alexia took turns fussing over you, and fussing over Mila, until you were sure you were going to make her sleep on the couch or something, before she suggested waking you up every 20 minutes and performing a cognitive test.

Alexia had just barely put Mila down in her toddler bed when she heard you call for her. There was urgency in your voice, but it was still obvious that you were trying to keep your voice down for Mila’s benefit. It had been hard enough to get the toddler to sleep; she had become suddenly very tearful once it was time for bed, because her favorite pajama shirt didn’t fit over her cast. It had taken one of Alexia’s t-shirts, around 45 minutes of cuddles, and 4 different stories, for her to finally settle.

“Alexia,” you whisper yelled, shutting your eyes as the dizziness got worse. You heard Alexia rush down the hall towards you and willed yourself to hold on just a moment longer.

Alexia ran into the room, seeing you with your head in your hands, sitting up in the bed. “What is it, amor?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” you managed, pressing a hand to your mouth as Alexia sprung into action.

“Okay, okay, just hold on one second.”

Just in time, Alexia thrust the bedroom trash can in front of you. You were sick, retching into the trash can uncomfortably. Your wife pulled your hair back, being careful to not jostle the skin around your stitches, tying it into a very loose bun. She rubbed your back soothingly, pressing kisses into the side of your head until you were done.

“Oh, amor, I am so sorry.” She murmured, taking the trash can from you once you were done. She was going to take it out of the room, but then she noticed the tears in your eyes, and decided that could wait until later.

You curled into her when she sat by your legs and pulled you into her arms. Within a second, you were sobbing brokenly into her shirt, incapable of resisting how comforted you felt when she held you.

Alexia whispered soft reassurances into your hair, beginning to think you were upset about more than just feeling so unwell. “Amor, is it your head? Or something else?”

You shook your head weakly into her chest, sucking in a few breaths before you tried to respond. “Meels broke her arm and it’s all my fault.” You said miserably.

“No no no, do not say that. It was not your fault, you did the best you could.” Alexia rushed to make you feel better, but that’s all it felt like; something she was saying just to make you feel better.

“You would have caught her.”

Alexia’s chest squeezed uncomfortably, knowing that she was partially at fault for how guilty you felt right now. Even if what she’d said had been in the heat of the moment, and it was just a reflection of how upset she was, of course you’d taken it to heart.

“It was an accident, mi amor. It is no one’s fault. Sometimes kids fall, sometimes they get hurt. It happens.”

“But Ale, it wouldn’t have happened if you had been with her. You’re just… so much better at this than I am.” You mumbled, refusing to untuck your face from Alexia’s shirt, even as she tried to get you to.

“That is so not true.” Alexia insisted. “You cracked your head open trying to make sure Mila didn’t get hurt. That is not something a bad mother does.”

You ignored her logic, wiping a tear away with that back of your hand. “You were right earlier. I should have been watching closer.”

Alexia shook her head again. “No. I was-“

“You blamed me then, what’s changed?” You snapped, not quite sure where all of these negative emotions were coming from, or why your mood was changing at the drop of a hat. Sad and guilty one second, angry the next. It wasn’t fair to Alexia, who was just trying to make you feel better, but there wasn’t any room for rationality in your jumbled head.

Luckily, your wife didn’t seem to take your words or your tone personally. Instead, she tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear and softly kissed your forehead, showing more patience than you were sure you deserved.

“I don’t blame you. I was terrified earlier, but that is no excuse. This was not your fault and I’m sorry I made you feel like it was. So sorry, amor.” Her voice was sweet and you could feel how sincere she was, just from the way her hand gently cradled your cheek.

Nodding shakily, you took a deep breath, suddenly feeling more than a little exhausted. “I’m sorry, Ale, I just-”

Alexia cut you off, though, placing her index finger over your lips. She looked stern again, like she had before when she was making sure you stayed on the couch and didn’t move. “It’s okay. No apologies. You are overwhelmed and hurt and exhausted. You need rest, we can talk about this more tomorrow if we need to.”

You nodded your agreement, shifting uncomfortably as you glared down at your pillows. Your head absolutely throbbed, and you hadn’t even tried to rest it on the pillow yet.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep.” You mumbled, brow furrowing in confusion when Alexia smiled cheekily at you.

“I do!” She said enthusiastically, quickly tucking herself under the covers and pulling you to lay on her chest. Your head was completely safe from any contact with anything, and you found so much peace in the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear.

She was a miracle worker, Alexia. Just when you thought you were going to explode with the amount of thoughts swirling around in your head, she quieted your brain with a few words and a few kisses.

Unfortunately, as comfortable as you were, sleep did not seem to be in the cards for either of you. At least, not yet. No sooner than your eyes had fallen shut, and Alexia had settled comfortably into the pillows did you both hear the creak of Mila’s door opening.

You exchanged a glance with your wife, keeping completely silent, knowing that sometimes Mila would come check on you both during the night, before heading back to her room. You heard her little steps padding down the hall, a small gasp, and then a loud thump.

Alexia was out of bed before Mila could even cry out. “Stay there!” She threw over her shoulder, causing you to sit back down on the bed with a grumble. You were glad Alexia hadn’t turned the light off earlier, as she sprinted carelessly out of the room towards your daughter.

“Mama!” Mila sobbed, her little voice breaking your heart. She wanted you, and it took everything in you to not go to her in that moment, knowing that Alexia would bring her to you.

“It’s okay, cariño, I’m here.” Alexia soothed, Mila’s cries becoming muffled by her Mami’s shirt.

Still, you could make out her next words very clearly. “I want Mama,” Mila demanded.

Alexia just shushed her, a few seconds passing before they both appeared in the doorway. Mila’s face was red and stained with tears, her cast cradled to her chest. She reached for you as soon as she saw you, and Alexia wasted no time in bringing her over.

“Careful, Milabear,” she reminded softly, handing the toddler over to you. Mila curled up against your chest, and you rubbed her back soothingly, exchanging a worried glance with your wife.

Mila was a rough and tumble kid; she fell often, and really only cried if she was actually hurt. Sometimes, not even then. She was like her Mami in that way, so her inconsolable tears now terrified you.

“I think she tripped over my shirt.” Alexia murmured, running her hands through her daughter’s hair. Dressed in one of Alexia’s old warm up shirts, Mila surely had tripped over the hem of it. You could see this information really sinking into your wife’s head, as she began to gnaw on her bottom lip, worry and guilt clouding her face.

“Baby, did you trip?” You asked, easing Mila away from your body so you could get a good look at her face. She nodded, looking between you and your wife, her bottom lip jutting out adorably.

“Woke up and my arm hurt, and I wanted to sleep in here but I couldn’t see and I fell.” Mila said. “Mama’s shirt is too big.” She continued forlornly, as if just now realizing this piece of information.

Alexia looked truly distressed, opening her mouth to apologize for allowing Mila to sleep in her shirt, even though you knew the toddler had cried and cried until Alexia had finally given in to what she wanted, if only so she could sleep. You spoke before Alexia could, though, pushing a lock of hair out of your baby’s face.

“Did you bump your arm when you fell?” You asked. Mila nodded, sniffling sadly. “Does it hurt a lot more or just a little bit more?”

“A lot at first. Just a little bit now.” Mila said bravely, peeking at her Mami out of the corner of her eye. She loved to act tough, your little girl, but she was only three, and broken bones hurt.

Alexia still hovered on your side of the bed, looking like she wanted to cry.

“Alright, Mami will go get you some ice, and you can sleep in here with us tonight. Deal?”

Mila nodded, flopping forward again to rest on your chest. The fact that her mood didn’t even really lift when you told her she could sleep with the two of you told you that she was really hurting.

Without a word, only a soft kiss placed on Mila’s forehead, Alexia headed for the freezer. She walked calmly out of the room, but both you and Mila heard the unmistakable sound of her running her way to the kitchen, and running back.

“Mami’s running.” Mila said, a small smile adorning her face. You laughed quietly, doing your best to keep your smile in check as Alexia slowed to a walk just before walking through the bedroom door, acting as though she’d walked the whole way.

The blonde had returned with the biggest ice pack you had, the one that she’d used on her knee. She wrapped it meticulously around Mila’s arm, handed her a small sippy cup [of what looked suspiciously like juice, even though Mila was only supposed to have water this late at night], and some children’s pain medicine.

It was only when Alexia slipped back into bed that she spoke, addressing her daughter with a deep sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry about your shirt, cariño, I shouldn’t have let you wear it.”

Mila gave her a strange look, scooting out of your lap to lay directly on top of your wife. Her little fingers grabbed onto her Mami’s shirt, even the one’s restrained by her cast twisting into the fabric. “It’s okay, Mami. Was an accident.”

You smiled at your girls, watching Alexia’s face melt from guilt into adoration as she leaned down to kiss all over Mila’s face. Your daughter giggled, and your heart soared at the sound, more than happy that she had stopped crying and cheered up.

Mila settled back down against her Mami, reaching one hand out to latch onto your shirt and attempt to pull you closer. “Mama, closer.” She complained, huffing when you didn’t budge.

Alexia frowned, worried you would put yourself into an uncomfortable position with your head in order to make Mila happy, but luckily, your daughter seemed to have the same thought.

“Not on your back Mama! You gotta lay on your front. Here, lay on Mami.” Mila offered, whacking Alexia in the face with her cast as she struggled to move over. You snorted at the disgruntled look on your wife’s face, ignoring the fake glare she sent back your way.

It took some maneuvering from everyone involved before Mila was curled up against one side of Alexia’s chest, and you were resting with your cheek pressed into on the other side. Only once you and Mila were both comfy did Alexia kiss Mila on the forehead, and you chastly on the lips.

And it was only when Mila had drifted off, soft puffs of air leaving her as she gripped onto both you and your wife, that you relaxed. Alexia gave you a knowing smile, well aware that your daughter's insistence that you hold her when she’d gotten hurt, and that you be included in the bedtime snuggles, had put to rest your worries that you’d failed her today.

It all evened out, in parenthood. You couldn’t forget that. Tomorrow, when Alexia would turn away for a split second too long during breakfast and Mila would end up with syrup in her hair, you’d be even more sure of that. Mistakes didn’t change how much you or Alexia loved Mila, or how much she loved both of you.

Mila didn’t keep score. She just loved you both, and that was that.

-----

this has been in my drafts for genuienly several months so i apologize if it doesn't feel very cohesive. hope you enjoy anyway 🙂🫶🏻 thanks for reading 🫡🥰

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

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moyazaika · 10 days

Text

squeaky clean; yandere. non/dub-con. heavily implied nsfw. mdni.

“i’m sorry– m’sorry, please! swear i won’t–!” your thighs ache, pressed painfully against the edge of the bathtub, held in place by cold, firm hands that refuse to relent, despite your very best efforts. “i won’t do it again. promise.”

“oh, yeah?” you feel the tug of his lips; a cruel smile against your bare shoulders, which shake with sobs that wrack your whole body. he can feel them, you know he can. he’s got your back pressed right up against his chest; he just doesn’t care. “how sorry are you, baby?”

“very very sorry, i swear!” with wide teary eyes, you turn to face the apathetic man behind you. he only looks down at you levelly, appraisal in those eyes, crinkled with amusement despite the facsimile of a loving, if not remorseful, boyfriend’s expression on his features–when he is anything but.

not loving. not remorseful. and certainly, if the way he keeps you all locked up and confined to the halls of his home serves as any indication of how little your opinion of his unwanted, unrequited affection matters; not your boyfriend.

and yet, you bend over backwards in an attempt to keep him satisfied. how unfortunate it is that all your efforts were undone by a single moment of carelessness; the cathartic release of a convoluted, complicated rage; hard work and pandering and pliant disposition rendered void by a few stupid tumbling past your lips before you could stop to just fucking think.

but you don’t voice any of that to him. it’s not what he would want or care to hear. “i didn’t mean to–to be so rude. please, please, please don’t make me do this…”

a noncommittal hum; “you can do better than that, surely.”

“i’ll never do it again–promise, promise i won’t.” your pleas inevitably fall on deaf ears, breathy voice echoing within the vast, bleak bathroom you’ve ended up in; awaiting the punishment your captor intends to dole out, begging in a lovely little futile attempt for a compassion that the both of you know he does not possess. “i didn’t mean to, i swear! m’so sorry, i’ll be good from now on. i-i love you. i love you.”

lithe fingers dig into your jaw almost painfully, as he kisses his teeth in mock sympathy. “oh, baby. you poor thing, i know you're sorry.”

hope, unfurling in your chest as you allow yourself to let out a relieved sob, mercy—

“but it’s just no good now, is it?”

you freeze, rooted to the spot. your heart physically drops; a weight that sits low in your belly, alongside the fear of how he’s going to make you pay for your mistake.

“should’ve thoughta that before ‘ya called me ‘psychopathic bastard' you wish would 'do the world a favour by dying.'” he recites your words gleefully, a light and playful tone that contrats his far more forceful hand, as he angles your face forward; the hand that was at the back of your thighs reaching out, muscles taut, you realise–terrified all over again, with restraint. “but no matter. we can fix that.”

you shake your head, curl away from the soap; and right back up against his hard chest. “please don’t”

“hush now, sweet thing. i’ll show you what happens next time you run your little mouth like that later. first,” he reaches for the silky pink bar of soap that rests on the bath caddy, and you hear the sound of mellifluous laughter, low in the back of his throat. “let’s wash that dirty mouth of yours out with some soap.”

“i’m sorry.” it’s a pathetic, useless apology that carries no weight. you know it as much as he does, and yet, you're still a mess of nerves before him, "i love you."

“you weren’t so sorry and sweet when you told me to go ‘suck a dick.’” he grins cruelly. “now how ‘bout you quit whining and get some of these suds in your mouth, so you can think twice next time ‘bout tellin’ me what to put in mine.”

and you've always been good; so why should this time be any different?

it's the oddest thing, though; even after the mortifying ordeal, the overwhelming aftertaste of the soap doesn't make you feel cleaner, so much as it makes you feel dirtier than before.

even more so than when he will place something far less sweeter against your lips hours later, repeating your own words back to you whilst you look up at him helplessly through long lashes, weighed down by your tears.

"'ts not there to stare at, baby. you wanna prove just how sorry you are?" he runs a hand through your hair when you only nod in response; words failing you, mouth squeaky-clean. "good. you've already shown me what a dirty mouth you have today..."

"now," he mockingly taps the side of your face with a single finger, looking down at you a pleased little smile that has lingered on his lips since his fingers were in your mouth, hours ago, forcing the bar of soap onto your tongue. "let's see you put it to work."

#idk which demon possessed me to write this tbh but i need this man carnally i think #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere oc #yandere #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #yandere fic #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc

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coco-loco-nut · 3 months

Text

Broken Bones

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: George gets in a wreck and you happen to be the surgeon on-call.

a/n: i loved this prompt, i hope you love it ❤️

masterlist

————————

George was enjoying his home race, he was holding P3 with a comfortable lead due to some great defending earlier in the race. Unfortunately for him, mother nature decided to put her hand into the race and have a pop up rain shower come through.

“It should clear through shortly, let’s keep with the softs,” his engineer says, hoping to outsmart those pitting for inters. George says a quick response and continues focusing on the track, especially the dry line. With the rain pouring, he catches a wet line in turn 4, sending the car spinning and into a barrier.

You rush down a couple floors to where you have been paged. Being the only orthopedic trauma surgeon in the hospital and on-call, you have to make haste.

“Is there really no one else to take this?” you ask, looking at the chart that has initial images and the patient information.

“Big fan?” the nurse beside you asks as you mentally plan the procedure. Most of Britain is basically a fan of the racing driver.

“Yeah. It’s not ethical, but I took an oath,” you tightly smile, beginning the process of scrubbing in.

“You are a great surgeon, you will have no problem keeping the fan part of you out of your mind,” the nurse reassures you. You take a couple deep breaths before heading to surgery.

The procedure goes well, you repair the broken wrist and fix the damage as best you can. Of course, time will finish healing it, but you do your best.

Afterwards you scrub out, finish paperwork, and go home. You won’t need to check in until anesthesia wears off, and that can take a while. You return later in the day, dressed in business casual and your lab coat.

“Mr. Russell, how are you feeling?” you ask, needing to check on your work. You close the door behind you when you enter the room.

“You are so pretty,” George says, still a little out of it.

“Thank you. Mind if I check your arm?” you ignore your blush.

“You look like my wife. She’s a doctor too, soooo pretty,” George babbles.

“I know, love, let me see your arm,” you say gently, sitting beside him.

“What happened?” George asks with a confused look.

“You spun out and crashed into a barrier. It was raining, you were on slicks, and caught a wet line,” you explain, carefully examining the surgical site, removing the splint immobilizing the wrist.

“I know that much. Injuries?” he asks, eyes trained on your wound examination.

“Broken wrist. We are going to brace it rather than cast it,” you check his chart for other injuries noted.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, I love you,” George says, moving his non-injured hand to grab yours.

“I love you too, Georgie,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his hand as he processes everything. You note things in his chart, making sure your observations and updates are written down.

“I’m glad you did my surgery, I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” he smiles, you can’t help but smile back. It’s not illegal, but it certainly is borderline unethical to treat your husband.

“I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t I go and see if your family is out in the waiting room?”you hum, needing to stay inconspicuous. Of course, those close to you know who your husband is, but since you don’t share his last name it isn’t obvious.

“One kiss before you leave,” George pouts and you hesitate. “Please, I was just in a crash and your kisses make me feel better,” he pouts. You playfully roll your eyes and lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you, I’ll be right back,” you reassure him. You find his family and Toto waiting outside in the waiting room.

“Family of Mr. Russell,” you say, calling them to you.

“Y/n, dear, did you do his surgery?” George’s mom asks, a little hopeful.

“I did, I was the only one here and on call. Thankfully nothing too major, he can probably get back into a car in a month if we rehab him correctly. Want to see him?” you ask, knowing the answer. You lead them to his room, but stop Toto before he walks in.

“Y/n-“ Toto starts but you don’t hesitate to cut him off.

“You got very lucky that the broken wrist was the worst of it. Keeping him out on slicks? Are you stupid, a win is not worth more than a life,” you fume.

“I know, I gave his engineers and strategists a talking to. I just wanted to check in on him, but knowing he is in your care is all I needed. I check in tomorrow then,” Toto stays calm, knowing you had to since George was brought in and you needed to yell at someone.

“I, um, thank you. He should only be here another day for observation. I’ll keep you updated,” you recompose yourself and watch as Toto leaves.

“She’s just the best doctor ever. So pretty too, and smart, and really good at surgery,” you overhear George tell his parents, he likely just got another dose of pain meds.

“Thank you, Georgie. You are a pretty good patient,” you smile from the doorway.

“Can you believe that doctor loves me? And she married me?” George asks his mom who laughs.

“You chose a wonderful wife. Why don’t you let her get back to work?” his mom asks, catching your amused gaze.

“Yes, I have another surgery scheduled. I will check on you in a few hours,” you walk over to your husband, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you so much, I want to have babies with you,” George blurts, causing your face to flame bright red.

“Okay, let’s talk about that later,” you awkwardly say, stepping out of the room.

You are quick to return after your scheduled surgery. You know the nurses rotations and know that they won’t check in for another hour.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” George grins as you walk in. “You look so sexy post-surgery,” he eyes you up.

“Really? I don’t feel like it,” you slide onto the bed beside him, careful to avoid hurting him. You relax in silence for a minute before you address the feeling eating at the pit of your stomach. “Please try not to crash again. I know it’s unavoidable, but the feeling I got when I saw your name and didn’t know how serious the crash was. It… I don’t think I can describe the panic,” you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on the sound of his heartbeat under you. The cool hospital air is a stark contrast to his warmth.

“I’m sorry, it’s the one part of racing I hate too,” George is unsure how to respond. He looks at the blank hospital wall, as if it’ll give him the answer. “I’ll always come home to you, and I have a badass surgeon to take care of me,” he laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can only do so much, like brain surgery? You are on your own,” you grin, happy to let the vibe change.

“You could do it, you can do anything,” George says, he always gets gushy when he’s tired.

“Okay, baby, you should get some sleep. I’ll go home and get you clothes. I will be back tomorrow morning to check on you,” you yawn, also needing sleep. George knows you can’t stay in the room too long, and he wouldn’t want you to stay up in an uncomfortable chair.

“I love you. Drive safe,” he mumbles, tiredness washing over him in waves. You fix his sheets and make sure he is okay before kissing him goodnight and leaving. It feels weird, to go home and not have him there. You burn the rest of your anxious energy by reaching out to some good physical therapists that you know to help with George’s recovery.

Under your watchful eye, he makes a recovery similar to Lance’s, even with you fussing the first few races post-injury. You framed one of his x-rays. George had to listen to you talk about how beautiful it was, you claimed it to be your best work. It allows for a good story when having friends over, and it reminds George to not let it happen again.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell #george russell imagines #george russell x reader #george russell imagine

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danhoneyyysblog · 4 months

Note

hi! can i request for wuthering waves male characters, can it also be yandere with headcanons? want to see how you would view them as yanderes! if so, thanks!

author note: finally, my first request! of course i can! if you don’t mind, i’ll do three characters — Male! Rover, Jiyan and Scar! hope you’re okay with those.

MALE WUWA (WUTHERING WAVES) HEADCANONS, AS YANDERES!

➵ CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS: MALE! ROVER, JIYAN, AND SCAR!

➵ WARNING, MAY CONTAIN: lowercase intended, may be slight ooc — as game recently released, simple information on each character. if you don’t enjoy ooc, don’t suggest! pet names mentioned (loved one, darling, love), mentions of obsession (Jiyan), mentions of possession (Male! Fover, Jiyan), mentions of overprotectiveness (Male! Rover, Jiyan), mentions of manipulation (Scar), mentions of sadistic behaviour (Scar), mentions of delusional behaviour (Scar).

MALE! ROVER:

➵ of all honesty, his was terribly difficult to think about, but with enough work from how he acts. i believe he would fall beneath possessiveness and overprotectiveness.

➵ you see, with possessiveness, i believe he would most certainly prefer if his loved one would dependent on him. of course, as shown throughout the story, there was times Scar is trying to convince him to join him as he is a ‘black sheep’. huh? what’s that? you want to join Scar? not on his watch. if he joins, so will you. if he doesn’t join, you won’t either. don’t be surprised if he finds a way to get you dependent on him.

➵ with overprotectiveness, i think that is WAY TOO OBVIOUS! if you were simply his peer, he would be the average level of protective, but… unfortunately for you, you’re his darling, you are the one breaking his overprotective meter! what do you know, you’re suddenly captured! he is running to save you! he has to be your shining knight in armour. if he isn’t, then who will be?!

JIYAN:

➵ okay, hear me out on this: he would DEFINITELY be obsessive, possessive AND overprotective.

➵ with obsessiveness, he would be fixated on you. like… if he was with the Midnight Rangers, he would think to himself: ‘i wonder how they’re doing’, ‘i hope nothing severe is happening to them’ which eventually shift into… ‘i haven’t retrieved a letter in approximately days. are they upset?’, ‘they are definitely pissed. what should i owe them? my kisses, hugs, cuddles? no… they need something more. my heart, my soul… would they be happy if they got that?’. all of that overthinking could led into him losing sleep, which is rarely given to him due to the amount of work they have to do at night. nobody would even tell what’s going on in his head with that casual stoic expression of his!

➵ for possessiveness, listen to me on this: you know how dragons are possessive of their treasure? exactly. you don’t need to rely on family, friends or any of those people, he could insist you — he gains money for doing his work. what do you want, love? new clothes? more food? a bigger house? anything you want, he can do his best to make it possible! just rely on him, darling! and no… if you asked him to go away, he would most likely not do that.

➵ as for overprotectiveness, it somewhat follows the obsessiveness and possessiveness. if there was a day you managed to convince him you wanted to take a walk further than you usually do, he’ll accept, in one condition: he follows along. he’ll literally glare at anything he believes is a threat towards you, whether it is an ordinary person passing by, a tacet discord, even an animal as simple and small as a bunny! sometimes, people who roam by worry over you. it looks like you’re being held hostage, which you literally are! also, another thing, if you want to join the Midnight Rangers, it is going to take WAY LONGER than it’s supposed to. he will literally find every possible way to deny, you need to be bribing him to let you at one point… ‘i’ll give you more kisses than usual, on the lips, too.’, ‘that won’t work on me, (reader).’, ‘how about we cuddle for two hours instead of one?’, ‘still won’t work’. despite wanting to do it so badly due to the fact it was coming from you! thankfully, you found a way to make it work, but with extreme supervision from Jiyan…

SCAR:

➵ MANIPULATIVE, SADISTIC, AND DELUSIONAL. I REPEAT: DELUSIONALLL!!! i said that with no hesitation. i am so sorry…

➵ with no hesitation, he would most likely manipulate you. what’s that he hears? you’re already in a relationship? too bad, there are two options: 1. he manipulates you into thinking your lover is a bad person, forcing you to leave them. 2. they are going to get burnt alive. to make stuff fun for him, in front of you! it’s safer to go with option 1… even if you are in a relationship with him, doesn’t mean you’re safe. you want to leave?! what do you know! he is literally using your secrets, weakness, fears, all of that against you! literally stay with this man, for the sake of you…

➵ no doubt on this one, since he basically emotionally manipulates you. he probably enjoys when you get all scared, begging him not to admit all of the stuff you fear coming out. trust me… even if you make a run for it, this man is literally going to hunt you down. may as well tackle you onto the ground, throw you over his shoulder and laugh while you’re screaming, crying, punching, kicking. believe me on this, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

➵ HERE IS WHERE THE DELUSIONAL KING COMES OUT. tying all of the manipulation and sadistic behaviour together. he, most definitely, most certainly, believes you’re acting that way to purposely become hard to get. if you’re doing something for him out of kindness, which may be rare due to how much of a crazy guy he is, he’ll definitely think it’s out of love. if you say you’re not in love with him, or anything that comes out rude, he’ll think they are lies or that you’re simply shy — bringing back the fact he believes you’re playing hard to get.

author note: i apologize if this doesn’t suit as realistic to the characters. as known, it’s nearly been a week since the game released and the more that comes out, the more we’ll learn about them. i’ll re-do this in the future, maybe with more characters? you never know!

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paperbackribs · 5 months

Text

tags: steddie, pre-canon, season S2-ish, tommy hagan will always have a crush on Steve Harrington

🩵💥🩵

“Someday, you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it,” Steve hears the echo of his words in the Hawkins High boys’ bathroom. Spinning off the tiles, pinging against its corners and stabbing at Tommy who stands gasping at his best friend.

But Steve doesn’t care. This has been a long time coming.

Tommy is a prick and Steve thought there wasn’t anything wrong with going with the flow, ignoring the snide comments, looking away from the rumours that Carol would spread, as long as his friends remained by his side.

But Billy Hargrove had infected Hawkins High. Steve stopped swallowing the cool aid. And Tommy is fuming; red in the face and ready to take it out on any unfortunate soul that crosses his path.

Enter Steve.

Or, really, enter Eddie Munson.

Steve wasn’t sure if Tommy followed Eddie into the empty toilets or coincidentally came across him or whatever could be going on in the mixed up mind of his former best friend. But watching Tommy square off his stocky, muscular body against the other boy, boxed into the corner and wide, brown eyes only visible over Tommy’s shoulder, Steve swears that he’ll no longer look away from Tommy’s indiscretions.

So, he says it again, nodding to the leather clad boy in the corner, “Eddie’s going to take a swing at you and not only will I not defend you, I might even fucking taking a swing too.”

Tommy gapes, “What the fuck, Steve? I know we’ve been having troubles, but you’d take the freak’s side over mine?”

Eddie’s face twists in the background. Steve can see the anger warping his eyes and he doesn’t blame him, almost wishes that Eddie would take a swing and then Steve could just stand back and let it happen.

He sighs: he’s allowed a lot of things to just happen so far and it’s not to his credit.

Weirdly, Steve's resigned gaze meets Eddie’s incredulous look and, just for a moment, Steve feels like he’s met someone who gets it. Someone who sees the ridiculous, short-sighted nature of the petty bullying in the hallways of their high school and knows how stupid and utterly pathetic it is.

Steve swears that the corner of Eddie’s lips kick up at the irony of their shared understanding but is distracted as Tommy strides forward, knocking against his shoulder hard enough to send Steve spinning against the wood of a stall. He steadies himself as Tommy slams the bathroom door shut behind him with a clamorous bang and shakes his head: how could he have had such loyalty for a guy who won’t even stop to talk out their stupid shit together?

Steve thought he’d at least earned Tommy’s patience, a moment of Tommy’s time so they could talk this out and find a way forward again. He stares after his former friend, a hollow, gaping hole in his stomach as he grieves the friendship he thought they’d shared.

Eddie approaches with a gentle hand, laying it on Steve’s shoulder, “Are you all right, man?”

Steve swallows around the thickness in his chest and belatedly realises that his cheeks are wet. He clears his throat and, through a tight smile, says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

The deep richness of those brown eyes regard him for a long moment and Steve feels stripped bare. He thought he was the guy rescuing Eddie, but he suddenly feels like the one vulnerable and exposed to the other boy.

Eddie smiles softly, “Yeah, got saved, right? How could I be anything but peachy keen?”

Steve snorts despite himself, amused by Eddie’s tongue-in-cheek tone, “Like a summertime in Georgia.” He can’t help but flash to Tommy’s retreating back and hates that his tone is already bitter, “Except I’m the stupid fucking tree alone in the grove.”

His head twitching slightly to the side, as if he were weighing Steve’s words, Eddie lightly responds, “Well, maybe it’s time to try another field. Wanna hang out sometime?”

Steve blinks, bewildered at the offer. The suggestion given so freely and without conditions seems anathema to his experience of friendship, and especially friendship in the complex halls of high school. He eyes the other boy suspiciously, but Eddie’s eyes remain clear, his body loose and almost curled towards Steve as if he were the north to his compass.

What could it hurt? Steve thinks.

Looking at what he can only describe as kindness in Eddie’s eyes, Steve thinks that a lot of things could hurt. Could burn or scald or stab, but the sweet, clear acceptance in Eddie Munson’s eyes has him thinking of a world where Steve can offer his loyalty and receive it in kind. A place where he can be good and feel like he’s doing good and perhaps a lovely brown-eyed boy would wait and tell him he’d done the right thing.

Eddie sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship that only bolsters the words he’d already extended to Steve. And nothing moves in the cold room of Hawkins boys’ bathroom, no wind or breeze, but as Steve reaches out to clasp Eddie Munson’s outstretched hand, he feels a seismic shift that he can’t explain.

Steve’s fingers fold around the warmth of Eddie’s palm and Eddie’s full lips stretch into a smile, welcoming and true. A gesture that Steve can’t be sure of, can’t let himself fully trust; yet, nonetheless, Steve finds himself hopelessly following after Eddie’s extension of friendship.

And it'll eventually allow Steve to follow him to the confusing halls of the Hellfire Club.

To the strangely welcome space of Eddie's uncle’s trailer.

And Steve follows.

Because he is helpless but to follow this wide, brown-eyed boy who smirks at him with a knowing smile.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #paperbackribs writing

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w3irdo666 · 8 months

Note

Hi! I wasn't sure if you were accepting requests at the moment

but can I get (romantic) Alastor x Lucifer's ex Seraphim Angel wife who he left plz?

S/o eventually left Heaven and still got to keep their wings and powers before it got taken. They meet him around the time he got to Hell and they hit it off

Anything else is up to you if you'd like

Oh, interesting idea!! I'll try my best, love youuu!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

The Drug In Me Is You

Alastor x Fem!reader x ex!Lucifer

Letter count:

Tags: slightly angst, sfw, slightly possesive behaviour, depression.

Notes: I hope i understood you right!!! Enjoy!!

Lucifer was a wonderful husband.. Constantly enveloped you in love. It seemed to you that you could not dream of anything more. Romantic dates, beautiful clothes, oh, you thought that you would drown in his care.... Which is what happened. Lucifer was undoubtedly magnificent a man...But not a great husband...When you got married, your joy knew no bounds...but...

A year later, you began to notice that he began to pay less attention to you. In the evening, he no longer went to you to cuddle in bed, but just turned his back to you and fell asleep.When you wanted to hug him, threw your hand away and answered annoyed, “Leave me alone.”

One day you were walking through a magnificent garden in paradise. The beauty of nature has always delighted you. Oh, these magnificent scarlet roses.. They look so fragile that it seems that if you touch them, they will fall into small pieces... Birds sang and flew in the sky .Everything was so wonderful, you even forgot about your husband for a while...But suddenly you heard someone’s voice. Your wings trembled slightly, not expecting that someone would be there. You came closer to the source of the sound and, hiding behind a tree, looked whose it was a voice...

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt tears running down your cheeks, like blades piercing your skin.Lucifer stood with another woman. His smile....he had not smiled as much as he smiled at this woman for a long time.You were hurt, terribly. He betrayed you. You were on the verge of hysterics. Turning around, you ran away, sobbing and wiping your tears with your hands.

Everything around you seemed so fake. These light clouds. Birds, flowers, plants. You flapped your three wings and quickly flew. Where? You didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t where you were flying from.

..............................................................................................................

The next few days were a blur. You felt terrible, you suffered. Lucifer, betrayed you? You couldn’t accept it. When Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven because he got involved with a demon, you didn’t care anymore. You used to be a very joyful archangel. Everyone called you a ray of sunshine. But now... There were black bags under your eyes because of lack of sleep. Your eyes are red, tear-stained. Your condition was immediately noticed by other angels.

“Y/n, honey, are you okay....?” One day an archangel turned to you, concerned about your condition. But she was only met with a few rude words. This alerted her. Soon the angels began to avoid you. The archangels thought about making a decision about your expulsion. But before they could do anything, you expelled yourself. Having opened the portal, you descended into hell. “If I suffer here... It won’t be worse there..” You thought.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. A few days later, you sat curled up in a ball in some alley of hell. Your clothes were torn in some places, your wings were tattered, you felt emptier than an empty glass.Your tired eyes were closed. Your face was buried in your knees. You were so tired that you didn’t even have the strength to cry. Suddenly, you heard someone’s voice. It felt like someone was talking on the radio.

"What are you doing here, dear.With those...wings.Aren't you supposed to be in heaven?" His static voice sounded confident.

You raised your head slightly and opened your eyes. You saw a strange sinner in front of you... He was different from many of those you saw here. He was dressed in a beautiful fitted red suit, his black bow tie was beautifully attached to his shirt. He had a big smile on his face, showing his yellow, sharp teeth. His eyes were calm, but you could see a slight mockery in them.He had black gloves on his hands, and in one of his hands he held a red microphone on a stick.

"W...what do you want...?" You asked in a quiet, pitiful voice. You heard him laugh slightly.

"Ah, nothing important, dear, just curious what such.... creature..like you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side with slight -crack-.

"Who are you...?" You said weakly

"Ah, name's Alastor.Pleasure to meeting you! Quite a pleasure!" He bowed while saying this. You didn't say anything, only looked down at the ground. He continued watching you for few seconds then walked closer to you, standing in front of you.

Alastor couldn't help, but when he saw you, something woke up in him.He was in hell only few month, but still made reputation of dangerous cruel demon.But when he saw your poor, beautiful body, his heart skipped a beat. He felt a strange pull to protect you.

"Such an innocent soul..." he thought

............................................................................................................

You didn't know how it happened, but you find yourself in....his apartment...? With Alastor in front of you.There was a cup of tea in front of you. You looked at your reflection in the tea. You looked terrible. Shabby dirty hair, tired face...The demon continued to look at you, drinking his coffee. His smile never fell, you didn’t even care.

Your weak hand reached for the cup of tea. Fragile fingers clasped the handle of the tea, but your hands were too weak to lift the cup. Alastor noticed this and his eyes narrowed slightly. He put his cup on the saucer. Crossing his legs, he leaned back, watching you.

No matter how he tried to find pleasure in your suffering and raise the cup, he did not feel good. He felt sympathy for you, and a desire to protect. He slowly stood up and approached you.His beautiful long fingers took a cup of tea from your hand and brought the cup to your lips. Slightly surprised by such actions, you looked at the demon.

Opening your lips slightly, you started drinking tea with small sips.

After tea and some food (Alastor feed you too) Alastor showed you way to the bathroom, you needed it.You looked like complete mess.Alastor provided you with a towel, after which you went into the bathroom.When you came out of the bath, prepared clothes were waiting for you... Or rather, a shirt and pants...

When you were changing clothes, Alastor came into the room. He was amazed by your beauty. Your hair.. your smooth skin... Ah, those beautiful wings... He felt his pulse increase.His smile and eyes began to give off shades of warmth.

..............................................................................................................

You lived with Alastor for a long time.You became very close, you started to feel better. Every evening, over a cup of tea, he listened to your worries and sufferings... Usually he would have enjoyed this, but with you, he only felt the desire to calm you down. Every day spent with Alastor gave you more strength, and made you forget Lucifer.

In a hell full of lustful sinners and murderers, you have found comfort in a dangerous demon.No, he wasn't just a demon for you, Alastor, this soul..When he woke up in the evening because of your sobs in the next room, he would sigh and get up heading towards you. When he approaches you, he will lie down next to you and hug you. He hates touching.... But for you he will do anything.He would kill for a feeling of your wings wrap around him when you relax after telling him what bothering you.

When the angels officially kicked you out of heaven, you didn't care so much anymore.You cared only about one thing...only about one person...only about Alastor.

........................................................................................................

"Alastor, where are we?" You asked as you looked around.You were in some kind of garden. Although the flowers were not as luxurious as in heaven, life was visible in them... They looked so bewitching.Alastor coughed and turned away from you. You looked at him in surprise, not understanding his behavior.

"Alastor...?" You almost reached with your hand to his shoulder, but he quickly turned to you.

"Y/n.." Alastor began. His smile was on his face as usual, but you saw the uncertainty in his eyes when he turned to you with one black rose in his hand.You lowered your hand. Oh, how beautiful this rose was... Like an angel of death...

"yes..?"

"i....love you." He extended his hand with the rose towards you. His other hand was tightly gripping his microphone. Your cheeks turned slightly red due to the blush. You felt your heart beating faster and as if butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.He turned his head away, looking away.Without wasting a second, you grabbed his wrist with one hand and turned his face in your direction with the other. Alastor tensed at the contact, but when he felt your soft, plump lips on his, he almost melted.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to penetrate. You let out a slight moan as your tongues intertwined.

After a few seconds, you pulled away each other. from each other and looked into each other's eyes. You smiled. Your cheeks were flushed with blush, but you were happy to think about it.

"I love you too."

Notes: I hope you liked it!!! Sorry that i didn't lost for a while (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠)

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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cheonstapes · 11 months

Note

omg plss do a miguel x bimbo reader im in love <3

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HANDY MIGGY'

(っ╹ᆺ╹)っ

a/n ~ I. LOVE. BIMBOS!!!! thank you for the request sweetie, love you💗 miguel would deffo love a cute little bimbo, i just know it

summary; you don't know how to change your tyres. why would you? that's what your boyfriend's for!

pairing; miguel o'hara x bimbo!reader

wc; 1.4k+

cw; SMUT!!!!, breeding kink (can you tell i have a breeding kink), semi-public sex, fuckin on the car, reader speaks a bit of spanish, daddy kink, meanish!dom miguel, sub!reader, reader is a bit stupid, princess treatment!, reader is a bad bitch, overstimulation, squirting, orgasm control, teensy bit of aftercare, THEY'RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR, nawt proofread - i cannot drive, yet.

surely you weren’t that dumb? were you?

standing there in the 40° heat - wedge sandals, short skirt with your thong riding high on your hips, sweat-sheened tits spilling our of your cute little crop top. a girl always has to look her best, even when she’s about to melt into a puddle from the sun. doing things that required you to use your brain wasn’t something you did often, that’s what your boyfriend’s for!

to be fair, you were never big on cars. barely passing your drivers test, and your daddy getting you your first car shortly after - you didn’t really want to drive around everywhere yourself, the pink porsche taycan collecting dust in your garage, being a passenger princess is the lifestyle now. unfortunately for you, your boyfriend - even though he would collect all the stars in the sky for you if you asked - refuses to let you put that car to waste. so now you’re forced to resurrect the thing, cleaning it up a little bit - and…you have to change the tyre’s.

you even forgot about the punctures, after you accidentally drove over a few spikes in the road coming out of the wrong exit - sometimes you question why you ever qualified for a license. all the tyres were severely fucked up, deflated so much they look like they melted into the floor. your daddy gave you a bunch of spares in case (he knew it would) it ever happened. they were just so heavy, though. you weren’t built for lugging around fucking tyres - but your boyfriend is!!

so you called him, in the middle of the day, knowing he’s probably busy doing his big man job or whatever - but you knew he would drop everything to come and help you, this is an emergency girl! to no one’s surprise, he got there within 15 minutes of you ending the call, speeding into your driveway as he jumps out of the car. sometimes, you forget how mouthwateringly sexy your boyfriend is.

a tight black compression shirt, matching shorts that clung to his thick thighs - black rimmed sunglasses matching yours pushing his hair back. not to mention the little grimace on his face from stepping out in the heat. “what’s up, baby? you ok? need me to get anything for you?” aw, he was so worried. he’s gonna be so pissed when he finds out what you really need him for.

“hi papito, so glad you’re here.” let’s try to sweet talk him a little bit, maybe it won’t be so bad if you give him a little love - the one thing he can’t resist. you hold his face in your hands, pressing a glossy kiss on his puckered lips. his brows furrow slightly, big hands resting on your hips as he pulls you close him, a low moan escaping him as he pulls away. “good to see you too, angel.” he had an amused smirk on his face, lightly caressing your ass under your skirt. “now, tell me what you need help with.”

nodding, you shyly take his hand in yours and lead him to the garage. it was a mess, to say the least - tools scattered everywhere, tyres rolling around where they’re not supposed to be, something that looked like grease spilled on the floor. “the fuck were you tryna do here, babe?” you smiled sheepishly, looking down at the floor before looking back up at him with round eyes.

“…’m tryna change my tyres.”

he rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at you - an unimpressed look on his face. “god, you’re really a-

——————————————————————————————————

- dumb, fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?” the hood of your car was covered in a mix of your shared arousal, drool dripping out of your swollen lips down your chest. “only good for taking this fat cock, hm?”

hard nipples rubbing against your windshield, body jolting violently as your boyfriend abused his cock into your cunt. he was stretching you out so deliciously, his arms under your legs to keep you stable. “m-miggy, mm- fuuuuck, ‘s too much!” he really didn’t care, not when you looked so pretty under him. secretly, he loved how much you would rely on him - seeing that look on your face when you’d ask him for help, shit if it didn’t make him so fucking hard. but, god did he love to punish you for it.

“too much for your stupid, little brain, baby? y’re so cute, you know that?” nodding dumbly, you grind your hips back onto his, flipping up your skirt to slam your ass onto his pelvis so he can watch the cheeks ripple. miguel let out a low growl, slamming a hand down by your head so he can lean against your back, the other gripping your hip. “just wanna fuck you ‘till you’re nothin’ but a senseless breeding bitch f’r me.” his breathing was heavy against your ear, sharp teeth nicking at the sensitive skin.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you muñeca? quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés. wouldn’t let you raise a finger again, ‘m gonna do everything f’r you - since you’re too fuckin’ dumb to do it yourself, gorgeous.” he had such a mouth on him, didn’t he. that didn’t sound too bad, being a stay at home mum. as long as you don’t have to do anything, then you’d happily stay plugged up with his cum all the time.

his balls were heavy, smacking against your stiff clit as he worked your hips back on him. the sensations were overwhelming. every ounce of your body was feeling the pleasure, the reflection of his strained face through the windshield making you clench tightly around him. he hissed, smacking your cunt before gripping your neck and holding you against his hard chest. “stop fuckin’ clenching. if there’s anything that small brain of yours should comprehend, it’s don’t cum till i tell you to.”

“papitooo- please, i need’ta cum - i can feel it, baby!” you, poor, poor thing. too bad he doesn’t give a fuck. he pounded into you even harder, blunt head bullying your cervix. he quickly flipped you around, pressing your back onto the car as he gripped your hips, grinding slowly into you. “hold it.”

angling his hips just right, he drove his fat cock deeper into you, coarse hairs tickling your clit. his fingers trailed up your body, ripping your shirt as he flicked your nipples, spitting on your chest to get them nice and wet. “y’re so pretty, mm, my pretty baby.” his balls tightened, cock twitching hard inside of you as his tip drooled all over your walls.

“gonna cum in your tight, fuckin’ cunt, babe - rub your clit f’r me, or is that too hard for you?” he was so cruel but so sweet. sadistically watching your shaky fingers work your aching clit as his pelvis slammed into you. “goood girl. squirt f’r me, muñeca.” he gazed deep into your eyes, big hands caressing your cheek.

it all gushed out at once, a heavy stream jetting out of your and coating his chest as he let out a deep chuckles, plugging you up with his girth. he fucked you through it, pinching at your throbbing bud as you shook in his hold. “w-wait, miggy, ‘m too sensitive!” he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the car. he let out a low snarl, covering you completely as he rammed deep inside. “quiet. keep that pretty mouth shut.” he didn’t realise how much that would set him off, his orgasm coming before he could even process it.

his whole body tensed up, ass clenching, fingers bruising your hips, hips jutting in and out of you - filling you to the brim with his cum. he was breathing sluggishly, pulling your hips down towards him to keep all his seed inside. “you…you did so good, baby. i love you, yeah? so much.” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your face affectionately. “i love you too, papito.”

you stayed there for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other as you found each others lips, making out smoothly on the car. you pulled a way, placing a hand on his chest - staring at the new tyres that he fixed on for you. “migs?” he nodded, kissing and biting your neck.

“how do i change the oil?”

-quieres que te llene de mi semen. esta linda barriga toda pesada con mis bebés - you want to be filled with my cum. this cute tummy all heavy with my babies.

-muñeca - doll

-papito - daddy

-i wanna be a bimbo doll!

#cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x y/n #cheonslovelynonnies💕

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laurfilijames · 4 months

Text

Easy Access

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse. Creampie. Semi-public sex.

Summary: Unable to keep your hands off of each other since Will's return home from tour, going to a party at Benny's proves to be no exception, especially when he discovers you're not wearing any panties under your sundress.

A/N: It is so rare that Will is smiling and happy so I've made it my mission to give him every ounce of joy he deserves and packed it all into one delicious fic for you, all while indulging in the slutty "bend me over and fuck me in a sundress" fun which is still very much IN 😤 I am also celebrating my 1 year Charlie-versary of when I posted my first fic for one of his characters, which just so happened to be Will Miller, Breathe.

---

Three days had passed since Will returned home, meaning it had been three days since either of you stepped foot out of the house.

Keeping your hands off of each other since the moment they made contact again was proving impossible, your attempt at making up for lost time a challenge both of you had eagerly accepted.

Even now as you sat in his truck on the way to Benny’s, Will had his hand planted firmly on your bare leg, your short sundress giving some relief from the sweltering summer weather, but his palm felt like it was on fire the longer it lingered there, spreading a heat through your whole body that rivaled the sun beaming in through the open window.

He gave your thigh a squeeze before reaching for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting it linger there so you were able to feel his breath and the soft prickling of his beard.

Pulling up to a stop light, Will glanced over at you, smiling against your hand as he sent you a wink that ignited even more fire through your veins.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he praised, his familiar drawl low and enticing.

“Do we have to go?” you joked, tilting your head as you squirmed in your seat, seeing his smile grow into a chuckle that you had missed more than you ever thought possible.

“Yeah, we do. Unfortunately we can’t stay locked up in the house all week.”

His eyebrows rose on his forehead when he looked at you, and when he tucked his lip between his teeth after he stopped speaking, you wondered how much effort it would take to convince him otherwise.

You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as he looked forward at the road again when the light turned green.

“I know you’re looking forward to seeing your brother.”

Will nodded in response, using his free hand to turn his truck left onto the next street. “Yeah, I am.”

Benny had deployed nearly two months before Will had, Pope along with him, and with Frankie, Tom and Will all on their own tours, this was one of the longest periods they had all gone without seeing each other.

Frankie had arranged it all, gathering everyone together for a dinner at Benny’s as a reunion, the need to celebrate each of them returning home safe a priority and perfect excuse to smoke a giant slab of meat and toss back some beers.

“We won’t stay too late,” Will assured, stealing a glance over at you again, his eyes traveling up your legs to your chest that bounced along with the movement of his truck over each bump in the road.

“We can stay as long as you want, Will. I can’t keep you all to myself forever.”

A sort of growl mixed in with his laugh as he shook his head and tried his best to focus on driving, and you felt your pulse quicken as you watched his hammer in his thick neck.

“See, sweetheart, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.”

He pulled onto Benny’s street, slowing down as he approached his brother’s house and found a spot not far down from it, parking his truck behind Catfish’s.

Unfastening his seatbelt, he leaned over the console to get closer to you, his expression somewhat serious even though the hint of a smile played on his gorgeous lips.

“All I want is to hide away with you forever,” he admitted, making your heart feel as if it would burst in your chest.

Before you had the opportunity to say anything in response, Will reached over to close the space between you, his left hand cupping the side of your face to keep you in place as his mouth crashed into yours, a surprised gasp that turned into a soft moan tumbling off your tongue as his danced with it.

It was dizzying, the passion in that kiss and every one that had come before it since his return unlike anything you had experienced before, the crave you felt to taste him on your lips again and again an addiction you could never be rehabilitated from.

You heard him chuckle quietly after he had pulled away, his thumb rubbing your cheek while you kept your eyes closed, almost feeling afraid that if you opened them, he wouldn’t be there. Everything you did in the last three days felt otherworldly, too perfect to be real, and even now you let your fingers dig into the tattooed skin on his forearm just as you had so many times already in order to believe he was actually there with you.

A sigh of relief blew past your lips when you finally did open your eyes, finding him staring back at you with a warmth that made his eyes seem to glow in the late afternoon sun, the smile he flashed at you grounding you just as much as it disarmed you.

“I wish we never had to leave that bed,” he purred, moving to pull the handle to open his door to step out.

“Who said we can’t carry on what we do in bed anywhere else?” you replied, cheekily, grinning in reaction to seeing his eyebrows raise high on his forehead in amusement as he walked around the front of his truck and over to the passenger side, giving you a somewhat warning look as he opened your door for you.

“You’re playing with fire, here. Better watch yourself.”

You chewed on the side of your lip as you hopped out of your seat, feeling mischievous in knowing he had yet to discover your dirty little secret, excitement mixing with arousal as you wondered how he would react when he noticed.

Closing your door, you met him at the open door of the back seat, standing to the side as he reached in and grabbed a dish off the floor, leaving another that contained one of the other appetizers you had prepared for you to carry in as he lifted the small cooler full of beers out of the bed of the truck.

You made a point of leaning in as far as you could to reach it, bending at your waist as much as you could even though it wasn’t necessary due to the height of the truck, but knowing this angle would allow for him to see your bare ass.

“Are you not wearing any panties?” he asked, surprise and amusement in his voice, the expression on his face matching when you stood upright and faced him.

You grinned and shrugged, watching his sly smile reach his eyes that were now tinged with a darkness that you knew was lust.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he huffed, slamming the door shut before turning to step onto the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ,” he added under his breath, clearly wondering how he was going to manage now.

With satisfaction giving you a spring in your step, you followed, walking up the driveway beside him, hearing music coming from the backyard along with the familiar laughs of your friends.

Will paused, quickly meeting your lips in a forceful kiss, the deep breath he took when he parted telling you how hard he was working at keeping his composure before reaching the gate that would lead you into the party.

He flicked the latch on the gate, but grabbed the top of it with his large hand before letting it swing open, blocking the entrance so you were stopped beside him. The look he gave you was stern, adding to the flurry of excitement already pulsing wildly through you, and his voice held a tone that made you hold your breath and your skin tingle, feeling the light, humid breeze tickle the sweat on your legs as your less-than-innocent sundress moved with it.

“If you’re gonna play games like this, you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences,” he warned, the corner of his mouth pulling upward ever so slightly as he backed himself against the door to open it, still holding eye contact with you as he let you pass by him.

You didn’t know how long you had been there for, the only thing you knew was that your need for Will was increasing with each passing second and that he seemed to enjoy torturing you, the game you had set up to have him begging for you effectively reversed. It was difficult to keep a steady conversation with anyone - impossible, even - your focus drawn across the yard to wherever Will was standing, seeming to latch eyes with him each time and feeling his locked on you when you forced yourself to look away.

The way he was making you feel almost had you regretting your decision not to wear panties and make it known to him, but as you watched him lick his lips and rub the back of his neck as he half-listened to something his brother and Pope were laughing about, you knew your choices would be rewarded despite him acting like punishment was a more suitable response, and if you were honest, that was exactly what you were hoping for.

You knew you were pressing your luck, sitting down on an old lawn chair, your gaze fixed on Will to make sure he was watching as you blatantly crossed your legs, knowing he could see your naked sex before the overlap of your bare thighs concealed you again.

Despite the somewhat smug grin on your face, your heart was racing uncontrollably, the nerves coursing through you growing at a furious rate as you took in the unreadable expression on Will’s face. You couldn’t decide if he was angry or amused, his arms folded across his chest, his stance sturdy and confident, chewing on a toothpick that he rolled from side to side across his lips with his tongue, and it made you wonder if he couldn’t decide how to feel either.

He shook his head and you noticed his chest rise and fall with a huff before looking away, plucking the toothpick out of his mouth so he could take a sip of his beer that he reached for off the picnic table.

You bit your lower lip, trying to mask your satisfied smirk, and took a deep breath of your own as you attempted to refocus on the conversation happening around you, but you still couldn’t seem to peel your eyes away from Will.

He was clearly trying to do the same, but also failing, and when he stole a look over at you again, you took the opportunity to recross your legs to give him another glimpse of what was his for the taking if he dared.

The crunch of the aluminum can being crushed in his powerful hand seemed to echo in your ears, his eyes steely as he maintained eye contact with you while his other hand subtly adjusted his cock in his shorts that you knew was getting hard.

Will licked his lips before looking back to Benny where he patted his brother firmly on the shoulder, saying something to him as he held up his empty beer can, taking a step in the direction of the garage.

Catching your gaze again, he tilted his head, nodding for you to follow him before he disappeared around the wall of the building.

With your mouth now feeling dry, you downed what was left of your drink and stood, politely excusing yourself from the others who sat near you even though you hadn’t contributed to the conversation in too long a time thanks to your occupied thoughts, your hand instinctively smoothing the back of your dress to make sure you were covered as you walked through the yard.

Looking over your shoulder to ensure no one was following, you rounded the corner only to walk straight into Will who lunged out and grabbed you, laughing as you yelped, your heart stopping from the scare.

“Jesus, Will!”

He continued to chuckle, his smile crooked as he still held the toothpick between his lips, his hands groping at your waist and then lower to your bare ass. You couldn’t help but join his laughter, seeing him smile and be this playful replacing the brief fright with a swell in your heart.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I missed hearing your laugh,” you admitted, resting your hands on his warm chest as he beamed at you.

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, smiling as he dipped in and kissed you, your arms wrapping around his neck while his secured around your back and pulled you against him, able to feel his cock pressing against your body.

“Come here,” he said through a growl, his voice rough and lusty while his eyes continued to hold a playfulness in them, leading you in through the open door and giving the toothpick a flick that landed somewhere on the oil-stained concrete floor.

Walking far enough in so he was sure no one would see you unless they actually came inside the garage, Will wasted no time in planting you against Benny’s workbench, his kisses coming on so forceful and desperate it was hard to keep up.

Both of you were smiling between kisses, completely elated and lost in the thrill of it all, and as much as you had expected Will to follow through on making you pay for your little stunt, it still caught you off-guard when you felt his fingers trail up between your legs to stroke your wet folds.

“Here? Now?” you asked, half squirming and half leaning into his touch, a breathy moan passing your lips as you let yourself succumb to the feel of his index finger pushing inside you.

He peered down at you, his eyes shifting with amusement as you relaxed into him and started to roll your hips. “It's what you wanted, isn't it?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle your sounds of pleasure that he was already coaxing out of you.

“You're lucky I can't get enough of you,” he growled, adding a second finger and hooking them to massage your g-spot. “If you're gonna dress and act like a slut then you're gonna be treated like one.”

His words sent a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your sundress, and your eyes closed as he fingered you as perfectly as always. You felt his face draw close to yours, his breath hot on your dewy cheek, his beard grazing your reactive skin as he dipped in beside your ear.

“No one's gonna know…”

You grinned when his lips attached to your neck, the thought of denying this man anything he wanted humourous, knowing that after being apart for as long as you had, nothing could stop you.

It all progressed quickly; your kisses intensifying with each one, the sound of your name coming off his lips as he told you he loved you making you delirious, your hands grasping at each other desperately.

The smell of his shampoo was awoken by your fingertips scratching through his hair, the press of his lips on yours and the way his tongue claimed your mouth while his beard chafed at your chin and cheeks all a reminder that there would never be a day you would be sated of him.

You let your hands slip down his neck and over his broad shoulders, finding a resting place on his thick chest that radiated a warmth that made his cotton t-shirt cling even more to it, and you could feel his heart thrum against your palm before his laugh rumbled through to it.

“The things you make me do, sweetheart,” he chuckled, allowing his hands to leave your body for a moment while he unfastened the button and zipper on his shorts and pulled out his cock.

You returned his smile, yours feeling lazy on your lips from the haziness of lust, and you reached for his cock, smoothing your hand up and down his length until his smile was wiped away and he clutched your jaw with his hand, squeezing it as he kissed you again.

He peppered along down to your neck, his fervor increasing as your reaction to it encouraged him more, the hand that had been gripping your chin falling to your chest where he pawed at you roughly while the other rucked up the skirt of your dress.

“I still don't think you realize how much I missed you, and I’m not even close to being done yet,” he growled, driving his fingers in your soaked cunt again.

You leaned back against the workbench, your hands gripping the edge of it for stability as your head tipped back, allowing Will more access to attack your neck and chest with his mouth, feeling the grittiness of dirt and grime left from Benny’s projects under your fingertips.

“Fuck, Will…” you breathed, riding his hand without shame.

“Turn around, I wanna see that ass,” he demanded, though his tone was light with mischief.

He removed his fingers from you and aided in spinning you around, kicking your feet apart with his as you hinged forward and resecured your hold on the countertop, his hand trailing from the small of your back where he had pressed with intention to down between your cheeks while lifting your dress back up over the round of your ass.

You moaned, arching back into him, feeling him rub his cock across your cheeks as he continued to finger you from behind, his other hand reaching around to grab your breasts and tug at your neckline.

He gave you a playful spank, but it didn’t come without a sting, making you jolt forward slightly which caused the bench to shake against the wall, his voice gruff but light mannered when he spoke.

“I know you think this dress looks all pretty and innocent on you, but only I know what a whore you actually are in it.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, his words and the way he was hitting the spot that would make you fall apart each time he moved in and out of you causing your arms to break their support, knocking over a few empty beer bottles and cans that sat amidst the rusty tools.

“Easy, baby,” he soothed, but not ceasing his pace. “We gotta be quick but not that quick.”

Continuing to prime you to take his size, you heard him chuckle again, his tone completely satisfied and humoured as if he was basking in the fact that he now had the upper hand in the situation.

“How are you gonna manage with no panties after you’re filled up and dripping with my load, huh?”

You sighed out, glancing over your shoulder at him as he proceeded to grin smugly at you, realizing you hadn’t thought this stunt entirely through.

“We’ll call it an oversight.”

Your response only made Will laugh more, the sound of it making your heart sing in seeing him this happy even if it was partially at your expense.

“You could always put it somewhere else?” you suggested, your mouth watering at the thought of swallowing his hot cum while looking up at his pleasured face from your knees that would end up dirty and scuffed.

He shook his head as he lined himself up to your entrance, pushing into your soppy cunt as his voice changed to be slightly gruff. “Not a fucking chance.”

Your nails raked across the gritty, wood surface as Will bottomed out in you, stretching you completely to fit around his fat cock, the first of his hard thrusts making the workbench slam against the wall.

You cursed under your breath, having him pumping in and out of you a reminder of how hard he had already fucked you that morning, the mix of pleasure and pain making your whines grow to soft cries.

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Will asked, the concern in his voice genuine even though he didn’t relent on his pace.

You shook your head ‘no’, pressing your hips back to meet him blow for blow, feeling a tingle scurry down your back at the thrill of it all.

“You know I like it,” you replied, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite the heat when you heard him chuckle in a gratified way.

“That’s my girl,” he grunted, continuing to pound you with ardor.

It was getting difficult to keep quiet, but with how loud the bench was hitting the wall you suspected what you and Will were off doing was no longer discreet to the rest of the party, so you allowed yourself to stop worrying and focus on how good it felt.

Although Will’s heavy panting and rough moans were equally as loud as you were, he gave the occasional warning to quiet down, and each time one of your wails out-did any other noises you were making together, his laugh would ring out, clearly finding the prospect of getting caught hilarious.

“Shit!” Will called out, still through a chuckle, releasing the grip of one of his hands from your hips to grab at a mason jar filled with various bolts, screws and washers as it tumbled down from an overhead shelf. It danced off the tips of his fingers and hit the floor with a loud smash, sending its contents scattering around your feet.

“Will!” you half cried, half scolded, and as you moved slightly to try to see the damage done, your arm knocked a couple of cans off the table to add to the mess on the ground.

“Jesus…” Will laughed, picking up his tempo a bit to quicken getting the job done, the risk growing with each passing second.

The rate at which he was fucking you had you a disheveled mess, the straps of your dress having slipped down your shoulders, and without their security, each hammering thrust continued to shake your body enough until your tits easily fell out.

Nearing your climax, you lost control of the volume of your cries, and in your haze of pleasure, you could barely hear Will telling you to pipe down.

Right when you were about to fall into bliss, Will pulled out of you and roughly turned you around to face him, his hand gripping the side of your face somewhat forcefully before he crashed his mouth against yours to quiet you. His other hand grabbed the flesh of your thigh and lifted it up to lock around his waist, driving back inside you with his cock that was warm and wet from you.

You moaned into his mouth, only to have him force his tongue deeper inside while he resumed fucking you with all he had, moving the hand that had been holding your face down to your exposed breasts.

Like he had given up caring if you were heard, he broke your kiss to look at you, his blue eyes soaking you up as he drank in the heavenly sight before him; your bare boobs bouncing to his movements, the sweat glistening on your chest and neck that made your hair stick to it, your swollen, moist lips that parted as you fought for breath between moans, and then his gaze fell lower where he watched your drenched cunt taking his dick.

“Fuck you are so hot!” he said through a grin, his tone hinting that he couldn’t believe you were his to treat like this.

He dipped back down to your lips, kissing you once before letting his open mouth hang against yours, stealing another glance at where your bodies connected and crude, squelching sounds came from.

“I missed this fucking pussy so much,” he muttered, his lips teasing yours as he did, and unable to take it anymore, you reached your hand around his neck and pulled him against you, kissing him fiercely while driving your hips into his to grind on him roughly.

Broken kisses continued their attempt at suffocating your sounds as you found a rolling rhythm that would see you to your end, your hands desperately tearing at Will’s thick, sweaty flesh through his damp t-shirt.

A violent orgasm ripped through you, forcing Will to press his lips harder against yours to drown out your cries, burying himself deeper inside your walls that choked his throbbing cock, your leg wrapping around his plump, half-bare ass to help ensure he didn't leave you as you rode out your high.

Even if he wanted to hold back, he wouldn't have been able to, your climax inducing his own, his thrusts slamming and stuttering as he pumped you full with aggressive spurts of cum.

“Fuck, baby,” he smiled against your lips, his forehead resting on yours as you both panted for breath, drunk on each other and completely spent.

You giggled, the thrill of your naughty behaviour adding to the post-fuck euphoria, feeling the rumble of Will’s laugh resonate through your body as he remained inside you.

He pulled away from you enough to peer down at you, his eyes heavy and lusty but crinkling at the sides as he smiled lazily at you, his cheeks blushed and covered in drops of sweat, his blond hair darkened from his efforts.

He continued to smile at you as he fixed the straps of your dress, his fingers gently and lovingly grazing your shoulders as he did, looking at you so adoringly that you could never deny how much he had missed you while he was away.

“I really like this dress,” he spoke softly, his fingers trailing down to trace the material that hugged the curve of your breasts, bringing his face close to yours as he pinched your nipple and tugged it, making you moan and arch toward him.

He kissed the space between your ear and neck, and growled as if he was already fighting to restrain himself again. “But I’m gonna rip it off of you at some point and ruin you completely.”

Will’s teeth nipped along your jawline, and before he pressed his lips on yours, looked at you with a dark, promising look that had your body set aflame all over again.

You hummed against his lips, feeling him slip out of you while wondering how much longer you would manage to stay at the party, knowing it would only be a matter of time before you were desperate for him again, and judging by the force of his kiss and the way his hands clawed at your sundress, he was feeling the same.

“You go inside and get cleaned up,” he said, nodding to the door that led into Benny’s house. “I’ll sort all this out.”

You glanced at the mess on the ground he was referring to, broken glass and various types of hardware littered all around you, and being the gentleman he always was, he took your hand and assisted you safely over to the door.

Will tucked himself back in his shorts and promptly located a broom and dustpan, beginning to sweep up when he heard the shuffling of his brother’s footsteps walking into the garage.

Benny stopped, causing Will to look over at him, laughing when he saw the annoyed look on his face.

“Really?” was all Benny managed to get out, his arms outstretched while Will just shrugged and continued cleaning up.

“You two are fucking unbelievable, you know that?” Benny hissed, pushing Will hard on the shoulder as he passed to add more empties to the disrupted collection on the workbench.

Will only laughed harder, dumping what he had accumulated in the dustpan into the garbage as Benny grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed one to him, knocking his bottle against his and then twisting off the cap to take a sip.

“It’s good to see you happy, man,” he said, clapping his hand on Will’s back before heading out of the garage and back to the party.

---

Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989

#will miller #triple frontier #will miller x female reader #will 'ironhead' miller #charlie hunnam #will miller smut #will miller x reader #triple frontier fic #charlie hunnam characters #william miller #william 'Ironhead' miller

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writingwithcolor · 9 months

Text

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

#culture #cultural disconnect #creator responsibility #writing #authors of color #asks

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 5 months

Text

Angelic Interference

TFW & Winchester little sister!reader

Requested by @s0urw00lf

Synopsis: Sam and Dean don’t want you dating a hunter, so you try to get the angel on your side.

“Hey Sammy?”

Sam looked up when he heard your voice calling for him. You were standing in the doorway to the library, leaning against the frame and trying to look innocent and pleading. Sam recognized the look instantly; you wanted something.

“What is it, squirt?”

You shuffled further into the room, and he noticed you glancing around the room subtly—you were making sure Dean wasn’t there, Sam was sure of it.

“I was wondering if I could go out with a friend tonight?”

Ah.

“And I assume this friend is a boy?” Sam phrased it like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t.

“He happens to be.” You shrugged innocently.

“And who is this boy?” Sam wondered.

“That’s the good part,” you said, but Sam could tell from your tone that he wouldn’t think this was “the good part.” “You already kinda know him.”

Sam frowned.

“I know him? So, he’s a hunter then.” It wasn’t like he had any teenage non-hunting acquaintances.

“Well, his dad is.” You cringed—you could tell already that this wasn’t going well. “And he’s been on a couple of hunts too, I guess.”

“So, he’s a hunter,” Sam repeated.

“Who’s a hunter?” Dean asked as he entered the room.

“No one,” you said quickly, but not quick enough.

“Y/N’s new boyfriend,” Sam said at the exact same time.

“Boyfriend?” Dean was instantly stiff as a board, and you nearly groaned.

“Thanks a lot, Sam,” you huffed quietly, before turning to Dean. “He’s not my boyfriend. It’s just one date.”

“Oh, so it’s a date now,” Sam said, and you were really starting to want to hit him. “Before you said he was a friend.”

“He is a friend!” You argued. “He just…he just asked me out today, it’s the first time, ok?”

“No,” Dean said. “Not ok. You’re not old enough to date, and if you were it wouldn’t be a hunter. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” You scoffed.

“We kept you as far away from hunting as we could for a reason,” Dean continued before you could argue. “We don’t want you near it, you know that.”

“Getting involved with a hunter is a bad idea,” Sam added.

“You’re being ridiculous!” You yelled. “I live with hunters! Can’t get much more involved than that!”

“Apparently you can,” Dean grumbled.

“It’s just not the best idea.” Sam was trying to soothe the situation, his voice much gentler than either you or Dean.

“We’ll see about that,” you huffed, closing your eyes.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Getting an objective opinion, now shush,” you said. “Cas! Cas, we need you!”

A flutter of wings announced the arrival of your angel friend.

“Is something wrong?” Cas asked, worried but calming down quickly when he saw no immediate danger.

“Sam and Dean are being completely crazy,” you said, but unfortunately Cas couldn’t hear you because Dean was saying at the same time—

“Could you please get her to listen to reason.” And Sam was saying—

“I think we need a mediator here.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Cas held up his hands, overwhelmed. “One at a time. Y/N, you’re the one who called me. What’s wrong?”

Dean looked like he was going to protest not being allowed to speak first, but Sam stopped him.

“A friend asked me out on a date, but they won’t let me go.” You glared accusingly at Sam and Dean, until Cas cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Ok. Sam and Dean, why don’t you want her to go?”

“Because he’s a hunter,” Dean said forcefully. “It’s just going to put her in more danger.”

“I already live with—“ you started, but Cas held up a hand and you shut up.

“I think I understand,” Cas sighed. “Y/N, you are already friends with this boy, correct?” Cas asked, and you nodded. “So I don’t see how going on a date with him wouldn’t put you in any more danger.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam stopped him.

“She’s still too young,” Sam said.

“That of course is your decision.” Cas shrugged. “But I’m almost certain that the two of you were dating before you were her age.” When Sam and Dean looked at each other to consider Cas’s words, Cas himself glanced at you and winked. You grinned back at him, but dropped the grin immediately when Dean’s eyes turned back to you.

“One date,” he announced grumpily. “But he’s gotta come here first so we can meet him.”

Dean struggled to keep up his grumpy face when you squealed and went in for a hug.

“Ok, ok,” he huffed, hugging you back and refusing to let you see the way his lips were twitching. “But if I don’t like him, he goes.”

“Deal!” You grinned, pulling away. “You’ll love him, I promise! Thanks guys, thanks Cas!” And with that, you ran off to get ready.

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I just know it.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

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athenasilver7 · 1 year

Note

Could I request ohshc x reader headcannons (separately) where reader is being bullied and goes to them?

OHSHC (separately) x GN Reader

💙 Hikaru 💙

When you come to him crying about being bullied, he just about snaps.

When you tell him it’s been happening for months? He almost loses his damn mind.

“What do you mean ‘months’?! Why didn’t you come to me sooner?!?” He grips at your shoulders a little to hard.

Yeah, he flips out. Not his best moment, nor is it the best reaction to be having right now.

He feels so fucking bad when your crying increases, no thanks to him, obviously.

Hikaru takes a deep breath and calms down. He starts soothing you, holding you in his arm and rubbing your back, mutter a few apologies to you.

When you finally relax and are able to tell him all the details, well… let’s just say he makes a few calls.

Unfortunately, your bully stays at Ouran. So naturally Hikaru takes things into his own hands.

He starts pulling restless pranks on your bully until they get fed up and transfer.

🤍 Tamaki 🤍

Tamaki eventually catches you crying to yourself one day in the gardens. He’s obviously worried and rushes over to you and asked what’s wrong.

All you can manage to sob out is, “I-I’m getting b-bullied…”

……

………….

He holds you tightly in a protective embrace, stroking your hair to soothe you as you cry against his chest.

He’s… quiet. Very quiet.

Tamaki waits patiently until you’re able to collect yourself. He caresses you cheek with a frown.

“My dear… Who is it? Who’s doing this to you?” His tone is low and his voice wavers as he talks.

You tell him who’s been bullying you.

He spends a few days conversing with your bully, trying to talk them in to changing their habits.

If you bully changes their ways, good. Tamaki won’t care for them, obviously, but he’s at least glad they’ve become a better person. And Tamaki will be practically glued to your side so this doesn’t happen again.

If your bully doesn’t change their ways, Tamaki will jump though hoops of several shenanigans to get them to stop and keep them away from you. If all that fails, he’ll reluctantly get his father to kick them out of the school. Ouran is no place for bullying, after all.

❤️ Haruhi ❤️

Well… that’s just not acceptable.

Haruhi, calmly, goes up to your bully and confronts them on their behaviour.

She’s unaware, but as she’s confronting them she’s roasting the hell out of them.

“I don’t know, bullying just seems like your lacking a hobby or something.” Her deadpan voice just makes the whole thing that much better.

Your bully scoffs and doesn’t let up as they continue to bully you the upcoming days.

Haruhi eventually snaps when she witnesses your bully trying to shove you into the fountain.

“Hey! Knock it off! Seriously, how childish do you have to be? Listen, clearly you have something going on in your personal life, and I’m sorry, but that’s no excuse to be taking it out on someone else. And if there isn’t anything personal going on in you life, then just screw off or else I’m telling the chairman!”

Your bully is baffled at Fujioka’s anger and backs off pretty quickly after that. Your bully even starts avoiding you in the hallways, keeping their distance. Haruhi just glares aggressively at them every time she sees them.

💗 Honey 💗

Tired from the constant bullying, you eventually spill your guts to him, bawling as you do so.

Honey is taken aback, but still obviously very concerned. And mad. Not mad at you, heavens no. Mad at your bully.

Granted, he maintains a calm composure on the outside to calm you.

He calms you by patting your head and whispering compliments to you, assuring you that the insults your bully throws at you aren’t true at all.

He offers you desserts and milk. You don’t want deserts? That’s fine, what do you want? You’re nuts if you think he won’t get you a crate of your comfort food.

The next day at school, all Honey has to do is walk up your bully, and your bully is immediately shaking.

Dude… Honey is practically a human weapon. Who wouldn’t be shitting bricks?

The glare on Honey’s face is not helping in the slightest.

Your bully is quick to run away, and transfers out of Ouran immediately.

🧡 Kaoru 🧡

Oh, sweetness… come here.

Lanky arms and legs wrap around you sloth-style.

He doesn’t know why you’re crying. He doesn’t need to know. He just knows that right now you need comfort, and he’s more than willing to give it to you.

I presses gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “Shh, shh, shh… You’re okay. You can tell me anything.” He whispers.

And tell him you do.

He’s frozen for a moment.

He collects himself and goes back to comforting you, telling you how brave and strong you are, and that you should come to him sooner when you’re in trouble.

The next day, much like what Hikaru would do, Kaoru restlessly pranks your bully until they transfer out of Ouran.

Kaoru may be sweet and nice, but he’ll be damned if someone he loves is hurt and he doesn’t do anything about it.

🖤 Mori 🖤

You’re reluctant to tell him for a very long time. Mori is just so calm and tough, a-and… and you’re not. You don’t want to feel like you’re burdening him or relying on him, so… you bite your tongue and deal with it.

Mori, ever the observant one, is quick to notice your change in behaviour the past few weeks.

“Y/N.”

You startle as Mori’s deep voice breaks through the silence.

“…Yeah?” You slowly turn to face him, acting casual.

“What’s wrong.”

You don’t know how, but he managed to phrase that like it wasn’t even a question, he’s telling you to tell him what’s wrong.

You avert your gaze awkwardly and eventually spill the beans.

Mori listens intently, and when you’re done he hums and nods. He gestures you over to him and wraps a protective arm around you, rubbing your back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The next day at school Mori, calmly, punches the wall next your bully and glares down at them. “…Y/N.” He says.

Your bully looks up at Mori with wide eyes, visibly shaking. “Y-Y/N?” Your bully asks, confused.

Mori nods, leaning down face to face with your bully. “Leave them alone.” He demands lowly.

Your bully scrambles a nod and hastily dashes down the hall. Your bully sure as hell never bothers you again after that.

💜 Kyoya 💜

Now, he’s quick to notice.

Although, he feels like an idiot for not noticing the first few days it started happening. But as the days went on, your facade slowly fell, and he quickly pieced everything together from there.

“…Y/N, is there anything you would like to tell me?” He asks casually, scribbling something down in his notebook, his tone implying that you will tell him something.

“…No.” You mutter.

Kyoya sigh and pushes up his glasses. “Are you certain?” He asks again, a twinge annoyed.

You fidget with your sleeves for a bit before telling him everything about the bullying.

That’s all he needed to hear. He wanted to know just how bad the bullying is from your end.

At that, your bully just ‘mysteriously’ disappears after that day.

You squint at Kyoya suspiciously after a month of your bully not being at school.

“…Did you kill them?” I ask Kyoya with wide, accusing eyes.

He huffs in frustration and places down his pen. “No. They just decided to transfer.”

“…Because you threatened them.” You accuse.

Kyoya merely sighs.

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seresinhangmanjake · 5 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair.

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass.

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut.

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says.

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster.

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door.

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus.

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from.

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment.

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms.

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis.

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors.

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key.

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans.

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel.

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear.

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his.

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fic #cod ghost #cod fic #mw2

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