#if you don't want your wife to question your daughter then maybe DON'T QUESTION YOUR DAUGHTER YOURSELF???
Note
Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? I've an ideas : Person A and person B get asked the question of when the other person fell in love. person B's face lights up with mischief and begins to tell the most embarrassing story ever while person A has their head in their hands. You decide who is who. Just something fluff and fun. Thanks!!
The night we first met - James Vowles x StrategistWife! Reader
Plot: You are being interviewed for a Podcast that you and James were asked to do ahead of the 2025 season an get asked about how you guys first ever met.
Credit to jamesvowles for the GIF
"Here today, we've got two incredible people in the motorsport world and may i say one of the most iconic couples in motorsport with us on the Podcast. We're so thrilled that they are here, James Vowles and Y/N Vowles!" the interviewer exclaims and you both smile to the boys who'd invited you onto their podcast.
"Hello, how are you boys?" you smile at them kindly. You'd actually watched this specific F1 podcast for a while so when you saw a DM from them you begged James to come on with you.
"We are good, happy to have you here!" The other interviewer exclaims and smiles back at both of you.
"So, lets start with Y/N, your career into motorsports has been a bit of a roller-coaster right? Similar to your husbands actually!" he smiles looking at his card of notes and you smile before looking over at James.
"Well I unlike most I think who end up where I am now started actually driving. I did karting from ages of four to fifteen before i took part in British Single Seater which i ended up winning" you smile before looking down and sighing.
The boys pulled up a picture of you on the screen behind you, from 1997 when you were around 13 years old standing on a P1 podium place with a mini trophy in your hand.
They then switched to one which must have been taken in around 2001 when you'd won your first championship in a feeder series to F1.
"And this one taken in 2001 correct and you were 16, and you won here? James, in 2001 as well you'd just made your debut into F1 fresh out of university working for Honda BAR correct?" one of them asks and he nods.
"Yeah, i mean i was fresh out of uni in what then was a standard midfield team. Life was great!" he smiled taking you hand and kissing the back of it.
"So what happened. You should have been in F1 by now surely" he exclaims looking at you making you sigh.
"Well, everyone knows that F1 has always been a sport for the rich, even more a rich mans sport. People like Lewis Hamilton and Esteban Ocon can take the risk when they don't have the funds for it as it's way more likely for a man to be able to do it than a woman"
"My dad always told me I'd never make it and you know like most daughters i believed him and really lost my spark for it! And I think it's so amazing how far forward the sport has come with F1 Academy and the Driver Development Programme, like if I'd had the financial backing of a team then i would have had the confidence to do it" you explain and they both look really sad for you, and it was sad. It was the hardest choice you'd ever made.
"That's so sad, I think i can speak for the large majority of fans when i say you for sure would have been one of the first women win an F1 race!" one of the interviewers says and you just smile, you didn't often like to think what could have been if ... because you'd made your choice and you couldn't change that and right now with the life you had it wasn't something you would ever want to change.
"Yeah, I mean I'm happy with my life now and don't often like to think of it. I have James, I have the kids and my life is incredible and you know maybe if i was in F1 i wouldn't have bumped into James the way I did... and well" you giggle quietly.
"Yeah? How did that happen?" he asks.
"Well..." you start to laugh and James forces his face into his hands out of embarrassment.
"Please don't, it hurts my soul every time you tell this story!" he laughs awkwardly before you just laugh and continue with the story.
"Well it was 2006 and I was set to join Sauber BMW for my placement year in university. Despite no longer driving i still wanted to make my way into F1 and the only way I could now do that was through my brain. Come June 2007 when i was set to leave obviously because the University year worked differently I'd suggested an upgrade that I'd been thinking off all throughout university and it paid off as Sauber were P2 in the constructors by the end of the year" you start to explain.
"2007 in ... I want to say February at pre-season testing was the first time I met James. He was stranded at the track and i offered to drive him back to his hotel and at this point Honda were starting to struggle for money and we were talking about the teams and the possibility of a move for him. I was so concentrated on driving that there was some questions he was asking me twice!" you chuckled making the others all laugh around you.
"As we were about to cross over a intersection, our light had just turned green. I was being cautious because it was dark and there wasn't too many people around and the car behind me bibbed me to get a move on... bare in mind our light is still green and as im crossing a car coming across who had skipped the red light and a car crashed into our front spinning us around so we were facing the other way" you say calmly remembering the incident.
"I was so so embarrassed, even though James was convincing me that it wasn't my fault!"
"And it wasn't, we saw the dashcam footage which circled the internet after the whole altercation" the guy nodded in agreement with James thinking the crash definitely wasn't on you.
"I didn't end up talking to him until I joined back in post graduation with Honda, just before they turned to Brawn and I'd just finished my masters! in 2008"
"So why were you wanting to join a team that was severely financially struggling ..." one of them asks.
"Well, what can i say I've always liked an underdog. It was one of the teams i was trusted to be put in a high enough position without the experience. It was for a lower salary but i though we could really really do something"
"You were a massive part in the £1 team winning the championship correct?" he asks and you blush making James lightly elbow you.
"Stop!" you laugh at him.
"You were though, you pushed us through many months of hardship where we thought we weren't going to survive!" James admits, having also worked in Brawn.
"So now that you were back together what happened?" he asks and you looked over at him.
"Oh we argued all the time, we really got on Ross' last nerve!" you laugh and James nods in agreement.
"He was chief strategist and i was an engineer, would we blame each other and you'd often see us neck to neck in the paddock when something went wrong" you giggled.
"Yeah thats where the iconic picture of Jenson Button holding you back as your trying too ... I don't even know what you were trying to do honesty" he chuckles looking at the picture making you both chuckle.
"I think she was trying to strangle me... and now that we are married I can for sure tell you guys this time was defiantly my fault" he nods looking down a little bit.
"So how did you guys end up dating. You started dating after Mercedes overtook Brawn and you guys both remained there correct?" he asks and you both nod.
"I think, as much as we enjoyed our time at Brawn there was so much anxiety and pressure on and off track... and I think there was a lot of tensions" James says and you nod.
"I'd always looked up to James but i was still pretty embarrassed about the whole car crash incident and with all of the stress in the team I think for me it just turned into a self defence mechanism..." you grin, knowing this was the bit where James always got embarrassed.
"We were at the celebrations in Abu Dhabi and when we were celebrating knowing we'd one James ... kissed me ... on the lips and it was so random and quick. He pulled back looking so awkward and for a few moments was panicked ... i still don't know why!" you laugh looking over at him.
"Thought you were gonna report me to HR... but I'd had feelings for you since the car accident and I never stopped thinking about you even in our loss of contact..." he smiles pulling you into a small forehead kiss.
"Woah, thats so crazy we never knew there was a whole story since what 2007 behind the pair of you!" the interviewer smiles and you nod.
"Yeah we got married in 2016... the year i became Nico's race engineer as a promotion. Massive year too where we won constructors and drivers. I don't think Lewis spoke to me for a whole year after that" you laugh remember 2016 to 2017 being awkward.
"Is that what made you make the move later on?" he asks, once Nico left you became Valterri's race engineer when he joined.
"Not at all, I loved my time at Mercedes but there were other challenges out there for me. James understood that and once i saw Lando join McLaren i knew there was a good thing starting there. It was a British brand so you know it wouldn't effect me, or the anyone else so it was the perfect opportunity and i was at the same level as James so it was like we were competing" you laugh.
"And you became chief strategist, which is so so impressive you've really had the incredible career haven't you?"
"You know, I don't know where i'd be if it wasn't for the night we first me" you say looking over at James tears welling in your eyes a little. He drove you to be better at your job... he and the life you'd created with his was the most important thing ever to you.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#james vowles#james vowles x reader#james vowles x you#james vowles fanfic#james vowles fic#james vowles team principle
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today on "viserys isn't the nice guy he thinks he is," we have his willingness to publicly belittle or complain about things he clearly demands of alicent in private. he'll humiliate her in front of high-ranking men for something, then when alone will turn around and berate her for not doing that very same thing.
in episode 4, alicent tries to engage daemon in conversation about the tapestries, offering to go view them together in an effort to reach out to viserys's side of the family. it's viserys, not daemon, who repeats her words mockingly, and then the two of them snicker about it. (bless rhaenyra for noticing alicent was visibly upset here and stepping in for her.) meanwhile, later we see viserys frustrated by the fact that alicent's failed to become close to people like daemon.
in episode 6, alicent is arranging viserys's blanket to make him comfortable. in front of lyonel strong, he acts as if her assistance is a nuisance, complaining to him that he's being "endlessly fussed over" and saying "it's a wonder i can visit the privy alone." and yet seconds later, once lyonel has left, he goes to get up and demands to alicent, "aren't you going to help me?"
as with most things for viserys, i'm sure he's blissfully unaware of how hypocritical he's being. but it's interesting that viserys seems to like to posture around powerful men that he admires (daemon, a targaryen prince, and lyonel, a lord and the hand of the king). he does this at his teenaged wife's expense, but then privately has no problem with demanding that she do the things he's publicly shamed her for doing the moment those same men aren't around to witness it.
i can think of a great deal of men irl who are exactly like this and i have the ick for every single one of them.
#there's also the aspect of him confiding in her that he's not sure whether aegon or rhaenyra should be his heir#and then getting angry any time she questions rhaenyra going forward#like sir YOU ARE THE REASON SHE GOT THE IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!#if you don't want your wife to question your daughter then maybe DON'T QUESTION YOUR DAUGHTER YOURSELF???#anyways#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd meta#house of the dragon meta#alicent hightower#alicent#viserys targaryen#viserys#viserys i targaryen#viserys i
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look at me t.s.
Pairing | Thomas Shelby x Female reader
Summary | When Mrs. Shelby requests Tommy in the room with her for the birth of their first daughter everyone is shocked. Men aren't supposed to be in the room with their wives as they give birth, it's just not how it is supposed to be... well all men aren't Thomas Shelby.
Warnings | Mentions of childbirth, pain obviously she's literally giving birth, maybe ooc Tommy? idk. Reader is a little mean to her doctors but she's in pain cut her some slack. MDNI because I said so. Foul language.
Word Count | .06k
~This is loosely based off of the scene in Queen Charlotte when they won't let George into the room to see Charlotte. If you know what I'm talking about I love you~
All dialogue in italics is spoken in Romani.
"Mrs Shelby forgive me but husbands aren't usually in the room during the birth" The doctor spoke hesitantly as his eyes flicked nervously around the room.
Everyone seemed to speak hesitantly around her. I guess that was what you get when you become a Shelby. Everyone around you is constantly terrified to tell you no or disagree. It was like being royalty in a sort of fucked up way.
Polly Gray cut the doctor a look as she walked over to you and put a reassuring hand on your forehead.
"Polly please" you cried in pain "I need him here." Nothing from the old wive tales could compare to the pain you were feeling. You had been pushing for hours now with Polly at your side but nothing was working. Your daughter simply just would not budge. Polly had made the comment early on about her already showing traits from her father.
"I don't care what usually happens. If Tommy Shelby is not in this room in the next five minutes, I will personally end you." You spoke with a hiss pointing at the doctor.
You weren't usually this aggressive, but given the fact you were in pain and used to getting what you wanted all the time, the circumstances were different.
Polly sighed as she looked down at you and began to head out of the room.
"What's wrong, is she okay?" Tommy spoke immediately as Polly exited the doors of your room.
"She's requesting you Thomas" Polly spoke in Romani so as to not alert the other doctors of your request.
"She wants me in the room with her?" He spoke hesitantly as he looked towards the door.
Polly nodded and Tommy immediately started towards the door.
"I'm sorry Mr. Shelby but I cannot allow you to be in the room." The doctor outside of your door spoke as his eyes flicked down to the floor to avoid Tommy's sharp gaze.
"Tell me, doctor, do you like your job?" Tommy spoke with a raised brow as he waited for his response.
When he didn't reply Tommy bent down to reach his gaze "Hmm? I asked you a question doctor, do you like your job?"
"Yes. Yes I like my job" He murmured still avoiding the sharp blue eyes that were currently staring daggers at the man.
"Well if you intend on staying alive long enough to keep it, I suggest you move out of my way." Tommy stood up straight and tilted his head towards the door.
The doctor nodded and stepped aside, letting Tommy enter the room. "If I hear one more word from anyone about my presence in this room, I will have a peaky blinder on each and every one of your doorsteps first thing tomorrow morning" Tommy spoke before anyone could protest.
"Tommy" you gasped as you finally laid eyes on your husband. "I've been asking for you"
"I know, I know. But I'm here now eh? I'm here now." Tommy bent down to give your forehead a kiss as you winced.
"I cant do this Tommy" you cried "I want it to be over"
Tommy's heart broke at the sight of you. His wife. He wished he could just take all of your pain away and keep it for himself.
Tommy bent down to kneel at the side of your bed as he cradled your face in his hands.
"Look at me. Hey, Look at me, love." He spoke softly as you turned your head to gaze at him with teary eyes.
"You can do this. I know you can. You are the most headstrong women I know, and ill be damned if you give up now." You giggled at his lighthearted teasing and nodded.
"And you don't really have a choice love. This baby has got to come out in one way or another." He smirked at you as you rolled your eyes at your husband.
"Okay Mrs. Shelby its time to push" Your doctor spoke as Tommy placed a kiss on the hand he had ahold of and nodded at you.
"Let's meet our daughter Mrs. Shelby."
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#cillian murphy x reader smut#cillian murphy#thomas shelby x reader#cillian murphy x reader#peaky blinder imagine
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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1
[chap two] | [all chapters here]
summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…
notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers
a/n: Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao.
Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol.
I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.
(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)
wc: 3.9k
Chapter One
The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.
Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.
Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.
Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.
To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.
So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?
That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.
Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.
You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.
Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.
It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.
So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.
Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).
Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.
Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.
So… What did you want? What did you actually like?
It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.
Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.
So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?
Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?
You settled on four key things to keep in mind:
You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.
You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.
You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.
And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.
How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.
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The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.
You were going to sit at a new lunch table.
You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.
But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?
You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.
Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.
“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”
So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.
“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.
“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”
You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.
Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.
And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.
You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.
As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.
As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.
Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.
Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.
Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.
Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.
As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.
That’s when an idea began to form.
You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).
You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.
You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.
So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”
Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.
But then the idea gave you pause.
You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.
But… maybe?
Shit, what a stupid idea.
Or maybe it was a brilliant one.
You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.
You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.
Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?
It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.
So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:
Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436
You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.
You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.
He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”
Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”
The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.
“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.
You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.
So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.
When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn’t know, but you nonetheless continued it.
So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.
It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.
You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:
Picnic table behind the football field, 4.
God, what were you getting yourself into.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things#em#dos and donts
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ani sleeping w his stepdaughter cause her mom wouldn’t put out, but he tells her it’s okay because technically she’s half her mom. so he’s not cheating.
— 18+. Smut. Dead dove do not eat. Stepcest/Fauxcest. Afab!Reader | Fem!Reader. This is sick.
— a/n: I don't know who the fuck you are but I want to kiss you. I am. Speechless. (not proofread, it is 3 am).
It was hard for him to take his eyes away from you to start with. He was supposed to be a good role model— to make up for the father you never had… and yet, he was finding himself down on his knees for you. You wanted money to get your nails done? Stepdad!Anakin is handing you the cash. You want a new skirt you saw online? Send the link to Anakin so he can get it for you. You want to relieve that uncomfortable itch that boys your age simply cannot alleviate? Oh, your stepdad is more than happy to help.
There was always a small doubt at the back of his head; you are… well, his wife’s daughter. It could be described as «logical reasoning», but Anakin is— probably— physically incapable of not thinking about you the way he should be thinking about his wife. Sometimes it brings him pure spite, even disgust… but when you are so close— yet so far, can you really blame him? Despite his years, Anakin is insanely attractive; those silver strands mixing with his blonde curls, the small wrinkles around his tired blue eyes, even those strong, hard-working hands that rest on your waist when you greet him after a long day of work… Yeah, can you really blame a man?
He has to share you with his wife, and despite being something normal, he doesn't like it— but he doesn't know it, or at least hasn't thought about it. Anakin just dislikes how you cling to your mother, it being justified. She raised you alone, she gave you the life you have— he just walked into your life and your mother’s house to make everything more perfect than it already was.
Maybe it is an insult to your mother’s intellect and integrity to… fuck you, but, can you really fucking blame Anakin?
Anakin loves how willing you are. How you are so eager to fulfill the hole your mother is slowly leaving. Late nights at the office and poor daddy is all alone… you sure needed to step up and help him, right? And it is only fair, he gives you everything you want! So you might as well pay him back somehow, right? Right?
A man has certain… urges. Everyone knows that.
You know that.
And if he is married to your mother, and you are— practically half, is it even cheating?
Because it should make you feel guilty, because his cock has no right nestling inside your tight pussy in a way that has you touching the sky, fisting your sheets and moaning his name while your phone buzzes next to your head with a miserable text that reads: «Honey, I'll work extra hours tonight, tell Anakin to buy some takeout.»
“Ignore her,” Anakin groans, pushing your head against your pillow. He pulls your hair too, yanking your head up enough to hear your moans, but low enough for your tears to be eaten by the pillow. Crying on the bed is something girls do all the time, so if your mother sees it, it would be easy to explain. “Focus on me, princess. Does it feel good?”
You nod dumbly, sometimes it seems like your brain decides to take a break every time his cock slides in. “Uh-uh,” You mumble, drool trickling down your mouth.
“Good girl. Don’t think about her. It’s her fault anyway,” Your stepdad grins, slapping your ass for good measure. He likes how responsive you are— so different from your mom. She barely makes any sound. “You feel so fucking amazing, way better than she does.”
The backhanded praise makes your stomach swirl with little butterflies. Daddy complimented you! That’s lovely. That sure fills the void inside your heart. All you wanted your whole life was approval… and now, you have the most perfect, most caring, most attentive man in the universe to give it to you.
So, naturally, you beg for more. “Yeah?” It’s a breathless weak question, but it makes Anakin’s smile grow wider. “Do I… I feel better?”
“A hundred percent, doll,” Anakin purrs, looking down your back, licking his lips already savoring the taste of your sweat, biting them when he sees your ass bouncing and thighs giggling. “I might as well divorce her and marry you instead.”
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anon#stepdad!anakin#stepdad!anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker smut#anakin x reader#anakin x reader smut#anakin skywalker x reader smut
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MC: ...
Leona: *has been "subtly" observing them*
MC: ...
Falena's wife: ...
Falena's wife: Back to our discussion.
MC: Yes. You're hoping that I would be of help to His Majesty now that his health is deteriorating.
Falena's wife: Yes. Would it be possible for you to extend his life?
MC: There are factors that we need to consider. Does he still want to rule this country?
Falena's wife: No. He wants to live longer so he would be able to witness Cheka and Liora grow up into fine princes, and your second child to be born.
MC: Hmm. I could strengthen his heart, however... He likes to eat things that aren't good for him.
Falena's wife: *chuckles* We could just instruct Kifaj to be strict on him.
MC: In that case, I will start on the treatment.
MC: How are you feeling, Your Majesty?
The king: I'm feeling great. *chuckles* I think I could yell better on Kifaj now.
Kifaj: And I will do better to ignore you if needed.
The king: Anyway, is it true there will be a second-born?
MC: It will not until two years, Your Majesty.
The king: Oh. It takes that long?
MC: Yes.
The king: Oh. I see. How come? Isn't pregnancy supposed to be nine months?
MC: It's different with transcendentals, Your Majesty.
The king: *sigh* Well then, I guess I have to wait that long.
The king: I wish it's a girl this time so the Kingscholar will have their little princess.
MC: ...
MC: A princess it is.
The king and Kifaj: ...
The king: That's wonderful! Kifaj! Buy everything that will suit our baby princess!
Kifaj: Yes, Your Majesty!
MC: Again, the baby will not be born until two years.
The king: That is fine! Knowing that it will be a princess is enough!
Leona: *staring sternly at them from behind*
MC: *carrying Liora*
Baby Liora: *seems curious why his father is staring*
MC: What is it, Leona?
Leona: *walks and moves in front of them* The request you've been trying to delay.
MC: ...
MC: Sharing your mana to me is out of the question.
Leona: Tch. But I want to help you and I don't want to see not waking up for days again.
MC: ...
MC: How long will you try to insist on this?
Leona: I don't know. Maybe until you give me an alternative?
MC: ...
MC: I could give you one, but it would cost you a great inconvenience.
Leona: What is it?
MC: Cater our daughter for me.
Leona: ...
Leona: How?
MC: Like how I catered Liora. I will transfer the seed in your heart.
MC: You must keep your emotions stable.
Leona: Alright. I can do that.
MC: ...
MC: Alright. Come closer.
Leona: Yes- Mmp!
MC: *pulls themselves away* Give her back to me after two years. The same way that I did just now.
Leona: *blushing* That's a kiss you-
MC: I wouldn't call it as such. Now leave and stop bothering me for today.
Baby Liora: *waves at his father*
Leona: ...
Ruggie: *almost got choked on his food*
Ruggie: *then laughs*
Leona: *frowns at him*
Ruggie: That's a lot of trust, man. To think that MC allowed you to take care of your daughter.
Leona: Yes. But in the end, they're still the one who's going to birth it.
Ruggie: Though, are you sure you're up for the job? Two years is quite a long time, you know?
Leona: Yes. What do you take me for?
Ruggie: Impatient, easily annoyed-
Leona: *glares at him*
Ruggie: That. That's what I'm talking about. MC has always been cool-headed that's why Prince Liora has no complications and they carried him for three and a half-years.
Ruggie: I wonder how you are going to manage that.
Leona: It's my future daughter we're talking about here, Ruggie. I will do everything for her.
Ruggie: Okay. Why don't we start first by you eating vegetables?
Leona: *scowls*
Ruggie: It's for the baby princess. *amused by his expression*
Falena: I'm glad you have entrusted the development process to Leona.
MC: He wanted to help so I let him.
Falena: *happy sigh* I could already imagine what my niece would be like. *chuckles* *is imagining a snobbish baby and will frown at the sight of anyone*
MC: *knows what he's thinking and couldn't agree more*
#twisted wonderland#twst mc#twst leona#twst baby liora#twst falena#twst ruggie#twst kifaji#twst divorced au
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i’m the mood for hurt/comfort but feel free to ignore,
what about mafia!price with his darling wife who is experiencing postpartum depression
PPD is such a terrible thing to have to go through. i've had a few patients share their experiences with me, so a lot of what i've incorporated into this short drabble is based off of that as well as some other research i've done. it's an issue that's largely ignored in our society but thankfully is being brought into light more. if you're experiencing this, please reach for help if you're able. there might be more resources for you than you realize (: i'll provide a link to the PSI website, should anyone find themselves in need of their support!
warnings: anxiety, intrusive thoughts (fear of infant death/harm), depression, hurt/comfort, f!reader, everything's gonna be okay (:
mafia!141 masterlist
She won't stop crying.
It's been four hours and your ears are ringing from your daughter's high pitched screaming, and nothing you do seems to console her. No amount of bouncing or shushing or attempts to feed her will cease her wails, and you're convinced that someone is trying to punish you. So you pace around the living room with her in your arms as you try and drown out her sobs with the late night weather. The clock on the bottom right of the screen reads 1:17 AM.
John is still at work.
You start crying when the clock reads 1:42. There's a terrible ache and burn in your arms from holding her for so long, but the thought of putting her down makes you want to scream. You think of attempting to tuck her away in her crib, to shut the door to try and take a moment to breathe and your mind is filled with what ifs. What if she chokes? What if she stops breathing and you're not around to help her? What if you leave her there, all alone, and you come back to nothing but a stiff corpse?
No, you can't put her down, so you continue to pace the living room while you attempt to ignore the wet tears that smother your face and neck. Why is she still crying? Is it something you did? Something you didn't do? Maybe you're just incompetent as a mother, so much so that your own child is rejecting you. This squealing, writhing mass of flesh is proof that you never should have bore her at all.
Keys jingle outside of the front door at 1:56 and neither you nor the baby have calmed down the slightest bit. The door swings open and shuts quickly after, and it doesn't take John long to find his wife and child sobbing together in the living room. He looks like hell with messy hair and wrinkled clothes, but it's nothing at all compared to your tear stained face and puffy eyes.
"Oh, darling," he breathes.
He crosses the room in an instant, but before he has time to question you, you hold the baby for him to take. There's an obvious tremble in your grip, and your biceps strain and cry out from the movement. Terrified you'll drop her, you all but shove her into his chest before he has the chance to scoop her up properly.
"Take her," you say through a sob. "I can't. I can't fucking do this."
Words leave his mouth but don't quite hit your ears. They're ringing much too loud for you to pay attention to anything other than the dread eating through your stomach.
Your tears don't stop when you leave the living room, or the house for that matter. Cool air teases the still wet streaks on your face, and with your hands free you can finally wipe them clean, though it doesn't make you feel any better. The backyard looks strange at night without any lights to illuminate it, and maybe you would feel creeped out or even scared if you could find it within you to even care about yourself in that moment.
When your legs can no longer carry you, you find yourself in the grass. Perfectly manicured and kept, it makes the perfect surface for you to sit on while you sob into your hands, powerless to do anything else. Something is wrong with you. There has to be. You couldn't comfort your daughter, couldn't get her to feed, couldn't do anything but hold her and pray it would all stop.
You aren't sure what time it is when you hear footsteps approaching behind you, but you don't have to turn around to know it's John. Tears have stopped pouring down your cheeks but your sobs still shake your body. John settles on the grass next to you, and you don't bother fighting against him as he pulls you into his lap.
You want to find comfort in his arms, in the way his hands rub long stripes along your back, but deep down you know you're not worth it. A pathetic excuse for a mother, you couldn't even calm his child before he got home from a long night at work.
"What's goin' on, love?" he prompts after a while.
It takes you a moment to find your words, and an even longer time before you can stop crying long enough to get any of them out. Still, John is patient with you, and he continues to rock and hold you, comforting you in the way you couldn't comfort your child.
"I wish I was a good mother," you cried, shamefully burying your face into his neck. "I can't get her to stop crying, she won't feed- nothing I do works. I'm sorry, I just can't, I don't know what to do."
John's grip on you grows tighter as you speak, and you focus on the way his thudding heart quickens at your words. One of his hands moves to the back of your head where he holds you even closer as he rests his chin on the top of your head.
"It's not your fault," he assures softly.
"It is!" you retort. "I can't bond with her, it's like she hates me. And I'm trying so hard but I can't get through to her..."
"Darling, she's just colicky, it's not your fault," he insists.
But you can't stop crying. There's a pit of hopelessness eating you from the inside out, and the pain turns your sobs into pathetic squeaks that shatters John's heart. He gently pries you away from his chest, cotton soaked and darkened from your tears, and cradles your cheeks in his hands.
"Look at me, hey," he whispers, guiding you to look at him. "You are raising a healthy, beautiful baby girl. Our baby. Sure, she's going through a fussy streak, but that's got nothin' to do with you. It's just colic, love. She'll get through it. We'll get through it."
It's difficult to agree with him, to believe him, and your confirmation feels empty in your throat when you speak. But he's looking at you with such love, like you hung the stars or...
Or like you gave him a child.
That night, John tucks you into bed and if the baby cries, you don't hear her. He spends the night tucked away in the living room on the couch, flipping through channels on the screen while shushing his fussy daughter. Her sobs had turned into heart wrenching whimpers by that point, which isn't great but is better than nothing.
When morning comes and the dull dawn light illuminates the room, John shoves his hand into his pocket and fishes out his phone. It's nearly dead since he had been on it half the night at work and didn't have the chance to charge it when he got home, but it has enough juice for him to make a quick call.
The dial tone is loud in his ear, and his daughter lets out a small whine before quickly settling down again. Simon's voice on the other end is groggy and harsh like he has gravel stuck in his vocal chords.
"Takin' the piss outta me calling me this early in the mornin' Price," he grumbles.
"You can get your beauty rest later. I need a favor," John says, ensuring that his voice stays low so as to not stir the baby. "I need some time off."
"Time off?" Simon repeats. "From the family?"
"My girls need me."
Silence fills the line. There's the slight sound of rustling, like someone's moving sheets or a duvet.
"Take care of 'em. I'll keep your boys in line," Simon replies.
There's nothing more to say after that besides a quick thanks, and as soon as the line cuts, the baby decides she isn't quite done crying yet. John shushes her as he rocks her and sits forward in his seat, pushing himself to his feet shortly after.
"Time for breakfast, is it?" he asks. Despite the sheer exhaustion that rattles his bones, he still smiles down at his daughter even though her face is too twisted with her cries to see it. "Alright sweetie, it's okay. Papa's gonna fix you something to eat."
#mafia!price#mafia!141#john price x reader#price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader
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While theorising about the events to come in future seasons, I just keep going back to the question about who Mizu's parents really are.
So to try to figure it out, let's go over what we already know about Mizu's parentage and the white men. This info is from the flashback of Mizu as a baby in Episode 3, from the bounty hunters who came to kill Mizu in Episode 5, and from Fowler's reveals in Episode 8, assuming that everything he said is the truth.
Mizu must be someone important, as Fowler calls her Little Miss. It is capitalised in the Netflix official subtitles. This implies that Little Miss is something like a title, rather than just a nickname.
There is a bounty on Mizu's head with a sum few can resist. Whoever is trying to kill Mizu is rich and powerful.
Two men are sent to kill Mizu as a baby. They are Japanese. We know this because their swords are both katanas, and they're shocked when they see Mizu's blue eyes, discovering she's a "half-breed." Man #2 also calls her a "devil child" at the end of the flashback.
Man #2 is hesitant to kill her, as she's "only an infant," and ends up killing Man #1 to stop him from killing Mizu. Man #2 then gives Mizu to Mama, who is actually her maid.
Mama is paid to keep Mizu hidden. Mama does as told for years. We can infer that there was a steady stream of income going towards her, as she did as told until "the money ran out."
Skeffington and Routeley were the "worst" of the four white men, making their money from "selling Japan's unwanted daughters." Unwanted daughters like Mizu.
One of the white men "tried to burn Mizu alive as a baby."
One of the white men killed Mizu's mother ("Don't you want to know which one killed your mother?").
When bounty hunters came to the ranch to ambush Mizu, she asked them which white man they worked for. They only replied that the only white person they see is her. This could just be a way to avoid her question, or it could also imply that they do not work for a white man at all.
So from this, again assuming this is all true, let's go over some things:
The white men are NOT the ones who paid Mama to protect Mizu, as one of them had been responsible for trying to burn Mizu alive as a baby.
Mizu's mother was killed by one of the white men. She likely died protecting Mizu.
If it was the white father who tried to kill Mizu and her mother, then it's likely the mother's side who paid Mama to hide Mizu.
Mizu's mother must have been rich enough to afford servants.
Mizu's mother must have been someone powerful enough to have been in the shogun's inner circle, allowing contact between her and the white men.
Furthermore:
Mizu's mother should be someone tied to existing characters, to make the reveal of her identity more narratively significant.
So with all that said, let me dip my toes into wild theory-land for a bit and propose a new idea.
WHAT IF: Mizu's mother was a concubine or even the previous wife of the Shogun? And, considering how people have pointed out how similar Lady Itoh and Mizu look (credits to @roninzuzu in particular for her post on this), what if, maybe just maybe, Mizu's mother was also Lady Itoh's sister?
If this is true, then Mizu's connection to the shogunate would explain why and how Fowler knew so much about Mizu's past, especially regarding her maid taking care of her, etc. This is because Fowler is allied with the Shogun himself, as well as one of the shogun's closest advisors, Master Chiba. So if it were true that the previous wife/consort of the shogun gave birth to a blue-eyed baby, it would've been a big scandal that was certain to reach Master Chiba's ears, and he would have in turn informed Fowler about it.
If this is the case, both the shogun and the white man would be trying to kill Mizu and her mother. The shogun would be trying to cover up the scandal, while the white man would be furious that she wanted to keep the baby at all, as the scandal likely ruined his business dealings in Japan and forced him to retreat back to London or wherever else he came from.
But then, if that is the case, then who would have been the one paying Mizu's maid to take care of her? I think it's Lady Itoh. If she and Mizu's mother had indeed been sisters, perhaps Lady Itoh went behind the shogun's back to protect her sister and her baby niece. Because maybe Lady Itoh knew that Mizu's mother had wanted to protect her no matter what happened. In such a case, what kept Mizu alive would thus have been love. Her mother's love. In this scenario, Mizu would have been brought into the world through the sheer strength of her mother's unconditional love. This would be a very poignant message that overturns everything Mizu believes about herself.
Moreover, Mizu having connections to the shogunate would inevitably lead to her wanting to discover the truth about her mother's identity. This would thus bring Mizu back to Edo palace, and would neatly tie Mizu and Akemi's storylines together again, letting them cross paths once more and work together to face the main plot-conflict.
TL;DR it's my crazy theory that Mizu's dead mom was the sister of Lady Itoh and the previous consort of Shogun Itoh. She had an affair with one of the white men, and against her better judgement and against what everyone else wants from her, she decided to keep Mizu. By making this decision, she risked and sacrificed everything for Mizu, out of love.
#blue eye samurai#mizu blue eye samurai#blue eye samurai theory#I JUST WANT MIZU TO BE LOVED!!!#also i feel in my bones that the show is gonna be about motherhood#which would add up considering all the themes about otherness and heritage and identity and aaaaaaa#shut up haydar#fandom.rtf#cross posted on reddit
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The Color Blue - Chapter 1
image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest
Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.
Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage
Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!
Word Count: ~7.3k
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"Are you afraid of me?"
He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?
Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.
Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.
He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.
Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?
After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."
Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.
Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.
"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.
Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.
He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.
Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-
You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."
Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."
Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."
This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."
Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.
Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.
You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.
Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.
Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.
"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."
You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.
Silence once more.
He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"
"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"
Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?
Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.
You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-
Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.
You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.
But what he had called you...
It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.
You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.
Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).
Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?
Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.
Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.
He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.
Duty. 100% a duty.
He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.
Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.
He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.
But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.
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An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.
The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.
"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.
There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.
Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.
He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.
You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.
You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.
And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.
But first, he had to try to get through to you.
"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.
"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."
It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.
If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."
A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."
Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.
"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.
"I like music," you stated.
"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"
"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."
Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."
"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.
"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."
"Your garden is dazzling-"
"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.
You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.
After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"
You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."
Still nothing.
Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.
The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.
He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.
Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.
But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.
This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.
Or you might not talk to him at all.
Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.
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Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.
He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.
Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.
He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.
Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.
Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.
No sign of the person who cooked it, though.
Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.
Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.
You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.
Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.
He was tired of it.
"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."
"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.
"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."
That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.
A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.
You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.
"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.
It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."
Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...
He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-
"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.
"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.
His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.
Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.
And stayed for the rest of the day after.
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The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.
Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.
As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.
Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.
You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.
One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."
"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"
"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."
Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."
Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."
"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.
"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."
"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.
There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."
"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.
"Fine, I'll listen."
___________________________________________________________
That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.
"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.
"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.
"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.
You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.
Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."
"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.
"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.
A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.
He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.
Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"
You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.
Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.
"But I'm still-"
"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."
"My apologies-"
"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"
Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.
"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.
"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."
Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.
"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.
After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.
___________________________________________________________
Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.
He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.
Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.
Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.
It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.
He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.
Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...
"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"
"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.
"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-
"Satoru...?"
He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.
And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.
Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.
"Thank you... for taking care of me."
Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."
This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.
Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.
"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.
"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.
"Arao Kamo, sir."
Fuck.
___________________________________________________________
tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox
I love you guys
#isawritesshit#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#female reader#anime#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#arranged marriage#forced marriage#principal yaga#guys I did it
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so i'll take the nightshift
sebastian and his ex wife have a chat after the last weeks events
part one here
wc: 1.3k words
cw: absent father? again not intentional
It had been a week since you had admitted to both yourself and your daughter that you missed Sebastian. In that week, he had been at your apartment first thing on Monday morning to pick her up so that he could spend his week with her, since he had already missed her birthday - which was truly no fault of his own - he had vowed he would treat her like the princess you both knew she was for the whole week he was able to spend with her. You knew that Sebastian was a great father, in your daughter's eyes? The best - even if her mommy and daddy didn't live together, she knew that they both loved her with everything that they had. Your week without her had been peaceful enough, managing to get all the housework that needed done did before her arrival - But the silence that came with the lack of her had you deep in your thoughts, as you remembered your admittance of missing your ex-husband: You were hoping that she wouldn't relay what you had said to Sebastian.
You were sat on the couch, Sebastians throw blanket tucked around you - You couldn't bare to get rid of it after you had separated, everything else was fair game, but part of you didn't want Sebastian out of your life entirely, you still loved him and missed him dearly. Hearing the door knock, you paused the movie playing on the TV, your daughter had already walked in on you watching a horror movie before, and you would rather not want to go through that again. Keeping Sebastians blanket wrapped around you, you heaved yourself up off of the couch and shuffled to the front door, opening it and seeing your daughter asleep in her father's arms.
"Oh, hey," You greeted him, your heart stopping as you realised that this was really the first time you had come face to face with your ex since you had admitted missing him, the Monday past where he had picked her up, you had been too busy getting her ready to really have a minute to process your feelings.
"Hi, I don't know if she's pretending to be asleep or not but she's not waking up," He smiled at her and then you, and you returned the smile, remembering the days where she would be pretending to be asleep to get you or Sebastian to carry her into the house. "Can I come in?" Sebastian asked you, you nodded in response, stepping aside to let him come into your apartment.
"How was she?" You asked him, brushing her blonde curls out of her face as she slept peacefully in her father's arms. Sebastian smiled, he held so much love for the daughter that you and him had created and loved nothing more than getting to spend time with her - well, he loved one thing maybe a bit more.
"She was great, I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she wakes up, she's really talkative now, huh?" You chuckled at Sebastians words and nodded, you knew all too well how chatty your daughter could be, especially when she was excited or had something fun to tell you. You sighed as you realised that you couldn't deal with the conflict that you felt within you anymore, you needed to talk to Sebastian about how you were feeling, about how your daughter was feeling.
"Seb, can we talk?" You asked him, placing a hand on your daughter's small back and then looking up at Sebastian, who nodded in response to your question. "You can put her to bed if you want, her room is down the hall and to the left." He smiled and nodded, internally fighting the urge to place a small kiss on your lips like he would always do. You paced your living room as you thought of how to vocalise your feelings without bursting into tears.
"Is everything okay, Y/N?" Sebastian asked you, as he settled down on your couch and watched as you sat down beside him, playing with the bracelet that your daughter had made you. You sighed, knowing that if you didn't do this now, then you never would.
"(Name) missed you last week, she was devastated when you didn't make it to her party," You started telling him, your heart breaking as you remembered the heart break of your daughter as she told you of her upset at the absence of her father at her party. "And I had to tell her the same thing that I used to tell myself, that it was because this was your job and that you couldn't help it and then she said that she missed you and then I said-"
"That you miss me too," Sebastian cut you off, frowning as he looked at you. "She told me, I was putting her to bed and she told me that you were upset because you missed me." Your heart stopped as you sighed, rubbing your face.
"The worst part is that I mean it, Sebastian," You told him. "I miss you, but I don't miss you being gone all of the time, not hearing your voice for days because of the time differences, but now I have to make the same excuses I made for myself for you being gone to our daughter, Sebastian." Your voice was wavering and you knew that at any point, you would burst into tears and his next words would determine the possibility of that. He reached forward to hold your hand as he always did when he could tell that you were getting worked up, even separated, he still knew you so well.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm going to be retiring at the end of this season," He dropped the biggest bomb you had possibly ever heard. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him, you didn't understand - Sebastian loved his career, so why is he giving it up.
"What? Sebastian, you love racing," You voiced. Sebastian chuckled as he shook his head, still holding your hand in his.
"I do, but I love you and (Name) more, and I don't want to miss out on any more of our girl growing up," He told you, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you gained some sort of inkling where this was going - were you ready for this again? Was he being genuine? Of course he was. Again, even separated, you knew your ex well. "And I'm not expecting you to take me back straight away, I know me being gone so often really hurt you in ways that I could never imagine, but I would really like for us to try again. I still love you, Y/N. I think I always will love you."
You didn't even think over his offer of trying again before you threw yourself into his arms, craving the feelings of his touch after being starved of it for so long. You were getting your Sebastian back.
"I don't think I ever stopped loving you, Seb," You cried, looking into his eyes which mirrored your daughters perfectly. He laughed as he looked into yours, finding nothing but the woman he had loved since their first meeting, the woman who was the mother of his beautiful daughter, the woman he loved.
"Me neither, my love."
Maybe this time, things wouldn't be the same, but better.
note: idk whether I love or hate this pls give me some feedback to work with
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x platonic!reader#sebastian vettel x reader fluff#sebastian vettel x fem!reader#sebastian vettel x reader#dad!sebastian vettel#f1 angst#sebastian vettel x reader angst#sebastian vettel imagine#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel fanfic#sv5#formula one
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SUMMARY: In which you teach your daughter a very important life lesson.
PAIRINGS: Husband Jungkook x wife reader
WORDCOUNT: 640
WARNINGS : Fluff fluff !!
A/N: A very small Drabble while you wait for other Fics in my Wip…… and @jungk97kwife to help me with this Drabble ❤️….. I hope you all will like this one 🩷 . Inspired from this .
Exhaling a sigh, you see a very giggly Na-Eun in front of you sitting in her pink teddy bear-shaped cushion chair with a small Sanrio plushy in her hand and some heart-shaped marshmallows, it's been a while since you have taught your girl a very needed life lesson, but your baby seems in a very naughty mood.
Trying again you deepen your voice and speak “If a strange man says, Na-Eun lets go eat cookies, what will you say?” Hoping her to say “no” a loud cheer of "I like it" resounds the Hall. “No baby, you have to say no!”You tell her again and she beeps out a loud “No”.
Giving her a kiss on her cheek of praise continuing you then ask her to return to the deep voice… “If he says, let's go eat ice cream, what will you say?”wanting her to say no she wiggles on her seat which makes you a giggling mess at her antics she says “Good”
Face-palming you tell your baby to say no and a cute NO resounds again, hopping she will get the next one correct you go ahead with the next question “What if a stranger asks, let's go swimming?”eager to hear her a loud “No” is heard.
High-fiving her you move on for the last round before you both practice, taking out your phone, you get her ready and start asking her the same questions again and she answers them correctly until when you tell her you are going to send it to her dad, messing on the last one you don't stop recording and think you will just type out her being camera shy at the end.
“Good! Tell him, go away”Again teaching her something new she follows perfectly behind you and tells her to make a “whuh,whuh”action which she ends up raising her hands and making a “shoo away” motion.
Jungkook on the other hand amid an important meeting, felt his phone vibrate. He glanced at the screen, and upon seeing your name, he excused himself. He held onto the message just to reply with a ‘👍’, hoping you’ll understand that he wasn’t able to check it out
As soon as he was done with his meeting which stressed him out enough, he opened the video and the sight of his daughter on the screen immediately softened his expression. 'Maybe it was a great idea to leave the message for later’ he thinks in between himself as he admires the video, his heart-melting the second he senses her giggles.
He couldn’t help but feel full of pride, his little girl was growing up, learning important lessons, and handling them with such grace and confidence.
Of course, he was in awe of your patience too, something he was missing sometimes such as earlier during his meeting, and he felt a wave of appreciation for having such a wonderful companion in raising their child.
He quickly typed a response back, his fingers barely able to keep up with the rush of his thoughts.
KOOK❤️: Cute, so proud of her .
KOOK❤️: Doing an amazing job love ❤️
KOOK❤️: Don't teach her everything without me though.
He couldn’t help it, he shook his head in disapproval at himself, at the way he was feeling sarcastically jealous at the thought of you taking over the teaching.
KOOK❤️: Can't wait to get home to you.
And with that he’s back to his work, motivated again just because he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and come back to his family; cause every decision he made, every effort he put into his exhausting work was for his family only. And knowing he’s got an amazing companion at home who’s making sure his princess is growing up healthy, made him realize that all his hard work was worth it.
MOODBOARD
In which your about to give birth and jungkook won’t stop panicking
TAGLIST: @kimmingyuswifee @jksgirlhere @httpjeonlicious @bunnykoos @ohsweetmimosa @dragonflygurl4 @lovingkoalaface @snow-strawberry @jungkooks21 @jklvrs-world @aloverga @vsr4197 @skzthinker @kpop-nct @--xxchrissyxx-- @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @olimpiiaa @cassies-cookies @angelbiaa09 @ravynnn-12 @lovebtsforever24 @yuyupie @100butterfliesinthesky @starcandysstuff
Tag lists are still open send ask to join. :0
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts smut#jungkook x reader#jeon Jungkook#jungkook smut#bts jungkook#bts x you#jungkook#dad jungkook#bts x reader#bts jjk#jungkook dad au#jungkook fanfic#kpop smut#fluff#smut#bts fanfic bts smut
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Innocent act pt2, don't be a brat.
Ahh!! Thank u all for your love on innocent act!! Also, there will be a pt3 after this!! Read pt1 here , read pt3!
18+! MINORS DNI
Word count: 2k
Reblogs, comments, and likes absolutely make my day and are encouraged!
WARNINGS: age gap- Eddie is 30, the reader is 18+ Language, arguments, Eddie tells reader she’s acting like a child, pet names, dom!Eddie, Sub!reader, readers dad is a cop, spanking, fingering, face fucking, edging + over stimulation, degradation, degradation kink, praise kink, Eddie punishes reader for being a brat
Summary: after a fight with your dad, your brought over to Eddies house, where you end up arguing. Somehow the argument ends when Eddie decides he needs to do something about your bratty attitude.
Taglist: @thefreakofhawkins86 , @yaspillz
I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY WORK COPIED AND PASTED TO OTHER WEBSITES,
You sat on Eddie's couch pouting as he talked to your father at the door, you and your father had gotten into an argument only a few minutes ago.
“Make sure she doesn’t get out, she had a fake ID no telling what else she’s done.” You heard your father say from the door, “sad I can’t trust my daughter.” He yelled from the doorway.
“Don’t worry! I’ll watch her like a hawk, you and your wife go have fun tonight. It's deserved.” Eddie covered your father's view of you on the couch. A few more minutes go by and you hear the door almost slam shut.
“So, you wanna tell me what happened? Why you were escorted to my door at…” Eddie checked his watch “8 pm” you sigh, “I accidentally left my fake ID on the counter, and when I realized daddy had already found it.” you stood up, walking over to Eddie. “Then we fought…”
—-
Your father had busted into your room, demanding to know why your ID said 21 and not 18. “Because daddy! I wanted to get into the hideout to watch Eddie perform! They don't let eighteen-year-olds in!” Your father sighed loudly.
“You’re grounded” you stood from your bed quickly after hearing this “you can’t ground me! I’m eighteen! Almost nineteen! I’m a legal adult!” You almost yelled, stomping your foot down onto the Carpeted floor, almost in disbelief he would try and ground you!
“You still live under my roof, young lady! My word is law in this household, and I say you're grounded!” His voice raised to match yours, a screaming match bubbling to the surface “Now, your mother and I have a date, you can either walk yourself to Munsons or I can cuff, and escort you.”
—-
“And now I'm here…” halfway through your recount of the fight, you ended up in Eddie's lap on the couch. Legs were thrown over his, and head resting against his shoulder. “God, he's such an asshole. I turn 19 in a month! He can't ground me!”
Eddie makes a sound of disagreement, “technically, he can, I got grounded by cops all the time as a teenager.” you rolled your eyes, almost scoffing. “You mean arrested and put in jail.” Eddie grins, “same difference, doll.” you moved off his lap, standing in front of him. “You don’t agree with him, do you?” You questioned, Eddie hasn’t exactly stated which side he’s on.
“Do I think he’s overreacting? Yes, but mainly because I was doing way worse than using a fake ID at your age. Do I get where he's coming from? Also yes.” you groaned “you so agree with him!” “Hey now, I didn't say that.” “you implied it!” Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart-” you crossed your arms, raising your voice as anger bubbled up slowly. “No! Don't you sweetheart me!”
Eddie stared at you, almost surprised by your sudden outburst. “You complain about being treated like a child then decide to act like one, you're not helping yourself.”, you huffed “maybe I wouldn't act like a child if I wasn't treated like one! Both of you still treat me like one!” Eddie had to laugh at that, between the first time you had sex with each other and now, he doubts he's treated you like a kid.
“So by your definition, me treating you like a child is me fucking you stupid for months?” You stuttered slightly “w-well- that’s not what I meant and you know it!” Eddie grabbed your hips, pulling you between his legs, the smell of weed, tobacco, and cologne filled your senses. “Then give me an example of me treating you like a child.” You really couldn’t, you had only said it in the heat of the moment. Anger blinded you and now you’ve backed yourself into a corner.
So of course, you did the only logical thing you could, “fuck you” you mumbled quietly, praying he didn't hear you. Eddie could be fucking ruthless when he wanted to be. “I'm sorry what?” the grip on your hips tightened, and the cold metal of his rings dug into the skin exposed by your crop top. “I didn't quite catch that baby, what did you say?” you sighed, mentally preparing yourself for the punishment that will ensue. but since you decide to be a brat, might as well commit to the act.
“Fuck you, old man” you internally smirked at yourself, Eddie wasn’t that old, but his reactions, whenever you called him old, were priceless. Though right now, it’s going to earn a punishment. Eddie’s voice lowered, “Alright, just remembered you asked for this” Eddie pulled you in, maneuvering you to lay across his lap on your stomach, his hands pulling down the thin cotton of your pajama shorts and underwear. Eddie's jeans are rough against your bare thighs, he must’ve been getting ready for a show. You thought. Eddie's hand rubs the flesh of your ass slowly,
“Can't wait to see this cute ass all bruised up…” he talked darkly, Eddie loved making things difficult for you. He loved making it hard for you to sit, let alone walk. The first strike came down hard, making you yelp and jump slightly, he hadn’t bothered to take off the rings that adorned his fingers. “count.” Eddie said sternly, “one,” you said weakly. You would be a liar if you said, Eddie wasn't hot like this, you fucking loved when Eddie was mean and rough with you.
“Two!” you yelped, as Eddie's hand came down on your ass again, the strike was just as hard as the first. Eddie's hand soothed the soft flesh of your butt. “Look at you baby, actin all tough until I get you like this. A spoiled brat who just needed attention.” you could feel how wet you got at his words, maybe you are a little bit of a masochist because you definitely shouldn't have been getting off on this.
“Your bein mean, sir! M, not a brat!” you know you really shouldn't talk back, give him any more reasons to punish you but you couldn't help it. You were addicted to Eddie when he was like this. Eddie growled, giving your ass another smack “Oh no sweetheart, I’m being nice I could be a hell of a lot meaner and get my belt. spank you with that, make pretty little welts on your ass.”
Eddie gave you a total of 15 strikes. By the end, you were a sobbing, moaning mess, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy onto Eddie’s jean-clad thigh. “Pathetic slut…I’m trying to punish you, and getting off on it.” His fingers found their way to your pussy, pushing in slowly “your soaked doll, you enjoy being spanked that much?” He asked, slowly pushing his fingers in and out. You moaned and nodded, rocking back onto his finger, which surprisingly, Eddie didn't stop you. “Words pretty girl, words,” he told you, his fingers working in and out of you, the cold press of his rings against your cunt made you shiver.
“Yes! Love it when you spank me, sir,” you whined, praying he would let you off easy. Your back arched, you were quickly approaching your orgasm, his fingers found your G-spot quickly, zeroing in on it. “Yeah, all you needed was some attention, huh doll? Acting out because you just wanted me. There are better ways to get my attention doll.” Eddie dragged you close to the edge before ripping his fingers away from your leaking cunt. You whined at the loss, “Now I have to punish you, can't have my good girl thinking she can be bad.”
Eddie's finger delved back into your cunt again. This felt like it went on forever, being taken to the edge only to be ripped away again. Every so often Eddie would smack your ass lightly, your wetness on his fingers only added to the sting.
You cried the last time he pulled his fingers out.
“Think you can kneel, sweetheart?” you nodded, moving out of his lap and onto the floor.
Eddie spread his legs, giving you room to move in between them, you palmed at his erection, earning a groan from him. Your hands slowly unbuckled his belt, before quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them down just enough to free his cock. Wrapping a hand around his shaft you pumped your hand up and down slowly, thumb swiping against the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum over his length. His dick barely fit into your small hands. Eddie was big and thick, his size was a little intimidating if you were being honest.
But you pressed kisses to the head of his cock, and down his shaft, giving him small kitten licks when you could. Eddie's hand tangled in your hair, “c’mon baby, don't be a brat and tease, suck me off.” you kept eye contact as you took him into your mouth. You took him as far as you could without gagging, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock. Eddie groaned above you, praises falling from his lips as his grip tightens in your hair, guiding you to bob up and down on his cock. “Mmm, fuck just like that sweetheart, always feel so good on me.” He moaned.
“Wanna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours-” a sharp inhale left him as your tongue traced around a vein, “you gonna let me? Make you choke and gag on my cock, Maybe then you'll learn something.” you made a sound of approval, sending vibrations through his dick. “Fuck sweetheart- you still remember the safe word?” you nodded to the best of your ability and sent another round of vibrations to say you knew and remembered. One tap to slow down, two to stop.
“Goodgirl” was the only warning you got before Eddie snapped his hips into your mouth, keeping a firm grip on your hair to keep you in place. Eddie roughly thrusted into your mouth. “Shit,
Always a whore for me, letting me use you like my personal fleshlight- Fuck!” he groaned loudly, warmth and a bitter taste filling your mouth. You whined, pulling off his cock and opening your mouth. You had hoped he would've lost his control and cum inside of you, like always did. “Swallow, slut.” you closed your mouth and swallowed his cum. Hoping listening to his commands would earn you at least one orgasm.
“C'mere pretty girl.” he pulled you back up into his lap, capturing you in a needy kiss, his tongue slipped into yours while wandering hands found their way to your already bruised butt. A light smack to the sore skin had you moaning into the kiss. Eddie kneaded the flesh there, almost sorry for the bruises that'll sprout there. Almost. Eddie moved down to your neck, biting and sucking at the almost completely faded love bites. Creating more for you to cover up later. “I think you earned a reward, what do you think doll?” you nodded slowly “please sir, been s’good for you” You wish you could’ve seen the mischievous look on Eddie's face or the glint in his eyes.
Eddie moved you to straddle one of his thighs, “here's the deal sweetheart, you ride my thigh and you get to cum” you whined again, disappointment evident. “Brats don't get to cum on my cock, think about this the next time you decide to act up. Now you gonna ride my thigh and cum, or are you going to bed pent up?” when your hips moved slowly he chuckled darkly, the noise being sent straight to your pussy. “That's what I fuckin thought.”
Your clit rubbed harshly against his jeans. You looked down to where you had been kneeling and noticed a wet spot, you could already feel the bruises forming on your knees. You whined, tucking your face into Eddie's neck as you chased your orgasm. Feeling a damp spot starting to form under you from where your pussy was leaking. You were wetter than you had been before, Eddie was just so fucking hot when he was pissed off at you. Your hips fell into a steady rhythm as you quickly approached the edge, it didn't take long to build yourself up.
“Oh fuck- gonna cum Eds, please, please, let me come!” you moaned pathetically. Eddie shushed you “it's alright pretty girl you can come now.” His permission sent you straight over the Edge, your orgasm racking through your body, and a loud moan- practically a scream left you. Your hips stuttered to a stop, you were completely fucked out. “Did I say stop?” Eddie asked you “wha- what?” Eddie's hands wrapped around your hips, starting your rhythm back up again. “Oh did I not mention? You get to come over and over again!” Eddie exclaimed like that wasn't one of the most horrifying sentences you've heard tonight.
“Get ready sweetheart, you're not walking outta here tomorrow,” he mumbled as he gave you your second orgasm of the night. Which was only the beginning of the 6 more orgasms he would rip out of you
#eddie munson#eddie x female reader#dom eddie supremacy#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#stranger things#eddie deserved better#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x plus size reader#eddie munson x y/n#innocent act#eddie fucks#older!eddie munsonxwhore!reader#older!Eddie#Dilf!Eddie#Dilf!Eddie munson#daddy!eddie#lightvixxens eddie
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Isn't she lovely? -141
Based on a request:
simon riley who is a girls dad and his daughter comes home upset one day and very quiet. it goes on like this for the week but not only does he notice but his friends, the taskforce 141 as they are close with simon's family. they get super worried as she's usually happy and brings light into the room but now she's avoiding eye contact, speaking, and jokes. realize she's being bullied at school and they go to the school to "deal" with the situation and make this whole pink themed tea party to make her feel better.
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No mentions of reader, dad!ghost, fluff, uncles!141
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Task Force 1-4-1 is not just a badass team on the field with all those cruel people but also dads and the best uncles any kid could ask for. It's funny, they always joked about those stupid dates they were set up on or the way one of them was getting married and as the years go by they all retire one by one, finding themselves becoming one big family.
Today, at their monthly family dinner, Simon and his lovely wife find themselves hosting the dinner. Their two youngest kids running around with their cousins and Soap's wife, the most energetic aunt of all. "Where's the little one?" Price asks as the oldest child of the group was nowhere in the home. Usually, she'd sit near her uncles and they'd pamper her for being the first and favourite of all kids…but don't tell that to the others.
"School, my missus is picking her up," Simon says before taking a sip from his drink.
And once his pretty wife arrives, his daughter follows along. Her greeting to her aunts and uncles was dry, with no usual jokes or funny comments towards Uncle Soap's long mohawk.
"Wow..stop there, kid, come back," Gaz says but the 8-year-old ignores him.
It's fascinating how these so-called cold-hearted men have turned soft for their loves and little loves. So, if one of them is hurt, the guns and bombs come back just for a moment.
"What happened to 'er?" Soap asks Simon's wife and she sighs. "A boy in her class made fun of her leather jacket and pink dress, she's been like this since I picked her up," she says and Simons sighs in frustration. "Who is the kid?" Simon asks and his wife gives him a knowing look. Headmasters kid, of course.
"I'm going after that little shit," Simon says and as he gets up from the sofa, the other men follow along.
"Simon, no, don't do that-"
"My daughter is a cool kid, if she wants to wear a leather jacket like her dad and her pink dress then she will and that fuckin' kid won't make her question how cool she is," he says through gritted teeth.
The four men make their way to the school.
"Are they going to hurt a kid?" Price's wife asks. "Maybe the dad, but not a kid," Soap's wife says.
An hour later, more than they should've taken, the burly men come back. A small smile appears on the soft face of Simon's daughter. "Daddy!" She runs to him.
The four men wearing pink tiaras, pink fluffy tutus and even some pink shirt Soap found at the store. "Cool dads wear pink," the shirt says and although they were tight shirts, their wives have to admit, they look awesome wearing them.
Simon picks his daughter up, "Like my outfit princess?" he kisses her forehead. "It's like mine!" she smiles and Simon nods. "We were jealous that you had to outshine us this way, so…we had to outshine you," he smiles.
"Now, go get your hair up, we'll serve the boring people food and for us five…we'll hold a tea party before dinner," he smiles as he watches his precious daughter's face light up. There she is and her smile.
It was cute and funny, but beautiful enough to have pictures of this moment.
They were truly family men now and that's what anyone would wish for, even if it included tiaras and a sassy uncle.
At a small table, where their knees hit their chest, the four former SAS soldiers sat around, getting served tea and crumpets by a special little princess.
Tags:
@liyanahelena @uniquecroissant
#cod mw2#cod#mwii#ghost cod#cod 141#mw2 141#task force 141#call of duty#141#task 141#tf 141#modern warfare#dad ghost#cod fluff#cod modern warfare#cod mwii#cod fanfic#cod ghost#cod gaz#cod mw22#cod mwiii#cod price#cod soap#cod mw3#simon ghost riley#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwf2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty fanfic#call of duty mw2
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Hii, are gonna do a part 2 of “doomed” where they get together?
Doomed pt. 3
Tim Bradford x rookie!reader
Warnings/Tags: fluff, hurt, angst, unspoken feelings, Grey raging
Word count: 2.197
Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! (I'm sorry it's so late!) Not a part 2, but a part 3 for you! Hope you'll like it anyways!
Also, this isn't entirely proof read yet!
Enjoy!
Did he even breathe?
Looking at Tim through your peripheral, you knew he thought the same.
Grey was raging on, talking without breathing.
Soon he'd suffocate, you were sure of it. Luna would have a heart attack, when he would die because of you - because you were dumb enough to be caught by him.
It wasn't even your fault, really.
It was Tim's.
At least that's what you told yourself.
"And I will not be the one who will take the brunt when one of you dies, because you were too busy making love eyes to notice a threat!"
Maybe you should have just told him - at least that's what Grey thought to himself, as he yelled at one of his best officers and his rookie.
Who were sleeping with each other.
He mentally flinched, not wanting to think about it too deeply.
"You are responsible for her training!" he continued, pointing at Tim who had his hands at his sides, trying to just get past this.
He had never felt this uncomfortable in his life before - at least there wasn't much that compared to this situation.
"How do you think will others judge when they learn about your relationship? Do you think they will see her ratings fit? Or will they think you rated her better, because you-" he had to stop himself, or else it would have gotten out of hand - though you all knew, what he wanted to say.
Because you are sleeping with her.
Your career would be ruined, if the right people found out. No one would want you to work for them, never fully trusting you.
As the tears welled up in your eyes, you tried your best to suppress them.
Grey was right, and he had every right to be angry.
"This will have consequences!" he continued, finally taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself, for the sake of his heart.
His wife would have killed him, if he dared to have a heart attack - especially when she was currently trying to convince him to retire.
Maybe he should have.
"You will be replaced as her TO - that's the least I will have to do. Other than that, this conversation will never, and I mean never, leave this room. If anyone asks why you were replaced as her TO, you tell them that you don't know."
His eyes wandered from Tim to you, his head shaking in disappointment.
Never would he let you forget this day.
"I can't believe that this happened right under my nose and I didn't notice it." he spoke a little quieter, before his voice rose again. "And I would have never expected such behavior from you, of all people, Bradford!"
Tim swallowed, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. He didn't know what to say, guilt making his tongue heavy as lead.
Grey grumbled to himself, sitting down in his chair. He sighed in exhaustion, wiping over his face with his hand.
"I know I'll regret it later." he began, putting his head in his hand with his elbow on the armrest, as he looked up at you.
You two stood straight as sticks, and for a moment Grey had to smirk inwardly.
"Are you in a relationship or do you plan to be in one?" The same moment he voiced his question, he regretted it. His daughter would have probably told him how embarrassing he was.
Did he want to do the talk now, too?
Your eyes widened, looking at Tim in shock. His gaze was fixed somewhere behind Grey, jaw clenched.
It had been a few months now, since you regularly started to sleep with each other. You couldn't deny that you had become attached, having gathered feelings for him.
But did he feel the same?
Biting your cheek, you looked away.
Of course he wouldn't.
"Okay..." Grey mumbled, scratching his chin, as he leaned back in his chair. "I will still tell you what will await you anyway, in case you decide to be in a relationship somewhere in the future."
He shook himself inwardly, one eye twitching, as he tried to stay as professional as possible.
"I hardly advise you to work separate. Like I said, if one of you dies because you aren't focused on the task at hand, the other will pay the consequences. The LAPD doesn't like it, when two of their officers are in a relationship and in the same unit. It's a risk the intern doesn't want to take."
You simply nodded, swallowing against the lump in your throat.
What other choice did you have anyway?
Grey nodded to himself, not happy his evening had been ruined. Luna would be furious if she knew how close he had been to having a heart attack.
"And now go home. Your shift is over, anyways."
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, you nodded, heading out of the office. You had been lucky the blinds had been closed, otherwise the whole LAPD would have witnessed that conversation.
You didn't look at Tim, as you made your way to the locker room, biting back the emotions trying to take over.
The Mexican food you wanted to order at his place, would be cancelled now, your whole evening ruined.
You really should have looked better if anyone was near, before you talked about private things.
Seriously, how could you miss Grey?
He had seen how close you seemed, after parking the shop, Tim's hand almost brushing yours as he leaned closer to talk into your ear.
This one gesture had spoken more than a thousand words to him.
And it was exactly the reason, why Tim avoided to talk about his private life.
Or show it, for that matter.
But he had a moment of weakness, your flirtatious behavior over the day constantly turning him on.
He really should have known better.
His eyes scanned the parking lot for you, trying to make you out in the dark. He spotted your car, seeing that you weren't there yet, as he made his way over to it.
He decided to wait, fingers drumming on the strap of his backpack, as you left the station.
Fumbling for your keys, you didn't notice him at first, only when you almost stood in front of him.
Blinking a few times in confusion, your cheeks heated up. "What do you want?" you asked, inhaling shakily. "We should talk." he gave back, shifting his weight.
Brows furrowed, you looked at him. "If you want to end things, then just say it, Tim." you told him, trying to act nonchalant about it, even if your heart broke at the possibility of him ending whatever it was you two had.
"Wh- No!" he responded a little too fast, taking a step forward with his mouth agape. "I mean- If you want to end this, then I'll stay away from you."
Eyes widening, you felt how they burned from tears again. Of course you didn't want to end this.
Shaking your head, you told him exactly that.
"I don't want to end this." you spoke, taking a step forward as well, all the while feeling Grey's gaze burning holes in your back, even if he wasn't even near.
"But I don't think we should continue on like this. Grey is right, what we're doing is risky." you continued, sighing heavily. "We're jeopardizing our careers, risking to lose our jobs. Or at least risking our credibility and the trust they have in us. I think it's better, that he replaces you as my TO."
Your words struck something deep inside him, making him swallow. On one side he thought you were right - if he continued being your TO, though not able to keep his hands from you, your career would have been over, before it even started.
On the other hand, he feared that he'd lose you.
"If you want to keep this up, what do you mean we shouldn't continue on like this?" he wanted to know, the crease between his brows deepening.
"Are you breaking up?"
The words had left his lips, before he had a chance to properly think about it. His cheeks burned up, and he was thankful that you weren't able to see it in the dim light of the parking lot.
Your mouth opened, but you weren't able to utter a single word, only staring at him. Chuckling uneasily, you shook your head.
"Breaking up postulates there's something to break up." you told him, voice small. You didn't want him to see the heartbreak in your eyes, so you averted them.
"We're not together - there is nothing to break up."
He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly way too dry. His heart seemed to be in an iron grip, pumping ice crystals through his veins.
He hated the way you said it, the way you sounded so broken.
"Grey is right." he muttered bitterly, nodding to himself, as he took a step backwards. Your eyes snapped back to his, following his movement.
"We shouldn't do this. The LAPD doesn't approve of it and we only risk our jobs. You're right, we shouldn't continue this."
He turned around and started to walk away, your heart breaking as he did. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt as if you couldn't breathe.
"Tim!" you called out, voice shaking, as you practically jumped after him, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking further away from you.
He stiffened, but didn't turn around. He only stopped, with your hand still on his arm. Inhaling shakily, you braced yourself for your next words.
"I don't want to break up." you softly spoke, one of the tears managing to free itself. Biting your lip, you shook your head. "I don't want to let you go - I can't."
He slowly turned around to you, giving you the chance to take your words back.
But you didn't.
Staring straight back at him, you stood your ground. That you were still at the almost empty parking lot, wasn't important anymore.
Neither were the people that could walk out of the station at any moment.
"If I have to do more tests, have another TO, then so be it. But I don't want to lose you, Tim."
More tears rolled down your cheeks, betraying your aching heart. Your emotions were on display for him to see, and you weren't planning on backing down.
He took a shaky breath, mouth slightly open. He didn't know what to say - hell, he wasn't even sure what you were trying to say. Had you fallen for him? As much as he had fallen for you?
"Hate me, abandon me, whatever you want." you told him, wet lips pressing together, head shaking. "But I can't act like I don't have feelings for you, any longer. Yes, it can cost us our jobs, or just mine, since you're one of the best officers here, but I'm willing to take that risk. Let Grey be angry, shout at us or transfer me when im a p2 - I don't care."
He was speechless, a rare sight.
Swallowing, he took a step closer. "What are you trying to say?" He had to know, had to hear it one more time, in case he had misunderstood you.
"I'm saying that I have feelings for you, that I have fallen in love with you, Tim." you brought over your shaking lips, heart racing as you were nervous how he would respond to your confession.
He huffed, amusement and relief hugging him like a warm blanket. Honestly, he hadn't known how he'd reacted, if you'd pushed him away for real.
His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you into his embrace, as he exhaled slowly. Hugging him back, your cheek rested on his chest, hearing his heart race.
"I have feelings for you, too." he confessed, smiling into your hair. "Fuck the LAPD and their opinion. I have the sergeant exam in my pocket, if they want to punish us, I'll find another station, maybe I'll even go to the metro."
You couldn't help but laugh quietly at him, knowing he'd do it.
"Go out with me." he spoke, looking down at you, after you separated, his hands on your upper arms.
Smiling, you sniffed, face still tear stained. "I'd love to." you agreed, nodding to underline your words. He smiled back, before his hand wrapped around your shoulder, walking you towards your car.
"Are we still getting Mexican tonight?" he asked, a smirk playing at his lips. Rolling your eyes, you nodded with a grin.
"I'll get us a table." he told you, sending you a wink, as you gaped at him, stopping at your car. "I know the owner."
Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile. "Okay." He nodded, smiling right back.
As Tim told you he'd pick you up in an hour, Grey smiled to himself.
He'd been watching your interaction through a window, secretly happy about your smiling faces, as his wife caught him stalking you two, hitting his arm in warning.
"Wade!"
<- Part two
Tag List
@laheysfilm
@newobsessionweekly
#the rookie#the rookie imagine#the rookie x reader#the rookie x u#tim bradford#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x you#tim bradford imagine#imagine
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Hello! I don’t know if you do this but I was wondering what your thoughts were for a Yandere Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel? I’m having trouble writing a good representation of him and would like some advice.
Honestly I'm gonna humble myself and say that it took reading someone else's post to make me like, REALLY notice the nuances of Lucifer's character
This post right here literally made me rewatch his scenes and go "oh wow he IS like DANGEROUSLY DEPRESSED"
He doesn't remember Charlie told him where she is, or what she's doing, and he can barely follow a conversation despite clearly trying to pay attention. He also just seems kind of scattered, and um, HE LITERALLY MAKES A JOKE ABOUT DYING FROM FALLING OFF THE HOTEL BALCONY like dude is making jokes about death in front of his fucking daughter, like my dudes, I think this guy is BARELY holding himself together
He clearly loves loves LOVES Charlie but he doesn't really know how to properly articulate himself and I have a feeling there's a lot he's concealing from her, and another big question is, is his depression from being cast out of Heaven, or from something to do with his missing wife, or a combination of both? Either way this man is clearly dealing with like, really bad issues. And Charlie also mentioned he wasn't around a whole lot when she was younger, so... did he have depression back then too?
So, that all said, I feel like a yandere Lucifer would almost be, potentially invigorated by his darling? Given a new lease on life? He may not be 100% his old self again but, you get him to like, 65, maybe 70% on a good day. You give him another reason to get out of bed in the morning, or afternoon, or evening or, whenever he can drag his depressed ass out of bed
Given what we currently know, I feel like a romantic yandere Lucifer would pretend to only be platonic and do his best to poorly conceal his feelings because of his whole... "can't ask his missing wife if it's ok for you to be their third" ordeal, the man still wears his wedding ring, and a platonic yandere Lucifer basically adopts you like another kid, because uh, I mean for one he apparently canonically missed a lot of Charlie's childhood, and he's also an ancient fallen angel, so he's got that age advantage on you no matter how old you are. I mean what are a few decades when he's literally thousands upon thousands upon thousands--you get the idea
Yandere Lucifer would want to stay close to you, helping watch over you, maaaaaybe being overly paranoid about you randomly disappearing and going missing For Very Obvious Reasons, and in the process he winds up being unintentionally overbearing. I mean, he did it in irritation, but he basically showed up at Charlie's hotel immediately saying it was a dump and all of HER FRIENDS were 'a bunch of losers'. He never completely pulls his punches when there's something he's displeased with, even if it has something to do with someone he loves, so his darling would get much of the same treatment. "Ohhhhh, you uh, you wanted to move across the city? That's, um, definitely a fun idea! BuuuuuUuuut, what IF, instead of doing that--", like, he tries to playfully tug you in 'the right direction' until you make him put his foot down
Hmmm... what would him losing his cool look like... well, we've already seen that he doesn't mind throwing hands and WILL KILL, but will stop if he's asked to or there's a good reason. With you, though, you're not typically going to be there to stop him from offing any rivals or bad influences, so I imagine he'd be kinda casual about it, actually! He already thinks pretty lowly of Sinners, so say he finds out you've been ditching him and Charlie to go out drinking with strangers, making new friends, maybe having a few one night stands? Yeah, some of those people definitely aren't calling you back, and Lucifer doesn't really see a problem with it. These people are kind of the worst and really don't deserve you, anyways! If anything he's helping clean up Hell for you and his daughter and keeping you safe :)
Losing his cool with YOU... I think would involve him using his powers to finally confine you, maybe even going demon mode to intimidate you into submission in a very dad-esque "now you listen HERE" kind of way. We don't really know the scope and scale of his powers but I can picture him at least being, obviously much stronger than he looks, and transforming to fly you "back home" where he puts you in your room where no one can reach you without his explicit permission (and you also can't leave~)
One second you're just drunk and jokingly defying him, teasing him, maybe even picking him up and swinging him around because you're bigger than him, to you he's just a silly little guy! Meanwhile this Grown Ass Man Who Is Also The Actual Devil is getting more than just a little frustrated you basically view him as a wacky little cartoon more than a grown man, one who has had sex and has had two wives and sired a child. You're just teasing him and stumbling around drunk when he's trying to get you to your hotel room to get to bed to sleep, like you're clearly not taking him seriously, maybe even playfully putting your hands on him (TOTALLY not riling him up in 'fun' ways) and he finally just huffs and snaps his fingers and, you're suddenly magic'd to bed! You're laying there blinking confused and he's tucking you in and chuckling that "you're such a handful!" before leaving you to sleep and somehow INSTANTLY knowing when you're up.
You ARE in his house, after all...
Not to be gross but uh..... I'm not saying "yandere Lucifer who has the power to still get a Sinner pregnant if he wanted to and you wind up fooling around with him and you're waking up with his little apple symbol on your lower tummy as one of those like hentai womb tattoos to show you're pregnant" but uhhhhhhhhhhyeah that's what I'm saying, and whether it was accidentally or intentionally, he's keeping it, and thus, keeping YOU
I just feel like he'd be very goofy and awkward and bad at hiding his feelings and being very clearly overprotective and jealous in ways everyone else but you manages to pick up on (god Alastor would have some MATERIAL) and, in a romantic/sexual setting he eventually just loses his patience with you not seeing him as a man and just gets... progressively more forward. You pop back into the Hotel after a night out and Lucifer's already hammered at the bar with Husk, stumbling up to you, hanging off of you, slurring and embarrassing himself, "You'reeeee SO pretty... like SO pretty.... do you wanna have *BELCH* you wanna fuck? Cause I LOVE to fuck, like when I FUCKED my wife to make my DAUGHTER, my wife and daughter that I have, 'cuz im a DAD, 'cuz I'm a MAN!" and you're just giggling and ruffling his hair, "You're so weird, dude ^^" and walking away while Lucifer internally screams, wondering just how DIRECT with you he's going to have to be
meanwhile Charlie is totally cool with all of this and sees this as a weird double whammy of Curing Dad's Depression + new family member and friend hurray! and she's totally actively either shipping you with her dad or aiding and abetting him in his weird attempts to absorb you into the Morningstar family
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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝. — 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.
18+. Smut. Cheating. Affairs. Dilf!Anakin. Female Reader | AFAB!Reader. Age gap. Minor sexist remarks. Tit sucking/play. | Word count: 1.2k (not proofread!)
This is a draft from like May 2023. I don't remember why I never finished it but here it is. Can't believe it's almost a year old.
"Could you stop staring at them?" You ask with a frown, rolling up the car window. Anakin’s blue eyes hold a lustful intensity as they admire your bare tits, bringing his hand to his lips to remove the cigarette and exhaling the smoke outside the parked vehicle.
"They're pretty," Anakin smirks, tired eyes almost glowing under the dim street lamps of the empty road. You have no clue where he brought you, but then again— you don’t ask too many questions about Anakin. "You have bigger tits than my wife."
"Ugh, you're fucking disgusting" You roll your eyes, looking away so he can’t see the ghost of a smile on your lips. As mean and hypocritical the compliment is— something about being approved under the eyes of a man who could easily be your father makes your stomach twirl.
“It's true,” Anakin continues pushing through, well aware that with enough sweet talk, you’ll fall under his claws… even his definition of ‘sweet talking’ leaves much to be desired. “Plus, yours are still intact, you know.”
“Meaning?”
“Kids, idiot. Your tits don’t have stretch marks or are saggy,” Anakin replies as if it wasn’t obvious. The comment makes you give him a dirty look. Age won’t take the sexist tendencies.
“I think stretch marks are hot” You reply with a mindless shrug. “You have stretch marks on your lower back.” Anakin rolls his eyes, flicking the burnt cigarette outside the window.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?” He bites back, looking outside for a moment to hide the smirk on his lips. It’s hilarious how similar you two can be sometimes. Anakin throws the cigarette pack back in the cup holder and turns around, leaving one hand on the steering wheel and returning his eyes to your tits.
But you saw his little smirk anyway.
He considers smoking another one, but he can already imagine the lecture from his wife about the smell and he already showered this morning so he doesn’t want to sleep with damp hair. Anakin notices how you twist your shirt on your lap, playing with the seams and the tag. You are nervous, which isn’t something unrealistic when you are with him. He can be so unpredictable and the whole thing of “having an affair with a married man who is old enough to be your father” already gives you enough of adrenaline and anxiety; Sometimes Anakin asks himself how the affair started, when did it changed from lingering looks and polite smiles to fucking you in the couch, after knowing you his whole life as the neighbor’s daughter who grew up playing dolls with Leia and hide and seek with Luke.
It has been a couple of minutes since he asked you to remove your shirt, not really touching you, maybe edging you by waiting for his next move. Sneaking with Anakin is always like this. Finding a cheap motel every four days or so— because God forbids you to go to the same one three times in a row, that could be suspicious— eating some greasy takeout in the parking lot and then wandering around the streets. It may look that Anakin is prolonging the “date”, but you know better. He just dreads driving back home, he dislikes going back to his so-called perfect family. You know things are terrible under the tall, well-built roof. You hear it from him, read Leia’s texts, and wait for her when she has to stop his parents from arguing. Perhaps you are tangling yourself too much with the broken family… or tangling too much with his dick in your mouth and his fingers between your legs.
Your window is closed but not his. Outside isn’t particularly cold but you are shirtless. Your nipples are hard and sensitive and Anakin seems to enjoy the view. You can see the outline of his erection, choosing not to point it out. “Can I put my shirt on? I don’t want to die of hypothermia.”
“No,” Anakin simply answers.
He doesn’t break eye contact with your chest when he speaks, as if he is in a trance. His hand cupped your left breast, not the gloved one that you know his wife hates, no— the flesh one, the one that is warm all the time. You relax under his touch, already used to being groped at any time. It’s oddly comforting. Or maybe it is the feeling of being desired.
Closing your eyes, you sigh, content with the minimal contact. A few seconds later his right hand joins and he is now freely palming your breasts, squeezing them softly, and rubbing your perky nipples with his palms. You don’t get why his wife hates his leather glove so much. Or is it the mechanical hand underneath? You would never know, nor you wish to— You can’t even bring yourself to think about anything else right now. His fingertips, calloused and rough pinch the tender nubs making you moan.
He intercalates the groping and the pinching, taking his sweet time until you are breathless. Anakin can be patient when he wants to, not when he needs to. The constant teasing makes you press your thighs together, already turned on by his harsh touch.
Anakin continues torturing you until you are panting, closing your eyes and arching your back every time he pulls them softly. He even bounces them a little, licking his lips. He always knew he loved tits, but yours were his absolute favorites.
“Recline your seat” Anakin murmurs.
“What?” You snap out of your weak daze, looking at the older man with half-lidded eyes.
A deep chuckle bounces inside his car, you never cease to amaze him. “Brainless bitch,” He says with a tone that could be mistaken for affectionate. Anakin removes his hands much to your dismay, shaking his hand and clicking his tongue when you whimper in protest. “Shut up.” Reaching his hand towards your side, he pulls the lever of your seat. Reclining it and making you gasp. Your eyes meet the ceiling just in time for him to lower his face, attaching his mouth on your left nipple and sucking.
Your hand instantly touches his hair, running your fingers through the silky sea of blonde and gray. How can be so handsome in his late 40s? Only God knows. He sucks and bites, enjoying it a little too much. Anakin wouldn’t be Anakin if he doesn’t leave a couple of hickeys and bites, and you can’t complain. Seeing them the next morning when you get ready for school is always a blessing… and a gloomy reminder of the twisted relationship you are involved in— if you can even call it a relationship.
“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, lifting his head and licking his lips.
You check your phone on the pull handle. “9:48, why?”
“My wife should be asleep. Look for another motel,” Anakin cradles your face, guiding your face towards his and kissing you, sliding his tongue between your lips and making you moan weakly from just a kiss. That’s the type of effect he has on you. “And call your parents, tell them you will be staying over in a sleepover with Leia.”
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