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scar-lie · 2 days

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The remaining of you [Natasha]

Summary : Dealing the aftermath of the scene Natasha dreaded to come sooner in her life

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader, Mom ! Natasha x Daughter! Romanoff

Warning : shouting, crying, mention of death, scared little Romanoff, torture, nightmare, I thinks that's

Word count : 2,514

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

“What is your problem, Nat?! You can't just drop her off just like that, like she's nothing.” Wanda screamed at the red head, whose head was low, taking a deep breath and placing her hands on the table in the kitchen.

"Wanda, please, not now,” Nat whispered, swallowing the lump on her throat. But Wanda’s not having any of her shits anymore; she's tired of seeing how the little redhead heart broke every time Nat refused to do anything with her.

"No, Natasha, I’m not gonna let you throw her like garbage anymore; enough was enough; that girl is trying to at least have your attention, even for a second, but you always rejected her; you don't even spare her even a glance, and it broke her heart.” Saying Wanda was furious was an understatement. She took the girl under her wings a week when Natasha and Yelena brought her in, seeing how the baby was craving some affection and skin-to-skin contact.

"Wanda, please, it's not that easy.” Natasha was thankful that most of the Avengers are on mission and some run their own errands, leaving her, Wanda, and the 5-year-old girl in the compound.

“What Natasha? It is not easy for you to show a little affection to your daughter. You have 3 years, Natasha, 3 years to pull yourself together, 3 years that she's under my wings to protect, to love, admire, care for, and to be a mother to her. She's just a little girl, Natasha, and she's craving her mother's attention. Why can't you give her that? ”Natasha saw the hurt in her eyes, and she knows that it's not only Wanda's emotion she's showing but also the little girl too.

“I want to, Wanda, ok, I really do, but I can't, ok, I just can't,” Natasha shouted, looking up at Wanda with tears in her eyes.

“I want to cuddle her, kiss her, bond with her, spoil her, sing to her, or tell her story. I want to be Wanda. I really want to be a mother to her, but I just can't…….I-I” Natasha shook her head, wiping her tears that were now falling. She knew how her daughter was hurting; she heard every cry; she knew she always knew.

“Then do it; love her; show her that she matters to you because she will not love you or be there bothering you for your attention forever. Don't take her for granted, Natasha; you have a precious girl who loves you more than life itself; don't waste it.” Wanda stands tall in her spot, getting strong for the kid and not cave in and comforting her; she has to do it for the sake of the little girl who's sleeping upstairs.

“Don't let your insecurities get the best of you again; don't push her away like you did with Y/N; if you really love Y/N, you will take care of that little girl you two made; don't let history repeat itself.” Wanda quickly got cut off by Natasha's sudden outburst, with tears streaming down her face.

“You wanna know the reason why? Huh? That's the reason why I can't look at her; I can't be with her because every time I look at her face, all I can see and think about is Y/N, how she lay in that fucking bed unresponsive, how I didn't protect them, that I let her alone with an open window for my enemies to attack freely, and I blame myself for what happened, because if I could just be brave and don't let these thoughts get the best of me, I should have been there to protect them, or I should be the one laying in my own fucking blood, not her.” Natasha then punched the cabinet beside her, wanting to let the emotions out.

“I can't, Wanda, ok, because that day keeps flashing in my mind when I look at her eyes. She reminded me of how stupid, reckless, and selfish I am. Because of me, her mother got killed, and she got kidnapped right after she was born.” Wanda frowned, looking at Natasha with sympathy, so Natasha shook her head, not wanting her pity.

"Don't, Wanda, please don't look at me like that; I don't need your pity, Wanda.” They quickly got interrupted with the cute little voice in the entrance of the kitchen, making both of them look up in the direction.

“Auntie Wanda? ”The little girl whispered, clutching her big husky dog stuff toy that's a little big and taller than her, looking at her auntie with doe teary eyes, pout lips, and her cheeks and tip of her nose are red until she saw the redhead in the room, making her feel small and want to hide, so she scooted to the side, trying to hide in the small cabinet, only the head peeking out to look at her auntie Wanda.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened? Why are you hiding there? ”Wanda softly talked, walking to the scared little girl, and sat on her heels to be on the same level as the little girl. She quickly wrapped her arm around her auntie, sniffling, and still had a strong grip on her stuff toy, so Wanda took her in her arm, one hand rubbing her back while she cried and one arm under her bump, and swayed her back and forth to comfort the little girl.

“I-I had a bad dream,” the little girl mumbled, soaking her aunt’s shirt.

“What dream is it? Can you tell Auntie Wanda what a bad dream it is? ”She nodded, looking at her auntie and wiping her tears, then resting her head on her auntie's shoulder while playing with the neckline of Wanda's shirt.

“I-I saw blood and bad guys,” Wanda giving her a reassuring smile to continue.

“And……and they took and I saw this fat old guy; he-he said I-I would stay with him from now on, and-and I saw dead body besides him,” the littleredhead cried again, seeing the woman lifeless, not knowing it's her mother she saw.

“Is it the same old guy and the same woman you saw?”Wanda asked softly, looking at Natasha, who has a defeated look on her face and a mixed emotion. She truly can't read Natasha at the moment.

“Yes, the beautiful woman with Y/H/L Y/H/C and arrow necklace, then the guy has glasses and white hair.” This makes Natasha clench her jaw and fist, knowing who the person her daughter is talking about, and she's afraid that the scene is that night her world will stop.

"Shhh, it's ok, sweetheart. You're here with me. You're safe now. He's not going to take you. It's ok.” Wanda gives Natasha a small smile, then goes up to their room floor to comfort the little girl and put her to sleep, leaving Natasha alone in the kitchen with her thoughts.

Natasha is jealous of Wanda. Yes, she's jealous of how Wanda can naturally take care of her daughter, how she loves Wanda, and how they both bond and do everything together. She's pretty jealous because she wanted a daughter; that's her one dream—a daughter with you.

So Natasha goes to the gym again to get all of her frustration out of her body and mind, to block everything that's bothering her, and maybe, just maybe, it will block the nightmare she has had since your death.

"No, no, please, don't hurt her. You got me, ok, hurt me instead. Just please don't hurt them,” Natasha begs the faceless woman in charge of guarding her. She's strapped down to the chair in the corner of your room where you're peacefully sleeping with your 8-month pregnant belly. You look peaceful and gorgeous.

But all the begging is useless because four women enter the room, and Dreykov is mockingly smiling at her. She hates it so much, but she didn't think of that; her mind and eyes are in your sleeping body.

When the four women approach you and the three women pin you down, it makes you awake in panic. They made sure you didn't move much, and the other one proceeded to slit open your stomach, making two big cuts, one horizontal and one vertical.

This makes you scream in pain, with tears running down your face because of the unbearable pain you are experiencing. You can feel her hands moving through your insides, slicing you open. You tried to break free to save you and your daughter from them, but you are no match for them; they are strong and can kill you in a second.

“NOOOOO!!!! PLEASE STOP IT! Please, please, I’ll do anything. Stop hurting her, stop hurting them.” Natasha screams, trying to break free from the restraints to try and save you both, but all she can do is watch you suffer from the hands of Dreykov, where she also watches how he takes her right after they cut the umbilical cord.

She watched how they just left you laying in your own bed, bleeding and unable to move or breathe. She watched how life drained out of your eyes, how the color of your skin turned pale, but how you looked at her in the eye while you were dying.

“Y/N? No please, no don't leave us please, no no noo please, no don't take my baby away no please.” Natasha keeps screaming, crying, and begging, but it's all no use; your dead in front of her, eyes still open, and your daughter is taken away. She's left there in the chair, feeling every pain.

“Wake up, wake up, Ms. Romanoff,” the little red head shouted, shaking Natasha violently. The other few attempts she made to gently wake her up didn't succeed, so she shook and slapped her to wake up.

“NOOOOOOO! ”Natasha screams, sitting up, beads of sweat rolling down on her face while she's panting, looking around the room until her eyes land on the little redhead who's now on the floor barefoot, head down, and nervous.

She got scared when Natasha suddenly jolted up, thinking that Natasha would hit her or shout at her, so she quickly climbed down, head low and nervous, so she kept taking small steps backward.

This didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, so she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and Wanda's words kept echoing in her ear: “She will not love you or be there bothering you for your attention forever. Don't take her for granted, Natasha.”

And seeing her own daughter get scared and afraid to be near her is heartbreaking. She knows that sooner or later, her daughter will slip away, so she quickly gets out of bed, going to her daughter, but the little girl quickly backs away when she hears her footsteps.

So Natasha stopped, kneeled down, and carefully reached her arm out with a small smile. This made the redhead look up at the hand and up to her mother's face. Seeing a small smile made her butterfly fly in her stomach, but she was still skeptical; she didn't know Natasha, so she kept staring at her outstretched hand.

“Hey, it's ok, I’m not going to hurt you or scream,” Natasha softly said, making eye contact with her daughter. This brought her to tears, seeing your face on her daughter even though she had Natasha’s fierce red hair, green eyes, and button nose, so she quickly wiped it away for her sake.

“Wh-why are you crying?”Little Redhead asked, stepping forward and reaching out to wipe away the tears that keep running down her face, so Natasha chuckled to cover up the crack in her voice.

“Nothing; I-I’m just happy and sad at the same time,” she said, giving the little redhead a genuine smile. She was happy that she got how caring you are.

“Can I give you a hug? ”She asked innocently, making Natasha admire her, analyzing every detail on her face, and the silence made the little girl a little bit nervous, thinking that she didn't want hugs.

“Auntie Wanda said if I saw someone's sad, I should ask if I could give them a hug, ca-cause Auntie Wanda said it always works because my mommy used to do it before.” This makes Natasha even fall in love deeper with the little girl, so she quickly hugged her daughter tight, but not too tight to hurt her.

The little redhead smile, wrapping her arms around Natasha, resting her head on her shoulder, happy that she gets to hug her momma for the first time, so she’s relishing this moment, afraid that in the morning she will ignore her again.

“Are you feeling better? ”She asked innocently, so Natasha nodded, cradling her to her arm, and sat at the end of the bed.

“Yes, yes, I am.” Natasha sat the little girl on her lap and looked at her face.

“You look so much like your mother.” The little girl blushed, smiling and getting a little shy at the compliment.

“Th-thank you, you look pretty,” Natasha chuckled, tucking her little girl's hair behind her ear.

“You should go back to bed; your auntie Wanda’s not going to be happy when she finds out you stay awake at this time,” Natasha whispers, and the little girl looks down, fidgeting with her own hands, a bad habit she gets from you when you're nervous, scared, or overthinking, so Natasha stops her hands and holds them.

“What's the matter? Has something happened?”The little girl contemplates if she will tell her or not, but she has no other choice cause Wanda got called on an emergency solo mission, leaving her with the redhead, so either she should stay awake all night and wait for Wanda to tell her or she should tell Natasha and have a good sleep.

“I-I had a bad dream again,” she shyly said, still looking at her lap.

“The same one you said earlier? ”The little girl nodded, so Natasha took her chin and made her look at her.

“Hey, it's ok, I’m here…… How about you join me in my bed, and we will sleep next to each other? What do you think??”The little girl eagerly nodded; her eyes went wide, and she had a huge grin on her face. She feels like it's her lucky day, spending the night sleeping next to her mother.

“Will you tell me a story? ”She asked, getting in the middle of the bed, and Natasha got under the cover, leaving space for her daughter and inviting her in so the little girl could quickly snuggle at her.

“Of course," Natasha starts to tell her a story about how she and her mother met, making the little girl listen carefully and getting amazed by the story until she’s sound asleep in Natasha’s arm, making her smile, and seeing the little girl sound asleep makes her heart melt, so she wraps her arm around her and joins her in a slumber sleep.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanova #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #black widow #black widow 2021 #marvel black widow #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha x you #natalia romanova #mcu marvel avengers #marvel mcu #wanda mcu #mcu #mcu edit #marvel #natasha marvel #wanda marvel

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alllgator-blood · 2 days

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okkk wait this is the anon that sent an ask about autistic narinder and leshy hc 😅 i retract my statement they're all autistic 🤯🤯🤯🤯

I WAS LITERALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF ANSWERING THAT ASK TO SAY "I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE ALL AUTISTIC" BEFORE THIS ONE GOT SENT IN, I was two sentences in so your comedic timing was impeccable actually

I know there's like no evidence in-game to back my claims so this is purely a vibe check (and also me being unable to write for neurotypical characters) but yeah no I 100% feel like all the bishops have autism for some reason. They definitely express it in different ways and I was actually thinking about that in the car ride back home tonight??

SEMI-DETAILED HC EXPLANATIONS BELOW THE CUT

For leshy, I feel like since he's the youngest...when he came along, everyone was like "yep. We don't even need to get this one tested" after seeing him in his natural element. Which sounds cruel but that's just personal experience after people in my family started getting diagnosed and we started noticing things about each other better LMAO. I kinda actually designed my iteration of him to be like a big stim toy, I did that shitpost sketch in the last post but even the first time I drew him I was like "this dude is made out of orbs that make satisfying noises when they click together", so if I had to categorize the way his neurodivergency manifests, it's definitely "I NEED TO MOVE AROUND!! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!! MAYBE SCREAM A LITTLE IDK IT JUST FEELS RIGHT!!"

Heket is for sure the one that fights the most against people labelling her with it, just because she's like I'M SO NORMAL GUYS. LOOK HOW NORMAL I AM. LOOK HOW WELL I CAN ADAPT TO CHANGE AND LOOK AT ME NOT FREAK OUT AT ALL WHEN I'M OUT OF MY ELEMENT!! She's the new leader of the family so she does her best to hold it together but if you make plans with her, she's gonna be in Waiting Mode as soon as the plans are made and might tear you limb from limb if you flake or reschedule. Something my therapist told me recently is that me getting absurdly upset over injustices (small or big) is likely directly related to being autistic, so if heket feels like something is wrong she will absolutely be vocal about it. If someone says something mean to her, they are her fucking arch nemesis from that point on. The block button is NOT enough she wants them DEAD

For narinder, I feel like he maybe bonded a lot with shamura over the fact both of them feel pretty disconnected from everyone else? The way his autism manifests is probably the feeling that he's on a completely different wavelength than everyone else, and can't experience empathy the same way his siblings can. He'll like have conversations with people but it feels like someone just talking at him, and him having to mentally choose the dialogue options that make the conversation end the quickest. He probably feels like a completely separate species from everyone else on more levels than just "I am a cat and you are not". I know this doesn't line up with my narinder art so far but I have a distinct characterization of him pre-schism that's completely different from post-schism. I feel like he also resented the other siblings for having the same condition as him but presenting so differently, he felt like he got the short end of the stick.

Kallamar........is a FREAk ABOUT TEXTURES. Bro will actually throw up if he has to eat or touch something gross. He would probably excuse himself to go hurl if he sees leshy combining everything on his plate and shovelling it into his face. I'M actually about to hurl just thinking about it. I have to have lotion on at all times or I freak out when I touch things with my hands, and I feel like kallamar needs to have that famous Cephalopod Mucus Layer in order to exist in his body without wanting to implode. Maybe even a special oil he formulates himself? I also feel like he probably has the most freakouts and has been left crying inconsolably + hyperventilating on the floor over something seemingly stupid MANY times, but shamura is understanding enough to be patient with him and not try to grab him or repeat phrases at him over and over.

LASTLY, SHAMURA DOESN'T THINK THEY HAVE AUTISM. They're like "I love my Neurodivergent Family :) can't relate tho" but all the siblings have unanimously agreed they have something going on up there, even before the TBI. I think they're very book smart, and have little file cabinets of their brain of stuff like "arthropod husbandry" and "dreamcatcher making techniques" but are totally clueless to how other people operate. They don't really know *why* people do the things they do; in my prequel AU thing, they gain most of their social knowledge through people watching rather than like...being normal and just knowing how to behave. Out of all the siblings, they've probably been told the classic phrase "but you don't look autistic!" the most LMAO

Also shamura 100000% has misophonia and that's the reason I didn't have them sitting at the table with the other siblings in the voidpunk comic I did of them. They love their family to death but they have to make the conscious decision to not shake baby leshy every time he loudly chokes down his dinner, so they just sit out meals and eat on their own time. If shamura was real I would build them a shrine and sacrifice my noise cancelling headphones cause idk if they have sound reduction methods in cotl world <3

I know autism kinda encompasses ALL of these traits and isn't something that can be categorized into "this one hates noises, this one needs to follow a schedule..." but I also don't want to just point at one bishop and go "YOU. YOU WILL BE MY VESSEL" because I'd never get to write all that I have in mind if only one character had it. There's definitely overlaps in symptoms between them but I just wrote down what I felt would be the most notable to that specific character. I've been wanting to do a comic about their special interests or the times they just like sync up and have a brain blast jimmy neutron moment, cause usually they're all over the place. I have literally never said the word "autism" so many times in my life I think I gotta cut it here, THIS IS SO LONG. I REALLY DID WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS THOUGH SO THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK GENUINELY. IDK IF YOU EXPECTED A SMALL ESSAY ON THIS BUT I WROTE ONE ANYWAY

#HEADCANON DUMP #LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

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darkbluekies · 13 hours

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Of course I write psychopaths as well lmao, gotta keep the trademark

(Last private story thing I promise, I'm just so excited about these two sorry🥹🫶🏻)

Ps these are pretty violent so warning

Story 1

He wakes up to a hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes widen. At first he can't see anything, everything is too dark and blurry. As soon as his eyes have adjusted, he sees a pair of cold, gray eyes above him. The gray eyes are hidden by black stripes. HG lets out a skin-like squeal that is muffled by the hand over his mouth. Panic fills the chest. HO holds his index finger over his lips and hushes quietly.

"Come with me," the boy whispers. “I have a knife.”

HG can't move. HO gently helps him sit up with a soft, guiding hand resting on his small back. HG feels his head spinning from lack of oxygen and looks around. In the beds around him lie all the others, innocently asleep. If he just opened his mouth and said something they would wake up and be able to help him, but the sight of the shiny metal resting on the bedspread makes him sick. If he tries to wake the others, he will get the blade through the stomach.

HO notices that he has seen the knife, because he smiles crookedly and lifts it.

"It wasn't Archie (i have deleted that character so its okay to show the name) who took it, believe it or not," he grins and turns it over in fascination. "If you go along and shut up, you won't come into contact with it, okay?"

HG body twitches. He finds it difficult to nod, but finally manages to gently nod his head. HO runs his left hand through HG brown locks with a humble smile. He places the edge of the knife against HG'S back and forces him out of the dormitory. HG'S legs don't want to move and nearly trip him over the threshold on his way out. The stand is pressed hard against his waist. Millions of thoughts run through his head, but he can't understand any of them. They are flashing red as warning signals, but none of them are warning him of anything, they are screaming for help.

He doesn't want to die here. He doesn't want to die tonight. HG wants to cry, but doesn't dare.

HO takes him through the dark corridors, over to Dr. C'S office. He opens the door and lets HG walk in before him with the knife between them. The older boy flinches when the table lamp comes on. In the soft glow of the lamp, HO appears even colder, even paler.

“Are you going to kill me too?” HG asks quietly.

"Kill you?" HO repeats confused. "Why would I do that? Who have you been talking to?”

HG doesn't answer.

"Who have you been talking to, HG?" HO repeats, louder. He presses the knife against his pelvic bone.

"EDW," he gasps, thinking that EDW has a better chance of getting away from HO a second time.

“Who else knows? BN knows, right?”

HG feels his breathing hitch.

"Fuck," HO mutters and turns his gaze to the window. "Damn he's stupid."

“Why is he stupid?” HG ventures to ask, his heart pounding against his ribs. "What is it that you want?"

“You know a lot about medicine, I suppose. You are addicted to it. Help me find a poison strong enough to kill a horse.”

HG shivers. At first he doesn't move, doesn't answer. The thought of what HO will do with a poison strong enough to kill a horse makes his stomach turn. Softly, HO reaches out his hand for HG'S hair, but this HG backs away. He doesn't have time to stop himself. Ho takes a firm grip on his hair with nails scraping against HG'S scalp.

"Stop!" snarls HO. “Stop doing that!”

He lets go of HG, who nimbly staggers backwards and hits his hip on the desk. The pain penetrates the medicine, shooting lightning bolts through the blood. His chest rises and falls in a frenzy. His legs soon won't hold him up.

HG nods quickly and exhales slowly. The head spins uncomfortably. He wants to sit down.

"It's pretty pathetic when you think about it," says HO, twirling the shiny knife in his hand. “How dependent you are on the medicine, that is. Quite sad. Quite fascinating. The whole of you is fascinating, HG.” He raises his gray, intense gaze. “Like that time when you got a freak out during the test. When you screamed and punched and kicked like a madman. It was the only thing that made me endure that test. I can't scream, so I want you to do it for both of us.”

HG thinks he's going to pass out. If he hadn't seen the knife in HO's hands, he would have thought he had been stabbed in the stomach.

"What do you mean?" he gasps.

“It hurts, HG, everything hurts so much ... but I can't do anything. I want to tear myself apart, but I can't. But you… you're perfect.”

"Do not touch me."

“But, HG, in heaven you will be well. You won't have your pain anymore, so what if your human body is broken?” He smiles shyly and shrugs shyly. “I mean… how would you be able to stop me?”

Disgust fills the mouth. HG glares at him. He wishes he had opened his mouth inside the dorm and risked a stab in the stomach.

Story 2

OL was pushed down hard on the chair. Philip stood behind her, a rough hand resting on her bony shoulder. Mr. D calmly turned the revolver and smiled in shock. He exchanged an amused look with PH.

"This one is Edwardian," he said amused. “Where did you get this?”

“From a man who wanted me dead—at your command.”

Mr. D frowned, thinking, as if trying to figure out who could have tried to kill her. OL wanted to snort. How many had been ordered to kill her, if Mr. D had to think about it? He shook his head, letting it go.

"Oh, it's not important," he said, putting the gun aside.

He rummaged further in the bag and fished out the teddy bear with a mocking laugh. OL glared away at the wall, refusing to pay him any attention. She blushed, but didn't try to defend herself.

"You're too old for stuffed animals," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, OL could see how he grabbed the teddy bear with both hands, and easily ripped off one of its legs. She widened her eyes in panic and threw her head in Mr. Dutcher's direction, her body filling with ice.

"Stop!" she screamed shrill and shot up from her chair, but was brutally pushed down by PH. “Let it be!”

Mr. D's lips twitched into a smile as he nonchalantly tore off the teddy bear's other leg, and both of its arms. He had his head beheaded and his eyes gouged out. OL wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in the pit of her throat. She found it difficult to breathe. He waved the remains of the teddy bear in front of her eyes in an attempt to ridicule her but she boldly turned her head away, refusing to look at him. Mr. D opened his hand and flicked it across her face. OL's head flew to the side with a strong whiplash, and a scream mixed with surprise and pain rolled off his tongue. If PH hadn't kept a firm grip on her shoulders, she probably would have followed the head, down to the cement floor which was now full of white fluff.

"Don't think I've forgotten how rowdy you are," snapped Mr. D, shaking his hand free.

Her left cheek ached, throbbed and burned. OL turned her head towards him with a flash of anger in her tear filled eyes. He kept eye contact with his cold, dead eyes as he tore through the bag. He suddenly dissolved and lifted out the diary. He dropped the bag and what was left of the teddy bear onto the cement floor.

"Here we have it," he said, sounding possessed, manic. “Here we have it, finally.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the warehouse. OL breathed quietly, straining the air between her teeth. Nausea surged inside her and pressed against the pit of her throat. She watched as Mr. D flipped through the pages, skimming through the various texts. He seemed surprised by what he read, though he tried to hide it behind a pleased grin.

"It's not a little you've written," he noted, looking up from the pages. “You must have protected this book with your life, right? Who knew about it?”

"None," OL answered shortly. “I made sure no one knew about it.”

He waved the book menacingly in front of her eyes. “What were you planning to do with it? Did you intend to use it as blackmail to get out of the contract? Or did you intend to publish it to bring me down? You know no one would have believed you, right?”

OL did not respond.

"Shall we have some reading aloud?" he asked. "Then we'll see if it sounds credible."

He flipped back and forth. OLS's cheeks burned with shame. She had exposed herself on the pages and written things she never thought anyone—especially not one of the men who hurt her—would read. Mr. D was going to hold it against her.

“You have pages left,” he said. "Your last writing is from the eighteenth of September 1916"

OL struggled against PH's grasp. "Stop! You disgusting creep, stop mentioning it!”

Mr. D took his nose out of the book. He met OLS's manic eyes that were flooded with desperate tears. She hadn't read anything she'd written since September eighteenth, had forgotten how much it really hurt.

"What did you call me?" he asked tentatively.

“A creep!” yelled OL through violent sobs. “You are a vile, cowardly creep! Damn you are a man! A man would never have treated us the way you did! You deserved to get rid of your biggest ships, and all the money you had wasted on them!”

Another hard blow slammed across her face, a harder one. OLS neck snapped.

"You must have been afraid we would tell someone about what you did," she hissed, turning her head back to Mr. D. "Why else would you have kept us inside the house?"

“It was your uncle's idea.”

“Because he did everything to be on your good side! It's your fault that they are dead — your fault that I'm left alone! I'm so glad TN stole the contract that night, and tore it up. You can find the pieces in the diary, if you don't believe me.”

"I was with your sister when she died."

A cold wind pulled through her, chilling her heart in a macabre way. She seemed to lose her hearing for a few seconds. The body went numb.

“Do you even know what happened to her?” asked Mr. Dutcher, cocking his head. "Not? Then let me tell you.”

OL couldn't answer, her voice was stuck in her throat. She didn't know if she wanted to know. Her head had already given her every conceivable scenario of how TN had died, one worse than the other. She might have scared herself. Knowing what had actually happened could be good for her. OL hesitated. What would she do if what Mr. D said was worse than what she had imagined? Or if he lied?

"She was all alone," said Mr. D, sighing. “She tried to run away from me, but I caught her. I pulled her by the hair, away from everyone else. I punched her, kicked her and pounded her head on the deck.”

OL covered her hanging mouth with her shaking hands as she shook her head in despair. She didn't want to hear any more.

“She screamed for you, OL,” continued Mr. D, “until she passed out. Then I picked her up and threw her overboard. She woke up when she hit the surface of the water, but she didn't manage to stay up for long.”

"You're lying," OL whispered in horror. “That—…that can't have happened—”

He grabbed her head.

"You know I'm not lying," he said. “But no one will believe you if you try to tell them. Especially not without this one.”

OL followed the diary with his eyes. He dropped it on the cement floor. From his pocket he took out a box of matches.

“Wait, what are you doing?” screamed OL in panic, trying to fight PH once again. "Don't do it! Please don't, I'll do anything! D, please!” Her voice rose octave after octave to a shrill, panicked voice.

Mr. D paid her no attention. He drew the match against his ashtray, let the flame grow, then let it go. It fell against the diary, caught fire instantly. OL swallowed her scream and watched the diary burn. Years of work disappeared before her eyes in less than a minute. The dark red book took off a black surface, and its pages crumbled into ash. She couldn't move. All evidence of the pain she was forced to go through, the memories of her long lost sisters and gifts, destroyed, killed.

“Don't worry, OL,” said Mr. D, accepting an iron pipe from one of his henchmen, “you won't have to try to prove this to anyone. You will not get out of here alive.”

#bluetalk<3

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magicpotatoobsession · 2 months

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Soundless Gasps in Given and TGCF

Warning: MAJOR TGCF spoilers (ch 241) and Given (ch 26) Spoilers

Thinking about Given and Ugetsu suddenly feeling the immense emptiness of losing Akihiko that is then replaced by the calm of finally being able to let go and free himself from the chrysalis 🦋 .

TGCF and Xielian suddenly feeling the immense emptiness of losing HC that is then replaced by the calm of believing that he will be back as the butterflies 🦋 dissipate.

Art by xualwqy

Art by @lollimena

Soundless gasps.... one is losing someone but they are at least alive in this world and breaking free from toxicity and the other is knowing someone will be back but it could be 1 year or 800 years and one must hold onto that faith day by day.

In either scenario, I think I would go feral.

#screaming crying I can't get enough of these two #Xie Lian and ugetsu are spinning in my microwave brain #they are both just babies #I love them I love them I love them #given #given manga #ugetsu given #ugetsu murata #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hualian #ugetsu x akihiko #akigetsu #mpobsess #given movie

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elitewakefulwoodland · 1 month

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Figured out I can draw friend Oc's kissing Jax and I have nEVER BEEN HAPPIER AAAAAAAAAAAAA Charlie belongs to: https://twitter.com/PrincessGussy!

#Screaming crying throwing up jumping around the house and SLAMMING MY HANDS DOWN PRAYING PLEASE #GOD I LOVE THIS MAN AND I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF HIM BEING A SUAVE MOTHERFUCKER #He may not be able to keep a relationship but by god can he make a girl WANT IT WAAAAAAAAAAA #Charlie is an absolute bastard to him too #Touchy and very physically affectionate to Jax while also being an absolute GREMLIN AND MESSING WITH HIM ALL DAY #I cannot stop thinking about these two ToT #oc #sketch #hotline miami oc #art

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lowkeyremi · 3 months

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JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

#jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk as dads #jjk!dads #jujutsu kaisen as dads #dad!au #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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inkbybambi · 7 months

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bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —

words: 2.9k rating: e warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any! notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.

he's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. you weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.

"i don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.

"i wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.

actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.

he trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.

six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.

he rushes into your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side and not the trigger. the front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. he almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.

curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded through your hair as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.

he knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. you jump just a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.

"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "i didn't mean to wake you."

and you hadn't. you thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.

"'s'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "you okay?"

the look he receives damn near breaks his heart.

he learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. more than once.

they never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. they didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.

"i had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "it didn't change anything."

something shifts after that.

he starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. the bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects simon's books. you give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your "continue to watch" queue.

he doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. you sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down and you start the series from the beginning.

nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. you don't understand why. you were getting better, you cry in simon's arms after a particularly rough night.

"sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently carding his fingers through your hair, tucking you under his chin.

"make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.

he starts sleeping in your bed.

he's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. he presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.

he starts taking the balaclava off at night.

a morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.

"g'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. a flash of heat snaps through you.

"morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.

his fingers are in your hair, thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. he cradles the back of your head as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.

the sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.

he nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. you mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.

"fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"say please," he rumbles.

"simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.

you're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.

he usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. he eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.

but you? he feels feral with need.

"it's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, right above the mark he sucked into your skin, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. he's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.

you claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.

"it's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.

he grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.

"feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.

you make a strangled noise low in your throat. it's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.

the stretch feels so good, though. your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.

"fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."

he swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.

"think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. you would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.

"yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.

for a man of few words, simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.

"never had a cunt this perfect." "fuckin' made for me." "can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "no one else can have you." "you're mine."

and you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.

you mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him just as much as he's marking you. you'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.

"simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his legnth and thighs.

"that's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. you feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.

"wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, wanting to give you matching marks. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.

you grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. he feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.

the way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.

no one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.

but simon? fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.

"baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. the slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.

"cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.

he fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.

you stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.

simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "y'alright?" he asks. you swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.

he slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. you push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.

"fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.

he spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.

time bleeds together.

his contract renews on the twelfth month.

he heard rumors that price might switch him out for another guard.

you're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. price has two separate folders prepared. a sharp look from simon is all price needed to know about how he feels. the tongue lashing you give your higher ups has price raising his eyebrows, and simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.

he wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.

ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and i didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.

you grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.

his hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.

"don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."

eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.

he's meticulous, prepared, tactile.

there's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.

he makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.

he's like a shadow, or a guard dog.

you've never felt more secure. more protected.

until —

he doesn't know how it slipped past him.

he let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. he admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. you look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.

he hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. his eyes, though. his eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.

you look one second too late.

simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.

"stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.

you can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.

simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.

"you okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.

"fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.

"you're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "i'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.

you grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. you gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.

"simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.

he looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.

fuck.

at least it wasn't you, he tells himself.

nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.

while he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.

the hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. he hated it then and he hates it now.

price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while simon recovers.

you've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. the nerve.

twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. some of them in your writing, the others in his. the keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.

"why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. you're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. never dreaming he could hear it like that.

a lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.

he laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.

twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.

you smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.

it's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large german shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.

he feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. he touches his own subconsciously.

you set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.

there's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.

riley.

#ink by bambi #simon riley/reader #simon riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon riley/you #simon riley x you #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #mondern warfare smut

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vesrin · 1 year

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😖

#i feel insane #i have one exam tomorrow and two huge ones on friday and i still can't focus and i didn't read anything all day #i'm keep thinking that i'd like to write a fanfic someday but also convincing myself i'm not good enough to ever write something good #and i thought 'hey it doesn't matter as long as i have fun and do it for myself' right bc it works like that #and then i remembered this one gorgeously perfect fic i read like a year ago now and nice i made myself cry #because i'll never be able to create something even remotely as good and fantastic like that one!!#why does my brain work like that?? i'm happy that people write fics that other people (me very much included) enjoy but i feel so jealous #i try not to! but the same thing was with art and it took me SO LONG to not compare myself to othe-#(i just remembered i still do this. hah. but it's not as bad as it once was)#*sigh* hopefully i'll get this out of my system and focus on fricking passing this semester #hm. i was always worried of creating my own posts even to ramble but it's okay. kinda like writing in a diary lmao #ves rambles #i am sure running as fast as i can in a deep empty forest and screaming on top of my lungs would fix me. i'm sure of it.

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year

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PLSPLSPLSPLS WRITE FOR VENOM I WOULD ACTUALLY COMBUST

I meannn... if you insist.

Mine Tonight

Eddie/Venom x Female Reader

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Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Jealousy/angst, established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, spit kink, dacryphilia, mentions of spanking, some sadism, mentions of oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, monster fucking, mentions of anal sex, mentions of aftercare

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A/N: I would like to apologize to the monster-fucking community for any and all judgement I may have harbored. I get it now. I so get it now.

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Eddie/Venom Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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He likes it; likes to hear your frantic fucking screams when he shoves himself inside. Likes to hear and see you cry, watching your body take him. Likes when you wrap yourself around him in your shivering human skin only to fall back down when he presses himself to your chest. The way you move is mesmerizing; he likes to see you crumble and fall apart because of him. Because he knows it's him, it's him.

He's consumed by it, his mind forgetting the part of Eddie that keeps him alive. When he's like this, when you're like this, it's only you, only the two of you. You're the only thing that makes him feel alive and worth it because you're his to attack and wreck and fucking ruin. And at the same time to keep. To keep safe and happy and sane.

"V-Venom," You cling to him, or you try to, anyway.

"Venom." It's a soft word, the way it's spoken, the way your croaking voice breaks when he shoves himself in to the hilt.

Eddie gets jealous. He doesn't like seeing Venom like this, but at the same time, he understands. You're not just his, you're theirs.

"Tiny," He growls, his tongue flailing out before falling onto your face, capturing your jaw and licking up the side of your cheek.

There's drool and sweat and cum, all over your face and neck, your body. You can't tell if it's his or Eddie's but it's likely both.

"Tiny, little thing." He says, the words a low vibrational hum through his chest. "And so very good."

His words make you whine, taking the breath from your lungs, or is it the bulk of him throbbing inside? Your eyes shut, head pressing back into the pillows at the top of your bed. Back arching, Venom’s claws curl around your midsection, holding you up, holding you close. You’re fisting the bedsheets, the pleasure he brings overwhelming your body.

It’s the flop of his tongue on your face again that prompts your lids to flutter, drunken eyes opening to stare up at him. Milky white orbs, the tears in his head that resemble eyes, cloud your vision. The roughness of his tastebuds drag across the skin of your cheek, the tip of his tongue sliding gently across your lips. And while holding his direct gaze, you open your mouth, welcoming it in. And as soon as it is, your mouth closes, sucking on it.

Again, you can’t help but close your eyes, feeling his thrusts slow to sensual and deep ruts directly into your pelvis. The growl that emanates from him is ungodly, otherworldly, the rumble of it shuttering through your body.

Some days, Eddie wanted you to himself. Other days, they wanted to share you. And just as often, Venom claimed you for his own. This was one of those times.

Eddie found himself envious, angry, almost. Even if he allowed his symbiote this time with you, it wasn’t always easy. But he’d be damned to deny it didn’t turn him on. Watching you react to Venom was breathtaking. Sucking on his tongue the same way you’d suck on Eddie’s cock, your body writhing beneath the bulk of the slick monster taking over his body.

Venom retracts his tongue, nudging the smooth slope of his forehead over your cheek. Lowly, he grumbles, “Eddie misses you…”

Smiling languidly, your hands find the monster’s shoulders, nails dragging hard enough to force another noise from him. “Does he?”

He doesn’t answer you directly; Venom also was not immune to jealousy. “You are mine tonight.”

“I know,” You’re sighing, but a sharp whine is punched from your throat when he snaps his hips against you. “Venom!”

“Say it,” He demands, handling you roughly once again. “Say it to me - say it to Eddie.”

They were both protective over you. And while they were technically one, they sometimes couldn't help but want you to themselves. Truthfully, you loved it, reveled in it. Sometimes, making one of them jealous was exciting.

Grinning widely, you open your eyes, looking up at your enormous lover. And you know you’re looking at Eddie now.

“I’m Venom’s tonight.”

It makes Eddie’s blood boil with rage. You can almost feel it.

An enormous groan erupts from Venom’s throat, his tongue diving into yours. You feel like you can't even breathe, your body bursting to its limit. And he feels so differently than Eddie. He’s bigger, thicker, veinier.

You’re gonna fucking break her. Eddie can’t keep himself quiet inside Venom’s head.

“Good.” Verbally, Venom responds, the word quick to come out. But you whine when his tongue is gone, prompting the dripping wet muscle to slide back into your mouth.

Seeing you give into him like this was incredible, indescribable. Venom loved to hear your cries, loved to feel the slick suck of your cunt when it tried desperately to take him in. After so long, it wasn’t as difficult. Not when he’d licked you raw, not when his tendrils slithered up your stomach to pluck at your nipples.

You are such a giving thing, such a patient thing, so eager to comply and give Venom what he wants, anything he wants. His size and strength made you wet just from looking at him, how could you not give in?

At first, your tears were from pain. Sometimes, it really hurts, fucking stings, especially when he’s pounding directly into your body. But it’s not long before that rush of pain turns into sweet, debilitating pleasure.

He doesn’t mean to, but he scrapes you, his claws digging in enough to just barely draw blood. He’ll lick them later, caress you with his tongue while he holds you in his arms. After you had sex with Venom, your time with him didn’t stop there. He’d stay out long enough to cuddle you, hold you, care for you. He was always so grateful for this special time he got to spend with you, with only you.

Venom’s drool drips into your face, his tongue slithering out of the hot cavern of your mouth. You’re gasping for air, fisting the bedsheets when he’s too far away to reach. Angling himself downward, the thickness of him splits you apart, his claws holding the bowl of your pelvis up for him.

“V-Vee,” Your hand reaches out, palm pressing limply against the bulging muscles of Venom’s lower stomach.

Immediately, an extra tendril is on your hand and curling around your wrist. In the blink of an eye, he’s slamming your hand into the bed and away from his inky skin, his grunts becoming more animalistic.

“You know better.” Venom hisses, eyes squinting at you.

The first time he fucked you, he was surprisingly gentle, almost timid. He didn’t want to hurt you. But now? He loves it; he loves leaving marks on you, stretching you wide around the girth of him until you’re crying, licking your cunt until it’s puffy and raw and reveling in the way you scream until your voice is hoarse.

You’ve been with them long enough to know what to expect. Eddie likes when you’re on all fours, using his dominant hand to press your face into the bed. He’ll spank you if he’s worked up enough, but more often than not, he was fairly gentle, and always passionate. Making you cum was a must for him, whether it was on his cock or his fingers, he didn’t care. And neither did you. But Venom? Venom was… different. After that first time, he was rough, rough like he hated you. It’s always missionary with him, he likes watching your face crumple with pleasure, your body seizing up around his thick waist and pelvis. This way, he could lick you, too, and he loved to lick your face. It was almost like his version of kissing, his version of admiring you in the most feral way.

But when they’re together, they overwhelm you. Eddie is always between your legs, fucking you brainless while Venom’s tendrils slide between your cheeks. It took a while to open you up back there, but Venom was patient. He always is. And then he’d snake a couple toward your tits, pinching your nipples while another rubbed your clit. And Eddie would kiss you breathless, swallowing your moans while you laid there, suffocated by the two of them.

“Oh…” He’s growling, his chest heaving. “Can you hear it? Can you hear it, you little thing?”

“Hm?” You’re whining, gasping when he hisses above you.

“Listen to it,” And then his tongue is roaming the column of your neck, spit dripping over your open mouth when it retracts. “Your body, it’s opening up for me…”

“Venom,”

In truth, you’re the light of his life, of their life. It would be meaningless without you.

“Please.”

“You want it, don’t you?” The wet noise of your colliding sexes continues to fill the air, the loud squelch of your welcoming walls. “Don’t you?”

“Yes!” It comes out as a wail, your back arching up from the bed. Using your dominant hand, you lift it over your head, placing your palm against the headboard.

Everything feels raw, you’re aching. He’s been ruining you for hours, literal hours, soaking your bed with every ounce of wetness the two of you have. You can feel him in your stomach, you’re sure you can. He’s grown in size since the first time, his head constantly tilting down to watch you stretch.

After he receives your answer, he’s fucking you like he’s gone mad. Leaning over, he towers above your pliant and sweaty form, slamming himself into the delicate channel between your legs. You’re shocked you’ve been able to withstand him for this long.

“Venom, baby…” Smoothing your hands over the bulk of his shoulders, the firmness of his back, you coo to him. “Baby…”

It’s one of his weaknesses, something you like to pull out of your back pocket every now and then. It’s such a simple word, one used commonly in relationships. But to him, it was special. Eddie was always babe, but Venom was baby.

“Oh…” He’s faltering, breaths rough and right beside your face. “Sweetling…”

Toward the end, he was always soft with you. When his high finally came, he held you like you were his precious thing, his reason for living.

At first, you were extremely curious about this, having sex with an alien. How did that work… biologically? But honestly, it’s not much different than any other human. And you suppose that’s because of Eddie. The way Venom cums is generally the same, his white release spilling into you. He has so much more than Eddie, though, so much so that it leaks out from around his member every single time. Sex with Venom was always messy, always, but you really didn’t mind.

His body shudders above you, the incredible strength of his arms holding you tight. He’s licking your throat again, tongue rolling up to your jaw. He can smell the arousal seeping from your pulse points, and it only makes him cum that much harder.

He’d only allowed himself release after giving you yours. But one wasn’t enough for him, it had to be at least two, if not three. And he hit that lucky number tonight, his entire pelvis sopping wet from you.

The white noise ringing in your ears shields you from the incredible groan he releases, his head resting right beside your own. Grinding himself in to the hilt prompts your legs to open almost as wide as they possibly can, your muscles flexing for him. You’re breathing out choked gasps, feeling him knock your cervix whenever he’s like this.

“Oh my go-od,”

Venom groans, his body shivering one final time. But he doesn’t leave you, he stays pressed against your body.

“Mm…” He growls quietly, purring. Turning his head, he knocks his forehead against your jaw; a loving gesture. “Eddie is wondering if you are alright.” And then he’s smiling, chuckling. You smile too, exhaling an airy laugh. The way Venom handled you always made Eddie nervous.

“Yeah Eddie,” Nodding, your hands find either side of Venom’s face, simply caressing him. “I’m okay.”

With a refreshing inhale, you express genuinely, “I love you.”

The connection you have to them can’t be broken, it just can’t. You’ve been with them for too long, you’ve experienced too much.

“We love you, sweetling.” He’s purring now, the vibration rolling pleasantly through your body. Curling inward, he holds you even closer, his breathing becoming steady. “We do.”

#Venom #I'm fucking feral #Venom x you #Venom x reader #Venom x female reader #Venom smut #Venom fanfiction #Eddie Brock #Eddie Brock x you #Eddie Brock x reader #Eddie Brock x female reader #Eddie Brock smut #Eddie Brock fanfiction

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

Text

5 times * mv1

there are five times max almost caught himself saying he loves you, and then there's the time that he finally let you know

pairings: max verstappen x horner's niece!reader

warnings: i... don't know?

notes: yes, i'm making a comeback because i've gotten back into the mood of writing (i'm single) and because f1 has got me screaming, crying and throwing up. also, this took me 3 days to write, and i have grown attached. lmk if you guys want the counterpart (basically the same concept, but it's from your eyes???)

one.

"fucking," max cuts himself off, grabbing the closest thing to him. lucky for him, and his team, it's just his racing gloves, "bitch!"

it's just so infuriating to be so close to that podium. he crashed with 5 laps left of the race. his left rear decided to fail him stupidly near the end, after he'd poured his heart and soul to get on that podium. but here he is, moping in his driver's room.

after constantly being in the scrutiny of the public, especially with the way he handled losing, he'd resided here immediately. there's a bubbling anger rising up from him. he's so infuriated.

until a soft knock lands on his door. snapping him out of his thoughts, he knew what he wanted this time. "please leave me alone."

"okay. but christian just wants to know if you're alright." your voice sounds small. he could barely hear you with the door in the way.

he takes a deep breath, then walks over to the door. it reveals you with a hesitant smile on your face.

but he's always had a soft spot for you. all of the anger he'd been feeling merely 5 seconds ago dissipated. "oh. you're not in my room at the circuit often."

"i know. i'm sorry to intrude." you look down at the ground, your often confident self absolutely nowhere to be seen. "christian sent me to check in on you. i'll leave you alone, but i can't go back without an answer."

for starters, you're not a stranger to the signature max verstappen temper. but never has he directed it at you once. it's surely raised the eyebrows of christian horner the first time it happened when you joined the team.

one second he was all over the garage, only rude words coming out of his mouth. the next, he was silently raging as he sat on the tire of his car while you discussed dinner plans with your uncle.

"please, don't worry about it." he takes a step back, gesturing for you to enter the room. you do just that, although a bit hesitant. and he doesn't blame you for that. "come in."

there's a moment of silence between you two. for a moment, the engines from the cars outside start to die down, and the frequency of the fireworks is slowing down, and there are more footsteps in the gravel that surround the trailer.

"i'm okay." he leans on the massage table in the middle of the room. he still hasn't changed out of his race suit. his helmet, balaclava and gloves are all thrown in different directions of the room. they had all been victims of his uncontrollable rage.

it's apparent that he's not even close to being okay. he just has to bank on the fact that you don't probe with more questions.

"it's okay if you're not," you answer in a gentle tone. a soft audible sigh passes your lips as you sit on the couch in the opposite side of the small room. "it's just you and me. i'm not part of your racing team."

his eyes do the speaking again. the heaving of his chest is enough to tell you that he's actually contemplating it. without another moment's hesitation, he starts to go at it. all of the emotions he's been feeling lately, the frustration from just being 5 laps shy of being on that podium.

he's just ranting, throwing his hands in the air while he paces all over the room. he makes a mental note to find a way to make it up to you after this - you're just sitting there patiently, nodding your head empathetically while he talks.

it’s as if you knew and understood all that he’s talking about.

"it's just unfair! i did everything right this time!" he exclaims, hands clenched up into a fist. "i should have been up there! i deserved to be on that podium!"

there's one more thing that bothers him. you. whatever he feels for you. the way his heart races whenever you're around, or the way he's always thinking of the way you fix his hair for marketing promotion material - he can't get you out of his mind. for years, now.

he'd met you when he was 18, fresh into red bull racing as christian's new prodigy. he had only seen you a total of 15 times within the span of 3 and a half years. the transition from crumbs of your presence to full-out spending the whole racing season with you was more than his heart could handle.

now that he's gotten to know you better, the 22-year-old is almost convinced that he might actually have feelings for you. "and-"

he looks up from the ground, flinching back slightly when you're staring directly into his eyes from across the room. your eyes dart down to his hands and it's only then he notices how his hands are clenched into fists next to him.

he almost slipped up about his feelings for you. good thing he caught himself at the last second. his chest heaves as he looks at you, shoulders tensed up and eyebrows furrowed.

you raise an eyebrow, slowly nodding. you make a gesture with your hand to encourage him to continue saying whatever is on his mind. "and?"

"and," i have feelings for you, "it's just so unfair."

he feels his body melt at your stare. his shoulders slump, his breathing starts to regulate and his hands slowly unravel from a fist. it's just so unfair that he's so hopelessly smitten with his principal's niece.

"i know." you push yourself off the couch and walk over to him. stopping just a few steps from him, he looks at you sigh. "i'm sorry that it happened to you, max."

then a small grin slowly stretches his lips. the race is over - there is absolutely nothing he can do to change the result. he shrugs, "it's just racing."

"you can still feel angry about it," you grin, "it's just me."

max shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "i know. it's okay; i'm okay."

you drop your head slightly. max knows you don't buy his lie. of course, he's still angry about what happened. but there is still some truth to what he said - he got unlucky today with the car.

you take a deep breath. he's caught completely by surprise when your arms spread out, taking a step forward and engulfing him in the warmest hug.

he catches a whiff of all your scents - your shampoo, your perfume, and creepily enough, the soap you use for your clothes. and he completely basks in your embrace, his arms wrapping themselves around your smaller frame. his neck rests on your shoulder, silently straining his back just to take you in.

"i know you're not," you whisper. you lean your head into his as you rub circles on his clothed back. "i'm here for you, okay?"

and he wants to say it to you. he gets an inkling, after you just spent the better part of 20 minutes letting him scream about his feelings, that this is bigger than himself.

"i," he trails off, arms tightening around you. he closes his eyes, repeatedly reminding himself that he's not willing to risk it. he releases the breath he's been holding. "thank you."

two.

max can barely keep himself upright in the seat. he's clutching onto his balaclava, eyes following the light shone into his eyes as per the doctor's request.

he had a bad crash with lewis during the race that sent him flying into the walls. he blacked out for a couple of seconds, and he's been in pain since they escorted him to the medical centre.

there's a soft knock on the door, before he hears the creak followed by footsteps. "i'll be back with results, okay?" the doctor straightens up before walking away from him. he acknowledges the presence of someone new, then proceeded to walk out of the room.

the relief max immediately felt when he sees you standing shyly by the door, hands clasped together.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, slowly making your way over to him. "i came as soon as i heard what happened to you. that was horrible, what happened to you."

he tilts his head at you, ignoring the strain in his neck and the pounding in his head. "as soon as you heard?"

you chuckle, glancing down at the floor in what could only be described as embarrassment. "i was in the bathroom taking a piss when geri ran in yelling for me," you admit.

your eyes roam his body, your eyes matching the empathetic stares of everyone he has looked at since he was helped out of that stupid car. he hates it. he hates being on the receiving end of those stares, but it was strangely comforting coming from you.

"are you alright? do you have any more injuries?" you ask. you look at him, hands hovering above his hand that rests on his knee. max gives you a small nod of consent.

"it's just a concussion, from what i can feel," max admits. though, it hurts everywhere. when you crash into a wall at that speed and black out, it's definitely going to hurt everywhere that it can.

he's watching you intently. you're lifting his sleeves to scan for bruises and moving about the neckline of his race suit to look for any injuries. there's a tingling sensation that you leave behind as your fingers graze over his now exposed skin.

"i'm okay."

"i don't buy that at all," you scoff. you reach over for the empty plastic chair and pull it to his side. you take a seat. "i'm glad you're okay. i was really worried something bad had happened."

he smiles. the way you care for him never fails to make his stomach churn and his heart start to race. "it could've been worse. i'm glad it's just a concussion i've got."

you turn your head to look at him. god, he wishes he can just take you in for an embrace and reassure you that he's perfectly fine. because he is. it's just some body aches - nothing he hasn't had to go through before as an athlete.

"i'm sorry about the race." you take his towel into your hands and fold it up. you gently tap on his face, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his face. "let me know if you need anything, okay? water, ice... food..."

"i will handle," he grins, his gaze following your hands' movements. "thank you, though."

you don't say anything. you just smile at him as you put the towel back down on his knee. you rest your hand just above the damp material and tilt your head at him. "how do you feel, though?"

"g-"

"about the points," you cut him off. "it's a close fight for the driver's championship. how do you feel about that?"

he shrugs, pouting his lips out. you widen your eyes at him as you anticipate the next thing coming from his mouth. "it's just racing. i'll come back next weekend."

you roll your eyes and lean back into the chair. both of your eyes are on the tv, watching the broadcast of the race together. "i believe in you. there's still a long season ahead of you."

he moves his eyes to look at you. not his head fully - he doesn't need you catching him stare at you. your unconditional support for him just made him want to jump for joy.

thought, sometimes he does wonder if you're only doing it because you work for the team. but other times you're just so believable that he thinks it's him as a person you're rooting for.

and god, he wants it to him so bad.

"it feels like forever - this pain," he admits. without thinking, his hand instinctively reaches forward. he puts his hand above yours. he squeezes your hand.

he sees you shake your head. you manoeuvre your hand. now your palms are touching. he could have sworn it was the concussion making him see and feel things when you intertwine your fingers.

if he were to be honest with you, he feels like this could the lowest point of the season for him. that rear failure earlier on felt minuscule compared to this crash. deep down inside, there's a fear that there's no coming back from this.

you squeeze his hand, slightly tighter than he had done to you just a few seconds prior. "i wish i could make it better. i'm sorry, max."

your voice wavers as you speak to him. and it kills him that you’re so worried for him. he does have a healthy support system, as much as the public wants to make it out that he’s too cold for that.

max wants to reassure you, just as you'd done with him. but he doesn't even know how to do that. your presence now, while he's still slightly out of it from the crash, is enough to put him at ease.

he sighs, squeezing your hand once more. it's at the tip of his tongue. if he could just convince himself to say it to you.

yet, he settles with, "you're the best."

three.

max leans back into the wall, arms folded over his chest. the strobing lights, the music bouncing off the walls, and a plethora of bodies surround him.

next to him, sebastian is deep in conversation with daniel. a conversation that he had tuned out of a few minutes ago. when he found you on the dance floor, terrorising alex and lily with your dance moves.

if you asked him, he would've told you that you're a natural at many things. dancing, unfortunately, is not one of them.

his silent pining comes to a halt when he meets lily's gaze from across the room. a knowing smile on the girl's face, he feels his cheeks heat up when she drags alex down to whisper something in his ear while pointing at max accusingly. alex turns his head in max's direction and his body shakes with a laugh.

great. they've caught on.

alex nods and raises his eyebrows at max teasingly. alex glances at you, shocked to find out that you've managed to shimmy your way 5 metres down the dance floor to now terrorise george and carmen.

max smiles to him, watching alex bend over backwards to get your attention. it's proven a challenge when you sandwich yourself between them.

when alex manages to finally get your attention, you just smile at him. you hand him the empty glass in your hand and grab carmen's hands. it's a wonderful sight - alex struggling to get your attention. but when he did, max swears his heart skips a beat.

because you lean into alex, listening to what he says into your ear. alex points in his direction and your face lights up when your eyes meets his.

you stride across the room and push yourself through the crowd. before he knew it, you're staring up at him with a toothy grin and wide eyes.

from the corner of his eyes, he notices sebastian and daniel have stopped their conversation. across the room, lily and carmen have flagged their boyfriends down. all eyes are on the two of you.

"what are you doing here all by yourself? you should be out on the dance floor celebrating!" you shout over the music, tiptoeing slightly to meet max's height. "you just won a race!"

"i'm good here, thanks!" max laughs, moreso at your state. your cheeks are puffed up and your lips are swollen. even your voice sounds damaged from all the screaming you've done. "enjoy your evening, please! don't worry about me!"

you shake your head in urgency. "no! you have to celebrate!"

he continues to look down at you, genuinely considering if he should let your persuasion tactics work on him tonight. who is he kidding; he can never say no to you.

"okay, but i'm driving us back to the hotel. so no drinks for me." before he could finish his sentence, you've managed to yank him off the wall. your hand has a firm grip around his wrist as you guide him through the crowd towards the bar counter.

"we'll get a cab!" you stop right at the bar and turn around to look at him. "you won the race today! aren't you excited? are you not at least a little bit prideful that you're leading the driver's championship again?"

max supposes you have a point. he should be excited. here he is in his 6th year in formula 1, being so close to clinching the world champion title for the first time in his life. it's just one night, right?

he can't possibly let you be more excited for his achievements than himself. that's just not right. did he not believe in himself?

he watches you prop yourself up on the bar stool, carefully telling the bartender your order. max's hands hover over your body, just in case you'd fall.

once again, you have managed to make his heart race by putting so much emphasis on his achievements. he's made his way onto the podium several times now that it seems almost mundane for him to end up there.

he wants the next big thing; he wants the world championship title. but why exactly is he waiting a whole few months just to celebrate again?

"come on, max! let loose a little. you don't have to wait for the season to be over to celebrate," you answer genuinely. for a moment there, max almost thinks you're sober. "if you don't want to celebrate your small wins, at least let me do it for you?"

he huffs. you're a lot more convincing when you pretend to be sober, after having downed a couple glasses of cocktails.

you tilt the unscrewed bottle of beer towards him, a freshly mixed glass of cocktail in your other. "congrats on winning the race today, max. i'm so proud of you."

max takes the bottle out of your hands. he willingly taps the neck of the bottle onto the rim of your glass. "cheers," he grins, watching you excitedly sipping away on your mojito.

if he could guess, you’re 6 glasses in. you’re definitely going to regret it in the morning.

you swiftly intertwine your fingers with his and start to pull him towards the dance floor. "let's go celebrate!"

you stop abruptly, your cocktail almost spilling all over your dress as he plants his feet into the ground. you squeeze his hand and look up at him shyly with your chests almost touching. even in the sea of people in the club, you managed to make it feel so intimate.

just you and him.

can he really excuse the words threatening to slip out of his mouth with half the bottle of beer in his system? can he just say it without you remembering it the next day?

but you beat him to saying something. "i'm so proud of you, max."

he smiles, letting a small breath out. he squeezes your hand. "thank you. you're the best."

four.

it's upsetting, really, not having you in the paddock all weekend. what you'd thought to be a simple itchy throat from all the sweets you've consumed had turned into a covid scare. you're isolated in the hotel, albeit having tested negative, already better.

the team couldn't risk getting either driver contracting a sickness. especially not max, a clear contender for the title this year.

max has not seen you since tuesday. the photos of him on the red bull racing social media platforms are just not as good when it's not you taking them. nobody else on the marketing team ever tells him his hair is a mess. neither do you - you always just reach in to fix his hair for him.

max huffs, adjusting his shirt as he stood in front of your hotel room. the small bouquet of flowers suffocate in the grip of his hands. a plastic hangs on his fingers.

the lock clicks. the door is slowly pulled open. there you are, in all your glory. your hair is up in a ponytail, you're in your pyjamas with juice in your hand. your eyes widen. "max! what are you doing here?"

with flowers in his hands, there's really only so many excuses he can make up. he tilts his head and his eyes narrow down. he's searching his brain for an excuse - something that doesn't scream the fact that he is hopelessly in love with you. "um..."

he stays in the hallway of the hotel, and you stay inside with your hand still on the door handle.

when he had gotten off the race track, alex had celebrated with him. at some point, max expected someone to bring it up. it just shocked him that it had taken this long.

alex gave him a firm pat on the back as they strolled the paddock after media commitments. and the question finally came up. "so are you ever going to ask (y/n) out?"

the question should not have even shocked him in the first place. he had been sitting around waiting for someone to ask him this. nevertheless, he was still dumbfounded by the question.

he started explaining - how he can never get around to asking you out. you're christian's beloved niece. first of the next generation. christian even introduced you as the daughter he had to raise before he ever thought about having kids of his own.

and alex gave him the weirdest stare. because everyone on the paddock could easily tell max had feelings for you. he didn't do much to hide it either. it'd apparently been so bad that even toto wolff sneaks around the paddock with questions if there's been progress.

and so, here he is, standing in front of your hotel room after having won his home race. when he managed to escape his pr manager, he took a shower and immediately bought flowers, some food and came straight to you.

he missed you all week.

"max?"

his answer comes out in a ramble. if you hadn't spent so much time with him, you probably wouldn't have understood. but in your week of absence, the driver doted on you with video messages, voice messages and pictures. endless updates with the grid, the drama, the placements.

anything to make it feel like you were still there with him.

"can i take you out on a date?"

his heart races. beads of sweat form on his forehead. the hallway, that had once felt so icy suddenly became so warm.

"what?" your jaw drops, eyebrows are raised in shock. the silence is deafening.

is this some kind of sick prank alex is pulling on him?

immediately, max goes into defensive mode. "i mean, it's okay if you don't! i just thought if i don't shoot my shot now, then i'll never know. i won't take it personally!" he lifts up the plastic filled with tupperwares of food. "i even brought you supper!"

you scoff with a laugh bubbling up from your stomach. you leap up from your spot, throwing yourself onto max. you lift your feet off the ground. his available arm wraps around your waist to stabilise you. his other arm, already busy with gifts for you, darts out to hold the door ajar.

and what does this mean, exactly? max verstappen has never been one to take these things for an answer. he needs is in black and white - in the clearest of clarifications.

"yes, of course!" you squeal into his shoulder. okay, now he can celebrate. it had taken you a solid 10 seconds in a tight embrace before you decided that the hotel's hallways were too exposing for your liking.

finally, he lets you guide him into the hotel room. he can't stop the wide grin forming on his face either. by the looks of it, neither can you.

"right. these are for you," max finally says, holding out the bouquet of flowers to you. "and i'm sorry i'm late. i could have gotten here earlier if it weren't for alex and lando fighting me over what flowers to get you."

your eyebrow raises, willingly receiving the flowers. "you were in cahoots with those two?"

"and george," max shrugs simply, scrunching up his nose. "but he was easier to deal with than those two."

you smile, if it's possible to get even bigger than what's already there, as your fingers lightly graze over the petals of the flowers. max simply stands back while he watches you admire the brightly coloured bouquet.

he's confident about one thing that night: what kind of flowers to get you. so when lando and alex were fighting him over which flowers to get you, they were simply debating over the roses.

but he is in the netherlands. what else could have been the right choice of flowers but the tulips? and he's in an expensive sport, after all. it would be so uncharacteristic of him to undermine the way he felt for you.

long story short, he got the most gigantic bouquet filled with striped tulips. he spent 150 euros. that's not even near the amount he knows he feels for you.

if you asked him for the world, he'd simply exhaust every single resource he has to give it to you.

"thank you so much," you coo, finally looking up at him. you lean in, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. and he will absolutely spend the rest of his night thinking of this exact moment.

this is quite possibly the furthest he's gone with you. and he almost slips up again. he should've just said it, but he's just not quite sure he should. it's just going to scare you off.

"oh! and, congrats on the race win today," you cheer before pressing your lips against his cheek again.

max grins. he doesn’t know why he put it past you. you’ve made it clear you’re going to be his biggest fan. “oh, you watched the race?”

you’re gently laying the bouquet on top of the table in the corner of your room. “of course. it was a brilliant race. i'm so proud of you."

he just squeezes your shoulder. "thank you. you're the best."

five.

in his dark hotel room, the tv illuminates your face as your eyes lock on the movie you've chosen. it's the only way max can see your face. he'd love to be able to pay attention to this movie, but how could be when you're all tangled up with him.

"are you scared?" you suddenly mutter. your first words in almost 20 minutes, almost making him question if you're making conversation because you're falling asleep.

"what?" he's genuinely dumbfounded with the question. he glances at the tv, curious if he had dozed off long enough for you to choose another movie. but no. it's still mamma mia playing. "we're watching a musical."

max watches your body heave up, then down. "for tomorrow."

he tenses up. he's been trying his hardest not to think about it at all, actually. since he'd finished up his evening with media commitments, he just went straight to you in the garage office. he packed his bags and took you out to dinner.

he's secured pole position for tomorrow. he didn't want to think of anything else right now.

he doesn't want that stress passed on to you.

max hums, suddenly feeling an interest in the musical. it's meryl streep singing abba, after all. how can he not be any more interested? he shrugs. "okay, i guess."

he avoids your eyes. all eyes and remaining attention of the evening is on the actress belting out a song. and it's rudely interrupted when you pause it.

you stumble around, propping yourself up to your elbow to give him a stern look. "okay?" sometimes max forgets you're now his girlfriend. he forgets that he doesn't have to put up a front to shield you from his real emotions. "what do you mean 'okay'?"

he sighs. he turns his head back to face you, almost flinching at the glare you're giving him. he clears his throat as he pushes himself up against the arm of the couch. he sits cross-legged and you mirror his posture. he shrugs again. "i can't overthink it now. i just have to do my best tomorrow."

you throw your hands up in the air, scoffing. "what?"

max is at a loss for words. what response, exactly, did you expect out of him? "what?" he says back, hands also thrown up into the air. from the amount of time you've spent around him on the race track, he expected you to know his mindset when stepping into a race.

he can't overthink it before he even gets on the track. in fact, there is no room for that at all.

you resign to the other end of the couch and fold your arms over your chest. you even pull your feet back, not wanting to be in the range of his touch.

"(y/n), i don't know what you want me to say, darling," max responds gently. he's slightly annoyed, yes, but he doesn't want that to triumph your relationship. "you know the clear mind i need to get into a race. if i overthink, that's when it's over for me."

you roll your eyes. "no. it's just you and me. there is absolutely no way you have no opinions about the race tomorrow. not even a single thought? seriously, max?" you tear your eyes from him. "i'm not christian."

max sighs. he scooches over to you on the over end of the couch. though you squeeze yourself further into the armrest away from him.

he huffs, wrapping his arms around you. he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "of course, i have a thought in my head about the race. but if i let it get to me, darling, it can cost me the championship."

you hum, but there's a hint of annoyance. though, you give in. because you drop your head back on his shoulder and pout. "okay, fine. race your heart out, max. i just know you've got this."

he gives you a slight squeeze. a weaker one compared to others. honestly? he's terrified of screwing up tomorrow. he just wants that title so bad. all his life, he's worked for it.

he's simply afraid to let christian down. more importantly, he's afraid to let you down. though his handful of mental breaks about being so close to the final race of the season, you'd reassure him that you'll always be proud of him no matter what.

it's just not enough for him.

the movie starts to play again. you coddle up into his lap and he rests his cheeks on your head. i love you.

thank you, you're the best.

max has not been able to get the ringing out of his head since he crossed the checkered flag. he has not been able to think straight since then.

he just won his first world championship title. he's on his knees, his head resting on the tire. all 58 laps, all he could think of is how is he going to win? how will the season play out?

he finally lifts his head, dropping himself back to sit on the track of the abu dhabi track. he groans loudly, almost into a scream, as he unclips his helmet. he yanks it off his head, then his balaclava almost immediately.

he is feeling so many things.

then across the barrier, he sees you. eyes filled with tears, hair pulled back into a ponytail, in your very own red bull racing uniform. his stare down with you doesn't last long. christian is quick to yank you away.

and he spends the next 5 minutes scanning the crowd for you. sure, he wants to celebrate with the people that made it possible for him to even be there in the first place. but there is you.

"max!" your voice makes him whirl around. a sigh of relief slumps his shoulder. it's you.

his face lights up at the sight of you. just a minute ago, he felt so drained. he barely found it in himself to walk to his team for cheers. yet here he is jogging towards you.

"world champion, max verstappen!" you scream. you leap off the ground, legs quickly wrapping around his waist.

his arms wrap around your torso, just holding you close to his body. "i'm so proud of you," you cry into his already wet neck. you wrap your arms around his shoulders tighter. "i fucking told you."

he doesn't even know what to think. his mind is in a jumble of thoughts. it's undeniable that you had pushed him to his best this season. just having you there, reassuring him every single weekend. even when he crashed, even when he'd retired out of a race.

your legs slowly drop back down to the ground, and he finally gets a good look at your face. for some reason, you're just as sweaty as he is. the ponytail on your head is falling apart and the makeup running down your face almost makes him laugh.

then the excitement obviously hits you again. because you give him a firm and strong pat on his shoulder. "you proved them all wrong, max! you're a world champion!"

his chin is held high and his chest is puffed out. you'd never doubted him. it almost brings him to his knees how much support you had for him.

max is so full of emotion. the race, the title; you. you jump in your spot and clap, nose scrunching up in delight. "i told you this was your season! i knew it all along!"

and he just blurts it out. "(y/n), i love you."

you don't even hesitate. it's like you'd been waiting around to say it too. "i'm so fucking proud of you. i love you."

#it took me three days to write this #and for what #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #f1 x reader

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areislol · 4 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝SWEET!❞

►— pairings. various genshin men x fem! reader

►— warnings. smut, cursing, dirty talk, just smutty. implied reader has somewhat thick thighs, 18+ fingering, MDNI

►— synopsis. an alternative title, how do they eat pussy?

►— a/n. been having these thoughts for a bit now i need to jot them down before my obsession grows worse.

►— wordcount. 2.3k

they eat that pussy like it's a religion, his head buried in between your legs, his hands gripping onto your thighs tightly, using his strength to keep your thighs still and from closing in. his eyes are focused solely on your face as he languidly drags his tongue into a line on your wet pussy.

he's addicted, to say the least. the smell, the taste, the lewd and dirty sounds you were making, he loved it all, and all the while as his mouth latches onto your poor abused cunt he whispers the sweetest things in your ear, dirty words as well. he switches between both. on the rare occasions that he does tease you he will whisper the most vile and dirty things you've ever heard, but most of the time he's just craving you, he just can't wait, once you give him the word that he could go down on you he wastes no time and before you know it he's sandwiched between your thighs and giving you an orgasm.

every time he eats you out he reminds you of a starving animal (if you didn't know any better), every time he eats you out you are a mess, and your pussy is a mess. your juices, sweat and saliva combined created a nasty sight it made him achingly hard but even so he prioritizes your pleasure first as he grinds his bulge on the bed. your moans and praises as you grip his hair and push his head deeper in were all he needed while jerking your hips at the same time.

his nose rested on your clit, the air hitting your clit as his tongue relentlessly flicked up and down your folds, he sucks and kisses your clit before adding a finger in. yes, although he does love to eat you out he also loves fingering you as well, the sweet moans and screams you let out just get him so hard it motivates him to eat you out even more. not that he plans on stopping. he barely teases you, he doesn't like the idea of stripping you of the chance to cum because truth be told he really really wants you to cum on his face (and sometimes he unintentionally overstimulates you).

— XIAO, CHILDE, kaveh, CYNO, WRIOTHESLEY, thoma, lyney, VENTI, itto, gorou

teases you while eating you out and teases you before eating you out, he knew what you wanted but continued to tease you, savouring every moment when you squirm and whine for him to go down on you. he's mean, he doesn't stick to one pace and instead chooses to go slow and fast, it's just how your face contorts when he buries his face against your pussy and begins to lick and slurp your folds and just when you're about to cum (he has been teasing your poor pussy for so long the second he begins to actually eat you out you're too sensitive, that's him to blame) he slows down his pace, a frustrated cry leaving your lips as tears brim your eyes, you just wanted him to do it properly.

he doesn't mind fingering you as he licks your clit but he finds it satisfyingly when he knows only he can make you cum with his tongue, when he feels nice he'll finger you with one or two fingers, pumping in and out of your mushy walls as his tongue rolls over your sensitive bud, his tactic never fails to get you cumming in no time.

he won't lie, he loves seeing you in tears as he continues to tease your bud and clit with his tongue, he isn't even giving it his all, his cheeks aren't even pressed against your inner thighs and here you are, let out cries for him to please eat you out, it's adorable. and when he thinks you're ready and he had enough teasing you already he's already lapping at your folds and humming, the vibrations and hums on your sensitive skin make it all the more pleasurable. he isn't that bad though, when he feels bad for you or feels like you've endured enough teasing he'll make sure to make it up by eating you out good (not saying he never does).

that doesn't mean he's not done being mean to you though, he's heavy on eye contact. he loves making eye contact with you as he brutally violates your clit, and he lives to see the faces you make as he inserts one finger in your soaking pussy, juices spilling out of your greedy hole, he loves seeing how you gasp when he swiftly slips in another finger, teasing you as he says how wet you were that he could easily fit in a third finger.

but he hates when you look away in embarrassment, he'll stop doing what he's doing—he'll stop his fingers from bottoming in and out of your pussy, and he'll stop his sucking and licking at your clit when you look away from embarrassment, "getting shy now are we? guess that means i'll have to stop.." you whine and quickly look back at him, looking down and meeting his eyes, his gaze was hot and intense, mouth and cheeks wet with your juices and his saliva, it was dirty.

"keep looking at me as i fuck you with my tongue, you understand? i want to see your face as you cum, i want you to watch me as i make you cum, got that?"

— ALHAITHAM, AYATO, WANDERER, pierro, PANTALONE, TIGHNARI, HEIZOU, DOTTORE, capitano

gentle and soft yet never fails to make you orgasm hard, he relishes in watching your dripping entrance as you wait for him to go down on you. he takes things slow and is very passionate, he considers himself a lucky man every time he eats you out because he knows only he is allowed to be in this position, no one else. he is sort of possessive when in the act when he really thinks about it, no one has eaten your pussy out this good, your moans and cries are only for him to hear.

despite him taking it slowly he is a god at eating pussy (you can't change my mind), he plants soft and tender kisses on your thighs before slowly reaching your inner thighs, you whine and beg for him to hurry up but he only shushes you and reminds you to be patient. "ah, remember to be patient love, i want to savour this moment.." you let out a soft moan and bring your head backwards when he finally kissed your clit.

his hands are tightly yet tenderly holding your legs apart, his hands grabbing a hold of the soft plush of your thighs. he leans in closer to your pussy, his thumb prying your wet pussy slightly open, he stares at it in awe before softly blowing on it, the cold air hitting your sensitive folds. your back arches as a shaky sigh escapes your lips, he looks up from his position and smirks before latching his mouth onto your pussy, it was all so sudden it caught you off-guard but within a couple of seconds the pleasure had taken over your body, your mind was clouded with nothing but pleasure.

he loves it when you yank and grip his hair, pulling him in closer to your pussy just to create more friction. you were so greedy it was cute so he always allowed it, he hummed and moaned softly as he ate you out, the vibrating sensation never failed you made your legs tremble and he knew it. he nips and softly (just barely) bites at your folds before covering them with a long kiss and when he releases he lets out a "pop!", your moans grow louder and louder the more he licks and slurps at your sensitive dripping entrance.

he knows when you're about to cum, the sound of your gasps and moans strained, the way your grip on his hair tightens as you try to pull him in closer to your pussy (it already is but he isn't complaining) and your hips jerking up—he closes his eyes, taking in the moment and makes sure to hold you steady when you finally reach your climax, thighs, hands and legs trembling from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

and even after cumming on his face he continues to eat you out (obsessed much), you try to push his head away but he only narrows his eyes at you, it was hot to see him maintaining eye contact with you so well as he licked and slurped up your sweet essence. "don't try to push me away now princess, not after you were so eager to cum and pushed me in so close. just another, please?"

he's the type, that even after you're passed out in bed from cumming, his head's still in between your thighs, bumping his nose onto your clit for stimulation as a few strands of hair tickled your thighs. he really enjoys eating you out, if you can't tell (he doesn't even stop even after you've done passed out) but you know what he enjoys as well? face sitting, the feeling of your soft thighs squeezing his head as you ride his face and nose is everything.

he ignores his own problem when eating you out, his cock was aching, all hot and bothered. but he didn't mind, if anything just seeing you cum from his tongue and mouth made him cum (happened too many times), he's too preoccupied with your pleasure anyway. although if you really do insist on helping him out then... (can he put his dick in?)

— ZHONGLI, DILUC, albedo, BAIZHU, DAINSLEIF, aether, kaeya, KAZUHA, NEUVILLETTE

definition of "pussy drunk", he LOVES eating you out.. so what if he suffocates between your thighs? he will gladly and happily suffocate between your thighs. although he is a bit shy doing it in public the thought of someone walking in the restroom and hearing the lustful moans coming from one closed stall makes him hard, at first he's soft and slow and kissing your thighs but that only lasts for a bit before he's literally making out with your pussy.

he LIVES to hear your praises when you mewl his name and cry out of pleasure, his lips swollen from burying his mouth deeper into your warm pussy, his nails digging into your thighs as juices (was it cum, saliva or sweat? who knows?) coated his chin, dribbling down his neck. it was a sticky mess and he loved it. his eyes are closed shut, brows furrowing his concentration as he sloppily laps over your hot, swollen puffy cunt. and when he does open his eyes he only does it to admire your soaking pussy coated with slick before licking up your cream, and his eyes? god they're so dazed and lustful it makes you feel embarrassed, real pussy drunk.

one thing he will never ever get enough of is the taste and how messy it gets. call him a freak or whatever you want but the sensation of his cheeks and mouth smothered by your juices and arousal as he gently nipped at your folds and slurped up all of your essence, is something to die for. the way your slick rolls down from his lips to his chin and down his neck, the tickling sensation is one he will never forget.

who knows what the slick is made up of? was it from your arousal? was it his spit and drool? perhaps both. there's just something irresistible about how dirty you could get just by his tongue and fingers that does something to him (not to mention the precum leaking out of his boxers), the more you cry out in pleasure and overstimulation makes him crack.

he's extremely skilled when eating pussy, that's just something he's naturally good at but you swear he gets better and better every time.. maybe you're too kind to let him eat you out nearly every day. but the more he goes down on you the more he learns—what spot you like the most, where's the most sensitive part, what combination you like, what pace... you get the jist. one of his favourite things is when you get too overwhelmed with pleasure to the point where your legs are shaking and pushing his head away, crying out for him to stop—that you were full.

"full? already? but i haven't even used my fingers yet..." he sighs (directly onto your pussy) and only ducks his head back in despite your futile attempts to push his head away, he knew your energy was low meaning you couldn't push him away even if you wanted to. he could eat out for hours on end, even days if he could (he would), he gets really delirious when eating you out, it's as if everything around him is gone, he's like his own little world with your pussy. the low groan and grumbled escaping his lips as he licks your clit up and down before sucking on it, letting go with a loud "pop!"

and once again he's back it, his tongue brazenly exploring your cunt before swirling at your poor sensitive bud, with every sharp and precise movement he makes he does it with every intention to make you cum, for like the third time. the way he's alternating between your clit and your needy hole makes your mind crazy, too fucked out to think about anything but the intense pleasure, and with every exhale his warm breath hits your flushed skin, his tongue lapping over your squishy folds. he'll never leave your pussy alone, will he?

— XIAO, ZHONGLI, ALHAITHAM, DILUC

the one thing they all have in common is that in the end when he pulls away he can't tell whether or not you're extremely wet because of your arousal/sweat or his saliva, or maybe it's both, who knows?

note: uuuuhhhhhhh dialogue or the text itself may be a bit icky (I'M NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT) so if it irks you just stay quiet and go on about your day. (*��з`b)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: slightly proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me.

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

Text

overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas smut #coriolanus smut #yandere #obslove #obsessive love #x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #x reader

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

crimson red

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, stalker!rafe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NONCON, R*P3, KNIFE PLAY, READER GETS CUT, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD, BLOODPLAY, BLOOD EATING?? LICKING??, P IN V SEX, UNPROTECTED SEX, BRANDING? SCARING?, THREATS OF MURDER, DACRYPHILIA, extreme caution yall this is for my dirty depraved freaks

part one / part two / part three

“stop struggling.” rafe grunts out, one hand holding the sharp blade to your throat while the other is gripping your hip, bruises already forming as your skin blossoms purple.

“r-rafe.” you whine out, wiggling your hips again. “please stop. please.”

“you're making things worse for yourself. stop moving.” rafe warns.

you go to continue to argue when the knife presses forward a little harder, rafe not even realizing that a bead of crimson red blood is dripping down your throat from the tip of the knife breaking through your skin.

“see?” rafe licks his lips when he spies the blood. “that's what you get. you're gonna stop moving now, right?”

you can't nod, so you let out a mix of a whimper and a cry that rafe takes as agreement, leaning down to lick at the trail of blood that has now fallen to your shoulder, all the way up to where it spilled from your neck, already starting to dry up now that rafe has moved the knife away slightly.

“now can i put this down?” he questions, head tipping forward, forcing you to keep eye contact with him as his eyes pierce into you, any sign of friendliness long gone.

“yes.” you manage to croak out. “i won't fight anymore.”

“good.” rafe grins, but there's no sweetness behind his smile, the wickedness shining through as he moves the knife away from your throat. you take a ragged breath, watching how he sets it next to you on the desk.

“now im gonna fuck you. im gonna cum inside of you. i want you to be good, alright? if you start screaming, ill cut you.” rafes voice is soft and quiet as he explains, like his cock isn't currently rock hard inside of you after ripping your clothes off and forcing himself in.

“ill be good.” you nod freely now, tears falling down your face. rafe just smiles, leaning in and instead of licking up your blood, he runs his tongue along one cheek and then the other to taste your salty tears in his mouth.

“i wonder if your pussy tastes as good as your blood or tears.” rafe looks down, still buried inside of you. you're grateful he hasn't started moving yet, giving you time to adjust.

rafes hand wanders lower, his fingertip swiping over your clit, making your body jolt at the sudden flash of pleasure before he moves lower, rubbing at where you are connected as he gathers some of your wetness onto his finger.

he brings it up to his mouth slowly, making sure you're watching as his tongue licks your juices. rafe lets out a low moan, eyes fluttering closed. “delicious, baby. i think i like the way your cunt tastes more than your tears.”

you gulp, hoping he won't continue or want further taste. you know you won't be able to hold your moans back after just the brief feeling of him touching your clit, and you're trying not to give him the satisfaction of showing your pleasure as much as you can help it.

“but ill have to eat your pussy another time.” rafe continues. “and explore your other holes…” rafes eyes are on your mouth, but you know he has no limits to what he could force you to do, not when he is so intimidating, knife at the ready. “i need to fuck you right now though. i hope you're opened up enough baby because im about to destroy this pretty little cunt.

rafes hips rock back slowly before snapping forward, a squelching sound filling the room as he pounds forward, no restraint in the sudden speed and intensity of his thrusts.

you have no choice, having to reach up to grip rafes shoulders so as to not fall backwards. you see the smirk on his face, glimmer of amusement in his eye, especially when you let out a small moan.

“you like my dick, huh, baby?” rafe questions, tilting his head to the side. he gives you a particularly hard thrust to cap off his sentence. “not even gonna have to threaten you with a knife next time you're enjoying it so much.”

you hate that his words are true, rafes cock hitting you perfectly with every thrust, touching you in places no man has ever been able to reach before.

“tell me you like it. tell me you can’t get enough of my cock.” rafe grunts, hands squeezing your hips so tightly that you can already feel the bruises forming, purple blooming under the grip of his fingertips.

“i-i like it.” you mutter, hoping that satisfies rafe, not wanting him to threaten you with the knife again.

“baby.” rafe grunts out, the cute nickname in such contrast to the angry look on his face. “that’s not all i said. keep going.” “i can’t get enough of your cock.” you say quickly, fearing retaliation. “i love it. feels so good.” rafes expression shifts to a smile. “thats a good girl. now rub your clit for me, c’mon.” rafe encourages you. you let go of his shoulder with one hand, having to wrap your arm around his shoulders to keep yourself up, pulling you both even closer together. you can feel every breath rafe takes against your face, warm and wet just like his cock inside of you.

your hand moves slowly down your body. you glance at the knife next to you, wondering if you could reach out for it, make a play for control.

“y/n.” rafe growls, pushing his hips so deep into you that you slide back slightly on the smooth surface of the desk. “i said touch your fucking clit. make yourself cum for me.” “o-okay.” you press your fingers against your clit, rubbing quickly. your traitorous body loves the feeling, a small moan slipping from your mouth as your high builds.

“good. good.” rafe coos. he leans in to press a kiss to your mouth. you keep your lips firmly sealed together until rafes tongue forces his way inside. you drop your jaw open, knowing there is no point in fighting his advances.

“damn, baby, can feel you clenching ‘round my dick.” rafe moans, only briefly pulling away before continuing to kiss you, dominating your mouth as his tongue flicks against yours. you hate that its true, you can feel your orgasm growing closer and closer.

“you’re so wet, are you sure i’m not the one being forced into this here?” his cock is swelling inside of you. you know whats coming, just as he’s threatened.

“you’re sick, rafe cameron.” you manage to say, brows briefly furrowing together before your orgasm breaks free, your back arching, bare chest pressing against rafes, your fingers slowing as your clit pulses.

“oh fuck.” rafe mutters out a quiet curse before you can feel him releasing inside of you, filling you up, cum pouring into your unprotected womb.

“i may be sick.” rafe presses a kiss to your open mouth. “but i’m yours.” rafe picks the knife back up, your eyes widening. “and you’re mine.”

he moves before you can react, grabbing both your wrists and holding them behind your back, forcing your back to arch as your breasts are put on display, his softening cock still buried in your cunt, trapping his cum inside of you.

“this is to make sure you don’t forget that.” rafe turns the tip of the knife towards your skin. you would struggle, but you know that just makes things worse as you cry out when he cuts a thin line down over the swell of your breast. he makes three other quick shorter cuts, your blood spilling down your abdomen.

“don’t worry.” rafes voice is kind as if he didn’t just scar you. “they’re not that deep. just enough to mark you.”

rafe raises the tip of the knife to his mouth, turning it last minute to run the smooth edge over his tongue, cleaning your blood off of it as his eyes gloss over.

“now i’m going to be watching you.” he finally pulls out, making your boy shudder at the sudden loss of him filling you up, cum sliding out of your destroyed pussy onto the desk below you. “and if you try to get help. or let another man touch you, when you’re mine, i will use this knife on everyone you love, and then you.” he points the tip at you, your eyes widening as the pain blossoms in your chest, not wanting to be cut any more.

“understand?” his head quirks to the side.

you have no choice but to nod.

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awearywritersworld · 3 months

Text

the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Text

Just The Beginning

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Words: 2.2K

Requested: Yes / No

Request: Hey! First of all i love your writing like every time you post I go WILD anyways.. I’ve been thinking a lot about kind of a prequel to the mini lando series in which Lando and reader have been trying for a baby but haven’t been successful and as they loose hope, reader gets sick so lando goes to the pharmacy to get reader some medicine and when reader wakes up he calls him like “maybe bring a pregnancy test too” and lando is like “omgomgomg it can’t be” and he gets like super excited and anxious and everyone at the pharmacy is like “first time?” Anyways, turns out reader is finally pregnant with Aiden?!! 😭😭😭

Rating: R because of difficult topics

Warnings: Difficultly getting pregnant, losing hope, feeling of failure and not good enough, relationship difficulties, ANGST, fluff, I'm sure there are more warnings, please read this carefully if you have trouble reading this topic

Synopsis: Lando and you have wanted to be parents for the longest time, but maybe it just wasn't meant to be

Mini Lando / New Addition / Mini Lando Masterlist

"Lando, don't get your hopes up." Hands placed over your mouth as you watch the timer on your phone. Lando nods, but you can't miss the excited smile he tries so hard to hide.

"I won't. I promise." You refuse to look at the white and blue test on the counter before you two. Three years married, Carlos and Charles having children, and the two of you getting baby fever a year ago have two of you trying to have your own children. "Lando, stop." You snap, placing your hand on your husband's bouncing leg.

"Sorry." He stops, rubbing sweaty hands on his jeans. He knew you didn't mean to snap, but the tension was intense after multiple negative tests and tears. The shrieking beeps of the timer have you jumping, head dropping as you can't look at the test. "Want me to look?" Lando's voice held no excitement.

"Please." Standing, he grabs the test. How was he to tell you it was negative again? It was already a thought in your mind that you might have problems. "It's negative, isn't it?" Lando turns, your red eyes boring into his sad ones. "That's okay, though. We can try again." He places the test down, reaching for you.

You stand, leaving the bathroom, heading to your office, and slamming the door. Lando flinches, hearing the soft echoes of your cries. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, yet for the past three months, you shoved him away every time that negative popped up. Sliding down the counter, he buries his head in his arms, his own tears slipping down his face.

Wiping his face, he sniffles and stands, heading to your office. "Y/n, please open the door." He begs, just wanting to hold his wife. "Go away!" You scream something thumping on the door. "Okay." Lando whimpers out. "I'm going to.....I'm going for a driver. I'll be back." You let out a chest-rattling gasp hearing the soft thuds of him walking away.

You don't know when you stopped crying. The feeling of being hollow was all you could make out. Lando was still not back; you wouldn't blame him if he never returned. He wanted to be a father so badly, and while you could give him everything, you couldn't give him this. Lando wanted to talk to you, but you couldn't voice those dark thoughts you kept having.

How could you tell the love of your life you felt like a failure? The man who loved you more than driving that he should leave you and find someone else who could give him children. The terror that gripped you at the possibility of Lando doing that left you sick. The empty promises you two whispered to one another, the baby names, the pictures of the future that were slowly slipping away.

The mechanical whirl of the garage door opening gets you moving. Heading back to the bathroom, you throw the test away just for it to join the rest of those false hopes and dreams. The garage door opens and closes with keys jingling as you clean your face. You plaster a look of calm. You mastered the look and act of you're fine.

"Baby?" Lando's voice carries through the house, drawing you out of the bedroom. "I'm here." A loud sigh as he rounds the corner. Those doubts rile up hearing that sigh. Was he sighing because you're still here? Because he came home? Regretting marrying you? "Hi." His soft smile greets you.

"Sorry about earlier. I need to start dinner." Lando watches as you sidestep him, heading straight for the kitchen. "Forget dinner. Let's go out, get some fresh air." Closing your eyes, you try hard to clamp down on the anxiety that creeps into your bones. "No, I want to stay home. I'm tired." Lando nods, swallowing hard as he walks away. He always walked away, never wanting to fight with you anymore.

He was giving up. Lando would leave you soon, and you don't blame him. You failed.

Dinner and the house were silent for the rest of the day.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"She refuses to talk to me." Carlos hums, sipping his beer as the two watch Y/n play with little Santiago. "Have you tried therapy?" Lando bristles, as mentioned. "If she would talk to me, Carlos, I would mention it." He hisses, tearing the label off his beer.

"Don't get snappy with me. You two are made for one another, and this is just a....rough patch." Carlos smiles, waving at his little boy, who Y/n bounces, talking to Carlos's wife. "This isn't a rough patch Carlos. She wants children, and I....I can't even give her them." Carlos's smile fades, turning to look at his dearest friend.

"Have you two ever been to a fertility clinic? Tested? Anything?" Carlos knew what Lando was like. If anything went wrong, he put all the blame on him. It doesn't matter if it's an outside force. It was automatically his fault. "No, I'm terrified to mention it. What if she feels like, I'm placing all the blame on her?" Lando pulls his eyes away from you, and you look so damn happy.

For the first time in 4 months since that day in the bathroom, you looked like a shell of yourself. Holding Santi, you look alive. "Lando, you two clearly haven't been talking. Talk to your wife, and I know it's terrifying. But, what if you never talk, and this breaks the both of you?" Lando shakes his head no. "No, no, that's not possible." Carlos sighs, patting him on his shoulder.

"Did you have a good talk with Carlos?" Lando jumps, hearing your voice as he drives the two of you home. "What? Oh, yeah, it was fine." Lando shrugs, and you sigh. Carlos's wife had told you to start small and that it was best to start a conversation with your husband. "What'd you talk about?" Lando cringes at the question, not wanting to talk about it.

"Nothing, just the upcoming season and all that." You nod your head, anger bubbling in your chest at him, avoiding the conversation. "Nothing? Did you talk about nothing for the entire day?" Your husband's eyes slide over to you, the anger evident in your voice. "No, we didn't talk about nothing the entire day. But you wouldn't know that as you refuse to talk to me." Lando snaps, and you blink, shocked at his raised tone.

"Refuse to talk to you? I'm always talking to you, Lando! You're the one who refuses to even look at me!" Lando adjusts himself in his seat, trying to calm himself down. "Really? Really? Y/n, the last time we had a real fucking conversation was the morning you took that test. After that day, you refuse to let me touch you. I can't even approach the topic without you shutting down. My wife is gone and refuses to let me help, much less know the problem." Lando slams the car into park as you stare at him, shocked at this anger.

"I'm furious with you, dammit!" Lando throws the door open, storming to the front door as you follow, watching him reach a specific door. "Don't you dare go in there!" You scream, trying to stop him, but he throws you off. "Don't!" He throws it open as you stare at the empty room, with only one object in the middle.

"You can't even walk in here. This is our baby's room, and you keep that door closed. Why? What is it that you can't talk to me anymore? I'm your husband, and we've......do you not love me anymore? We haven't had sex in months; tell me that you blame me. I know you think it's my fault. Say it!" He screams at you pounding his chest as you stare at one another, crying.

"Blame you? Blame you!" You laugh, stepping foot into the nursery Lando built and decorated himself for the first time. "You want to be a father so damn bad! Do you know what it's like to hold Santi or Anthoine when we're with our friends? To see that look in your eyes and then the one of disappointment when you look at me?" As you step deeper into the room, you wipe the tears from your eyes. "Every damn test, that look grows with more hatred, and I know you hate me. I'm the wife that is failing at giving you children, Lando. I'm the reason why!" You laugh.

"I don't blame you, Lando." Spitting out the words, you stand inches from one another. "I'm scared I'll wake up one day, and you're gone. You left me because I'm a failure as a wife for not giving you children. I'm terrified that....that." Lando stops you, hugging you tightly as you collapse in his arms. "I don't think you're a failure. You are the strongest person I know, Y/n." Hearing those words, you gasp out loud as you cry loudly.

"I love you, and we will have children. One day. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but we will have children one day."

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One Year Later

Therapy was going well for the two of you, and you could finally talk about everything. Lando how he felt he was to blame and not good enough. You, how you felt like a failure and that Lando would leave you. Everyone could see the change in your relationship, how you both looked lighter and happier. Your therapist suggested taking a break from trying to have children, and you did.

The two of you talked of the pressure it put on both of you, that it was a weight on your chest. Lando agreed that waiting would be best, and if the two try again, talk to a specialist first. Traveling around the world and just enjoying yourselves as well was communicating was important now. The nursery door was kept shut, but you added small things here and there.

Except right now, you've been bedridden with the flu. Everything smelled horrible, and the food tasted gross. You've been throwing up and just wanting Lando next to you the only time you've felt a semblance of being your healthy self. "I'm going to the pharmacy. Be back." Lando whispers as you wave him off. You can't do another day like this.

Laying in bed, you can only think everything over for the past month. Month. Maybe it was your period, you've never really had to go through this often, but it did happen. Except.....

Eye flying open, you scramble to grab your phone calling Lando. "What, is something wrong?" Lando's panicked voice fills your ear after the 2nd ring. "No, um...you remember last month when we got a little careless?" Lando chuckles, the memories very clear as he thinks about you and where he- "Wait? Do you think?" Lando's eyes widen as he tries so hard not to get excited.

"I...I don't know. Pick one up. Please." Lando agrees as a soft ding of the pharmacy lets the workers know someone has walked in. "Hi, can I get some anti-nausea meds and a pregnancy test?" He can't help the giant smile that fills his face. The lovely older lady behind the counter smiles at him. "First time, sweetie?" He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Kinda? I mean....this is." She raises her hand, stopping his stutters. "I understand; I hope it all goes well." Lando slaps the money on the counter and rushes off with a wave. Running home, no need to announce he's back as you're there grabbing the test.

And here you are again, sitting on the same tub ledge. Watching the seconds tick by, the same hope and feelings of doubt cover you both. Neither of you says anything, both jumping out of your skin at the shrieking timer.

Reaching for the test, Lando snaps your hand down. Holding it. "Wait, just wait." He breathes, staring at you. "Whatever it says, it doesn't matter. It's not my fault nor yours. We're not failures, and we will have children one day. It doesn't matter how or when, but we will love them no matter what. And I'll love you until I die. Okay?" You nod, swallowing as you stand, grabbing the test.

Your hands start to shake as tears begin to fall; Lando sighs. "Hey, it's okay. We should make that appointment, huh?" He laughs, trying to lighten the mood as you shake your head no. "It's positive." You whisper, his head snapping up, not believing your words. "What?" Standing up, you laugh, showing him the test. "It's positive." You repeat as he covers your shaking hand, trying to read the test.

"It's positive? It's positive!" He laughs, scooping you up as he spins you around. The two of you laugh and cry. "We're going to be parents," Lando whispers, holding you close. "We're going to be parents." You repeat, neither of you believing this; Lando giggling. "Aiden." You pull back, confused why he'd say that name. "Aiden, if it's a boy, Odette if it's a girl." You smile, kissing your husband gently.

"It's perfect." He nods, hand lying on your stomach. "I will love you for the rest of my life. You have no idea how loved you already are."

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