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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months

Text

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy.

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate.

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for.

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period.

Your cycle had been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag.

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military.

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it.

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response.

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood.

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration.

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.”

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man.

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work.

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband.

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending.

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie.

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!”

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath.

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-”

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.”

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door.

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway.

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it.

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood.

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear.

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants.

Your period had come.

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie.

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ”

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply.

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.”

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first.

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.”

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘”

“Oh shut up, meanie.”

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍”

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way.

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch.

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband.

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest.

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace.

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you.

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-”

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse.

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem.

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.”

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him.

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you.

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you.

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza.

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-”

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?”

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?”

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest.

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy.

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth.

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you.

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core.

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you.

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices.

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period.

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man.

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths.

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.”

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds.

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt.

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot.

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool.

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over.

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue.

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name.

“Frankie, holy fuck.”

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could.

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.”

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt.

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace.

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over.

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him.

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity.

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him.

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate.

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word.

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.”

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there.

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did.

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.”

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in.

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.”

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high.

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss.

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss.

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight.

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.”

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 year

Text

Lip stick trend♡

I SO DESPERATELY WANT TO KISS THE UPPER RANKS <333

Warnings: just kissing, fluff, adding fem muzan and nakime in this, a little suggestive on Karakus part

Akaza

- doesn't understand why you want to kiss him with lip stick on but allows it

- tries not to smile each time you give him a kiss but kissing his forehead and nose made him break character

- has you on his lap while you kiss him

- he'll sit there in silence and you'd think he's tired of your bs but in reality he doesn't want you to stop

- boots his ego knowing your praising him with kisses and loving him

Douma

- very needy with it

- whines your name when you haven't kissed the same spot at least twice

- wants to share your lip stick and kisses you on the lips every minute or so

- would be all smiles and very talkative about how nice your kisses feel

- just like when you felt like you kissed him enough marking up his face you see douma frown knowing you had at least another hour with him

Kokushibo

- you'd really have to convince him

- Finds it a waste of time but when he seen the disappointment on your face thinking he'd reject the idea he makes time for you to do your act

- wouldn't want that many kiss marks on his face but he admits he really likes when you kiss his lips, chin and nose

- would stare at himself in the mirror for a good 5 minutes before wiping off the lip stick with a light grin

Fem muzan

- is the one leaving kiss marks on you

- would leave just enough kiss marks on your face but not too much and would leave some on your neck and collar bone

- would remind you who you belong to and how greatful you should be for muzan to do this trendy idea with you

- wouldn't want you washing it off for a solid week

Aizetsu

- He's so gloomy and always frowning but telling him you want to kiss him with lip stick on made his eyes light up

- would keep asking for more after every kiss you made

- would ask you to do this whenever he felt sad about you possibly leaving him (which is all the time)

- he would bring back any lip sticks he could find just for you to use and kiss all over his face again

Sekido

- you had to beg him for days just to do this trend and he finally gave in

- he would constantly complain about how your making a mess on his face a mess and how the lipstick might stain

- he'd get quite after complaining and would enjoy it without telling you

- would threaten you to not to this with the other clones, only him

Karaku

- he agreed with no hesitation but he wanted to wear lipstick and kiss you as well

- putting lip stick on Karaku was the fun part since he did look really pretty with it on

- he'd want you lipstick marks all over him, all over like his face, neck and chest and abs

- would kiss you everywhere as well and show you off to the other clones feeling very proud of himself

Urogi

- like Karaku he agreed with no hesitation because the idea of you leaving lipstick marks on him sounded fun

- one thing Urogi won't admit is that he's a little self conscious when it comes to his sharp tallons when it comes to anything soft since he only used them for fighting so he avoided hand holding

- you mainly left kiss marks on his claws and and he looked at you with a flushed expression loving how you didn't find his claws disturbing

- he makes sure to not have your kiss marks washed off his claw for a while

Nakime

- Had the time and didn't mind the idea

- She allowed you to kiss her face feeling very comfortable with you seeing her face from her bangs

- keeps asking when your done so she can kiss you to leave her lipstick marks on you

- she'd straddles your lap and holds your face kissing you all over and gives you a smile

#demon slayer #kny x reader #upper moons #fluff #akaza x reader #douma x reader #kokushibo x reader #fem muzan x reader #karaku x reader #aizetsu x reader #sekido x reader #urogi x reader #nakime x reader

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steddiealltheway · 8 months

Text

The Danger in Romanticizing (Ao3 Link)

"Steve, I'm serious, you might absolutely hate Eddie."

Steve sighs and relaxes against their couch. This is the third time today that Robin has given him this warning. "I'm not going to terrorize him to the point that Chrissy breaks up with you."

Robin raises her eyebrows at him as if he would seriously do it. "You don't know Eddie though. He's... he's someone you would've hated in high school. He's loud, nerdy, dramatic, and he was in a band."

"Robin, he sounds just like you."

Robin's jaw drops. "Take it back."

Steve laughs, "Come on, he sounds great. I don't know why you and Chrissy think we'll hate each other."

"He was bullied in high school by jocks just like you, but he threw it right back at them," Robin says while pacing. "And Eddie to Chrissy is the equivalent of you to me - her platonic soulmate. If you two don't like each other, then I don't know what we'll do."

Steve stands up and grabs Robin by the shoulders, stopping her pacing. "It's going to be fine. If anything, we'll just make polite small talk any time we see each other. As far as I'm concerned, you like him and he's kind to you, so he's good on my list."

Robin nods but she doesn't look convinced.

"I just can't believe that you two waited a month to introduce us."

Robin sighs and walks away from him, brushing off imaginary dust on their couch and chair. "It'll be easier to explain when you meet him."

"When are they supposed to get here again?"

Robin glances at the clock and goes pale. The doorbell rings and Steve feels a sudden rush of nerves. He doesn't know why he's so nervous to meet this man. He really likes Chrissy, and he can't imagine her being best friends with someone he wouldn't like.

Robin takes a deep breath and looks Steve over for a second sighing as if disappointed in something.

"What?"

"Nothing," Robin says quickly and rushes to the front door. She pauses and looks over her shoulder. "Just please be nice."

Steve gives her a thumbs-up and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for this mystery man to appear.

The door opens and Steve spots Chrissy first, sporting a very nervous smile, and then the door opens all the way to reveal Eddie.

And holy shit. With all the warnings, it never crossed Steve's mind that the man could be so damn hot. He's wearing a black t-shirt with some band on it that Steve doesn't know but the short sleeves show off a few tattoos that make him curious about how many he may be hiding under the rest of his clothes. He tries not to let his eyes wander for too long, so he doesn't dare stare for any longer, glancing back up at Eddie's face in hopes that he hasn’t been caught.

He feels his heart speed up a little bit as he finds Eddie looking him up and down quickly before shooting him a small smile. And god, he has dimples.

Steve smiles back at him and walks to the front door. He bends down to pull Chrissy into a hug first before pulling away to hold a hand out to Eddie. He takes it, and Steve's eyes catch on his rings quickly. He wonders if the whole tough exterior was built to protect him while simultaneously drawing attention. "Hey, I'm Steve."

"Eddie," he says back. And his damn voice goes straight through him.

"Oh shoot, I forgot to grab something from the store before we got here," Chrissy says. "Robin, will you come with me to get it?"

"I can-" Eddie starts to say, but Robin's already grabbing Chrissy's hand and pulling her out the front door.

It closes loudly and Steve winces at the noise.

Eddie turns to him and awkwardly smiles. "So..."

"So," Steve says, noticing the hesitation coming from Eddie. He wonders... "Can I just come out and ask if you've been getting the same warning that we might hate each other?"

"Yes!" Eddie says and lets out a deep breath. "And did they seriously just leave us alone thinking that?"

"They're lucky if we don't kill each other."

"If? Don't you mean 'when?'" Eddie asks with a teasing smile.

Steve laughs loudly and asks, "Do you want a beer or something?"

"God, I would love a beer."

Steve smiles and walks off to the fridge, grabbing two and gesturing Eddie over to the living room. They both sit on the couch a comfortable distance away from each other, and Steve ignores the itch to move closer. "So, I heard that you were in a band."

"And I heard you were a former jock."

Steve snorts and waggles his fingers at him. "Your worst nightmare."

Eddie dramatically leans away from him with a hand over his heart. "Good heavens, you're absolutely repulsive."

Steve finds himself laughing again. He has no idea why Robin thought he would ever hate this guy.

"So," Eddie says with a small smile, "What are you doing now, former jock? Chrissy hasn’t mentioned you being in any of her classes or hanging around the college, so I’m assuming you don’t go there."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the couch. "No, college isn’t for me. I'm working in sales at my dad's company. Specifically, as a car salesman." Eddie immediately cringes and Steve sighs, "Trust me. I know. But I'm absolutely horrible at my job. I can never bullshit someone. If they tell me what they're looking for, I'm giving them exactly that and not some overpriced bullshit."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "But you're still selling cars, so it sounds like you're doing your job."

"Not the way my dad wants me to," Steve complains.

"So, why don't you do something else?" Eddie asks point blank.

Steve's a little taken aback by the bluntness, but he appreciates it. He shrugs. "I got horrible grades in high school to the point that I couldn't get into even the easiest colleges. Working with my dad just seemed like the only option."

"For a while I was thinking about working at the plant with my uncle because high school was terrible for me. I managed to fail my senior year twice before graduating."

"So, what are you doing now?" Steve asks, curious about what other options there are.

Eddie leans back against the couch and takes a long swig of his beer. Steve tries not to focus on the tendons in his neck as he swallows. "I had this moment after I graduated where I suddenly realized that my creative outlets suddenly vanished. My band had to take a break because everyone but Gareth graduated and Jeff and Grant were going to college, and I could no longer run Hellfire Club which got rid of my Dungeons and Dragons outlet. And for some reason, I was struck with this great idea to write a novel."

He shifts, crossing his legs under himself and looking off in the distance with a sad smile. "I just sat down and wrote and wrote. It's like the words were pouring out of me, and I couldn't stop them. God, I barely slept." He pauses as if he's reliving the moment. "Then, I had this extremely rough draft of this book, and I started calling publishers and I went to the first one who would take me. But they read it and told me it would be better as a children's story."

Steve can't help but interject, "That's just one person's opinion though."

Eddie nods and drinks more of his beer. "Yes, but they offered to actually look at it and publish it once I simplified it."

"Did you do it?"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, and I mean, it brought in a decent amount of money that I've been cruising on, but I don't know. There were so many things I wanted to expand on. I was aiming for a whole book series."

Steve turns to him and sits crisscrossed. "So, what's the children's book about?"

Eddie sighs, "You're going to find it so dumb."

"Try me."

Eddie puts his beer down on the coffee table and leans in to Steve. "So, it takes inspiration from Dungeons and Dragons. And it's about this boy who has never felt like he's fit in. For some reason, he's always been disliked by people or shunned for being different. Then, he comes across this monster, one that he's heard terrifying stories about from all these different adventurers. But instead of attacking it, he tries a different approach and finds that he can befriend the monster, and he ends up naming him Dart and they travel together. And for once he doesn't feel alone."

Steve's jaw drops as Eddie continues to describe the story, feeling frozen in place.

"Then, they come across more creatures, and they find they're all evil because they're always under attack. And yes, some are just pure evil, but it doesn't define the whole species. Then, the story gets really cheesy..." Eddie trails off with a groan. "God, this is embarrassing."

Steve finally finds his voice and continues for him, "Then, he's practically hunted by the town who assumes he's evil because he's with all these monsters which they think he must have some sort of dark control over. But then when an even bigger monster comes and threatens to destroy the whole town, they turn to him for help. The boy becomes a hero, but he goes back with the rest of the monsters who always accepted him for who he was."

Eddie's eyes become considerably wider by the end of Steve's narration. "How do you...?"

Steve grabs his hand and pulls him to his room, opens the door, and goes through the small stack of books on the bottom shelf of his nightstand. He pulls out Eddie's book and holds it up. "You're Eddie Munson?"

Eddie nods, totally bewildered.

"Holy shit," Steve says with a big smile, "Dustin loves this book!"

"Dustin?"

"One of the kids I used to babysit, he's in high school now, but he went on about this book for weeks. He loves Dungeons and Dragons, and as soon as I saw it, I bought it for him. He thought it was some kind of joke because it's a children's book, but he read it and developed so many theories about it. He made all his friends buy it because he thinks it could change the whole universe of Dungeons and Dragons. Shit, you’re like a legend to him."

Eddie's mouth just opens and closes. "I- I don't know what to say."

"Could you possibly meet him sometime? No pressure at all, but he'd love you."

"Yeah! Definitely," Eddie says and excitedly bounces a bit. "God, I've never met a fan before."

"I have to warn you that he may be a bit much, and I don't think he would ever leave you alone after this. But it would make his entire year, maybe even his whole life."

Eddie just smiles widely and nods. "Yeah! Yeah, I mean, I can also be a lot, so I'm ready. Just let me know when."

Steve smiles and shakes his head. "This is so cool. And thank you, really, this means the world to me."

"Same here," Eddie says.

The two let the excitement bubble down a bit, but the smiles don't leave their faces. Eddie glances around though and asks, "No offense, but why is your room so..."

"Empty?" Steve fills in for him. Eddie nods. "Well, my parents didn't really let me decorate my room, and I've just never really known what I wanted to do with my own place. So, I've kind of put it on the back burner. Plus, I spend most of my time in Robin's room or in the living room."

Eddie looks around and shakes his head. "My room is covered in shit. It's like I never have enough wall space or floor space for everything I want."

"I can see why Robin and Chrissy thought we wouldn't like each other," Steve says, sitting on his bed covered in a plain blue comforter and patting the empty space next to him.

Eddie follows the cue and sits down. "That all feels like surface-level bullshit."

"I think they're so blinded by their love for each other that they couldn't think beyond it. I know Robin's scared shitless of messing things up."

"God, so is Chrissy. I swore that even if you were the biggest asshole I was going to pretend to like you. Luckily, you're making it easy."

Steve feels the tips of his ears turning red. "Same here."

Eddie smiles at him, and Steve feels so enamored by him that he can't help but ask, "So, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you seeing anyone?" Steve asks, hoping he doesn’t come off as too forward.

Eddie shrugs and looks down at his hands. "Sort of," he says and looks back at Steve. "I'm bisexual, so it's a little harder for me sometimes."

Bisexual. The label that Steve has personally struggled with for years.

"Shit, don't tell me your biphobic."

Steve snaps out of his mini panic and asks, "What?"

"You practically grimaced when I said bisexual. Or are you someone who is only okay with girls being in relationships but not guys?"

"No! No," Steve insists. He takes a deep breath. He's not sure what it is about Eddie that makes him feel so at ease, but he confesses, "It's just that... I think that I'm also bisexual. I don't know though. I know I've had feelings for guys and felt attraction, but I can't picture myself dating a guy. But I feel so horrible admitting that. Maybe I'm just a coward."

Eddie's expression shifts from guarded to sympathetic quickly. "Who can blame you though? The world sometimes just... sucks. But here's something that kind of blew my mind when learning about bisexuality - you can still have preferences. Like, for me, I have a preference towards men, but I can't deny that some girls I've had feelings for. Even Chrissy once upon a time, but I quickly realized how much better things were platonically. You can always have a preference for women; it doesn't have to be half and half."

It's like something finally clicks in Steve's head. He breathes a sigh of relief. "Where have you been all my life?" he asks somewhat dramatically.

Eddie laughs, "Being kept away by Robin and Chrissy."

Steve smiles and traces their conversation back a bit. He lands on a question and asks, "So, how are you sort of dating someone?"

Eddie groans and runs his hands over his face. "There's this guy I've been somewhat hooking up with at this bar. And he's just perfect, you know?"

"Oh no," Steve says, feeling the familiar phrase wash over him.

"What?"

Steve really looks at Eddie, accessing him fully before declaring, "You're a romanticizer."

Eddie scoffs. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"'He's just perfect,'" Steve mimics him. "It's the dead giveaway. Plus, I am too. It gets me in trouble a lot. But I hate seeing it in other people. Like there's this asshole I work with that my dad loves but I absolutely despise. His name is Collin, and he's constantly bragging about all these women he has practically begging at his feet for his attention and shit. Then, at these work parties, Collin's wife will always just go on about how perfect her husband is. God, it kills me because she's so blind to it all. I would tell her, but my dad would kill me if I did anything that potentially would affect Collin working for him."

Steve sighs and clutches Eddie's book closer to his chest, not noticing until now how he's been unconsciously using it as a source of comfort. "Anyways, I just hate seeing people love blindly."

"I've done the same thing," Eddie admits, "But this time it feels different."

"Ten bucks he sucks."

This startles a laugh out of Eddie, but he sticks his hand out. "You're on." They shake on it quickly. "So, what about you? Are you currently romanticizing anyone?"

Steve smiles sadly. "Not at the moment, but feel free to call me out on it when I do."

"Looking forward to it," Eddie says with a smile. "Now tell me, do you have to wear those awful polos to do sales?"

"I do, but I'll have you know that I actually like those awful polos."

Eddie stands up and gasps, "I'm appalled. Please don't tell me you have more than five in your closet."

"I have way more than five. I actually almost wore one today, but I went with my comfort sweater instead."

Eddie walks slowly toward his closet door. "Is this where the source of disaster is?"

Steve raises his eyebrows and nods.

"May I?" Eddie asks with his hand on the knob.

"Prepare yourself."

Eddie takes a dramatic deep breath to gather himself before swinging the door open dramatically and yelling, "It's worse than I thought!"

"You haven't even looked through it!"

"I saw more than two collared shirts," Eddie says in horror. "Steve, I've decided that Robin and Chrissy are absolutely correct, and there's no way I could ever like you."

Steve laughs, but is interrupted by Chrissy and Robin suddenly barging into the room yelling, "What happened?"

Eddie and Steve look at them and laugh.

"We didn't hear you come in," Eddie says.

"We wanted to check the atmosphere as it was, but we heard you say the thing about not liking Steve and we thought..." Chrissy trails off.

Steve finds Robin staring at him while looking worried. "Steve, are you okay?"

Steve frowns. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"You're holding your comfort book."

Steve flushes red and puts his head in his hands.

"His what?" Chrissy and Eddie ask.

"His comfort book. He reads it or makes me read it whenever he's sick, has a bad day, or misses Dustin."

"Robin," Steve groans, embarrassed by his secret being revealed.

The mattress shifts beside him and Steve glances toward the source, finding Eddie amusedly smiling down at him. "So, you're also a fan."

"Wait, what am I missing?" Robin asks.

"Eddie wrote that book," Chrissy answers and crosses her arms, "But he also tells no one about it."

Robin's jaw drops, but Steve ignores it to smile at Eddie. "Aw, so tell me, why me?"

A small blush appears on Eddie's cheeks. "And why me about your..." he trails off, looking nervously toward Chrissy.

Steve glances at Robin who looks at him, gesturing to explain. "I told him I was bisexual."

Robin's jaw drops again. She and Chrissy exchange a look of bewilderment.

Steve throws an arm around Eddie's shoulders and says, "Looks like you two were very wrong."

"And we're very upset that you kept us away from this beautiful friendship for so long."

"Very upset," Steve agrees.

"Oh god, I think we've created a monster," Robin says.

Chrissy just giggles.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the monsters Eddie creates,” Steve comments.

Eddie laughs and Steve looks at him fondly. He doesn’t think that Robin has ever been so wrong about something because there’s no way Steve could ever dislike Eddie.

Part Two :)

Welcome to my new series! :))) I have so many shenanigans planned. And I’m doing a tag list! Just ask me and you’ll be tagged <3

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #the danger in romanticizing fic

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 1 year

Text

Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

#i am constantly delighted at how “crew” rhymes with “AU”#my art #one piece #one piece fan art #tony tony chopper #chopper #nico robin #cyborg franky #soul king brook #jinbe #one piece modern au #op modern au

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starkwlkr · 1 year

Note

Could you please do a ruby/baby leclerc imagine where she's a bit older and Charles being the overprotective dad, tells her she can't wear that and she has to change, and they fall out and then make up again

teen angst | charles leclerc

give my girl ruby a break, charles!! and for this, ruby is aged up to 18 and mathéo is 14 so double the teen angst for charles 😳 also sorry charles, you’re sticking with ferrari in this one until idk

Charles was looking for his family. He had even called Y/n, but she didn’t answer. He was getting frustrated, but all his worries left when he saw his wife of many years walk into the Ferrari garage with their two kids by her side. Even after all this time, he felt like a teenager in love with her.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me.” Charles teased, giving his wife a kiss on the lips to greet her.

“I would never.” Y/n smiled at her husband. “We’re going to go see Pierre for a bit before the race begins. Ruby wants to wish him good luck.”

“Where is my good luck— wait, what are you wearing, Ruby Jules?” Charles looked at his daughter’s outfit. She had a black skirt and a cropped shirt.

“I found it in maman’s closet. She said she wore it on a first date.” Ruby said.

“No, I remember what she wore on our first date and it wasn’t that. We went to her favorite restaurant and she wore a black dress.” Charles confirmed.

“I said she wore it for a first date, papa, i didn’t mean yours.” Ruby teased and kissed her father’s cheek. “Bye, I’m going to see uncle Pierre. Good luck, old man.” Then she left in search of the Frenchman.

“Can I go see uncle Daniel?” Mathéo eagerly asked.

“In a second, baby. Your papa looks like he’s about to faint. What’s wrong, Charles?” Y/n asked.

“Y/n, did you not tell her to change?” Charles sighed. “I have a jacket in my drivers room, let me go get it.”

Before Charles could leave, Y/n stopped him. “Charles, it’s hot today and you’re going to make her wear a jacket? She looks nice.”

“I think she still looks ugly.” Mathéo added.

“Théo, what did i tell you about making fun of your sister?”

“She’s not here so it doesn’t count!”

Charles shook his head. “What if I give her a Ferrari shirt? I think I have one—“

“No one is changing. Charles, just accept that our little girl is growing up and her style is changing. She’s not going to wear shirts with rainbows on them anymore.” Y/n tried to get her husband to understand, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“I’m still not happy about it.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

As the Monaco national anthem played while Charles stood on the podium, he kept a close eye on his little girl, even if she was considered an adult in most countries. Ruby could tell he was mad about the outfit, but she didn’t see any problem with it. If her mother wore it years ago, why couldn’t she?

“I’ll be in dad’s driver’s room. Maybe he can actually celebrate without babysitting me from the podium.” Ruby rolled her eyes. She kissed her mother’s cheek and excused herself from the people around her.

Charles’ eyes still followed her until she was out of sight. He then mumbled a ‘what?’ to his wife wondering why Ruby had left even though the ceremony wasn’t done yet. His wife just shook her head.

Shit he thought to himself.

After the ceremony, he only had one person on his mind. His Ruby Jules.

“Go talk to her, she’s upset. She’s in your drivers room. Y/n said.

“Now can we go see uncle Daniel?” Mathéo asked for the millionth time.

Charles made his way to his drivers room, occasionally thanking people who congratulated him on his win. When he stood infront of the door to his room, he knocked them waited a couple seconds.

“Mon chéri? It’s papa. Can I come in?”

“It’s your room, dad.” Ruby said softly.

Charles turned the doorknob and opened the door. He found Ruby seated on the tiny sofa on her phone. “I saw you left before the could spray you with the champagne.” He tried to lighten up the mood.

“I’ve seen you do it many times.” Ruby mumbled.

Charles stayed silent for a bit since he didn’t really know how to even speak to her without making her upset. He didn’t remember himself being this difficult to talk to when he was a teen, or was he? He was definitely going to ask him mother about it later.

“I know you don’t like my outfit. But I like it and maman likes it too. These are hers after all.” Ruby spoke, breaking the silence between them.

“Your maman and I had a talk and I have to accept that you’re growing up. But you’re my Ruby Jules, my little girl. You know when you were small, you would always ask for ice cream at every race. . . Do you still want to get ice cream?” Charles asked the teen.

Ruby cracked a smile. Of course she remembered always asking for ice cream. That was her thing. “I do. But are you really mad about my outfit?”

“Furious? No, but you are growing up and you’re not going to wear rainbow shirts or princess fairy dresses anymore so if you like to dress like this then I say you look pretty.” Charles nodded.

“Princess fairy dresses,” Ruby chuckled. “For my nineteenth birthday, I say we bring back the princess fairy theme. I miss it.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #dad!charles leclerc #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine

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moronkombat · 7 months

Note

How would the men of mk1 react if their partner ( s/o ) is about to die? like, if he/she is bleeding to death, IDK MAN I'M CURIOUS ☠️.

Screaming and exclaiming that it isn't your time to die, that it can't be your time to die

There's so much more you had to do, so many more conquests to be had. He's desperate and panicked, he looks wild and mad as he holds you in his arms, blood coating his hands

Kenshi is cold, freezing as he holds you and boiling crimson spills from your body. He tells you it will be alright and that help is on the way

He says this more to convince himself rather than convince you. You know the truth but he can't accept it. Tries to stop the bleeding with his hands, with anything he can find but it won't stop so he continues to fool himself into thinking you will pull through this even after you have breathed your last breath

Disbelief, shock. This can't be happening again. How could he have let this happen again? How could he have failed you?

He's begging you not to leave him. Syzoth pleads for you to stay with him and not to close your eyes no matter what. He can't lose you, he can't be alone again. He needs you, you can't leave

Almost can't believe it's happening. He laughs but it's not a typical one from him. It's empty, breaking apart

He tells you to get up, to stop playing games and fooling around. Havik begins demanding you move, you stand up but you don't, you can't and soon he is grabbing at his head and screaming. He can't process that he's losing you. This isn't supposed to happen

At a complete loss. He wants to believe what he is seeing an illusion, some nasty trick but this is reality

Believes he can save you. He just needs to use your blood to heal you but he can't no matter how hard he tries to wield it. It is not within his power to do so. Curses himself that he so weak, that he cannot save you from dying

Shang Tsung breaks. All that charm, all that wit is reduced to man who is desperate to save someone from death. It is an impossible task

He holds you, he calls to you. Shang Tsung cries over you as you bleed out in his arms. He mutters to himself that he will find a way to save you but it falls on deaf ears and soon he is thinking how can he bring you back

Devastated and begs for someone to come and save you. He pleads for help but there is none to come. He is helpless, he is powerless

Quan Chi vows to never be this powerless again. He promises to reclaim your soul and bring you back to him and never let you go again

Inconsolable. An absolute sobbing mess of a man. He apologizes over and over to you. He tells you that he hates how he couldn't protect you, how he failed you

Tomas cannot cope with the sight of you dying in his arms. Once so full of life now bleeding out and turning cold. He hates this, he wants to take your place but that is impossible. He has not the ability to change time

Tries to hold himself together and remain hopeful for you. He even tries to make a light joke about how it's just a scratch but the both of you know better

Soon he begins to cry and tell you that he's sorry. Raiden says he is not ready for you to go, that he wants more time with you. You two planned to see the world together but what was there left to see now except chilling death?

All that proud and tough guy facade he wears crumbles apart and now he pleading and desperate for you not to die. He swears and calls for help again and again but he knows there is no salvation coming

Kung Lao screams, holding you close as he curses the world and all of its gods. How could they have let you die? How could they have determined this to be your fate. He curses them again and again as blood continues to fall

All composure is gone. How could Bi-Han hope to remain steeled when the love of his life begins to die in his hands. He cries even when he tries not to

He holds you, looking at your expression as it pales. You're losing blood to quickly, he can't stop it. You're dying, you're going to die and he weeps and sobs. Bi-Han keeps you close even after your body has gone much colder than his own. He doesn't want to let you go. His brothers have to pull him away from your body

His sadness manifests through anger. He is raging, screaming and killing everything that is left in front of him. He will not rest until they are all dead

Shao will hold you but it's too late. You are gone and his hand falls and eyes close. He doesn't cry. Shao doesn't know how to shed tears but he is frozen and silent. No one dare approach him now

Although Geras knows death is a part of life, to see yours is destroying. He doesn't want it to happen, especially as he holds you close and watches you bleed out

He thinks for a moment about re-writing this moment but he knows he cannot. Geras must not be so selfish to twist time in order to bring back the most important person to him

Broken. Completely heartbroken. He had tried so hard to protect. Liu Kang had slaved over keeping you away from such a fate and even still death has found you

All he can do is hold you and look upon you as life quickly leaves you. He apologizes and tells you how this is his fault for not protecting you enough and for not keeping you safe

Kuai Liang is completely defeated. He feels as though he is doomed to lose all those who come into his life. All he cherishes seem to be taken from him

Silently cries but tries to smile as he holds your hand and tell you just how much he has loved you. He will always love you no matter what, nothing will ever stop that. When your body has become so cold, he still weeps and finally begins to sob

Never had he wanted to lose anyone else. His family, his way of life and now you too. Baraka feels as though he has been cursed by creation

Tries to stop the bleeding but he knows it is too late. Still, he tries and tells you to keep holding for just a bit longer. You do not have that time to spare and when your breath has left you, Baraka screams and wails

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munson-blurbs · 8 months

Note

Hey can I do one of the spirit Halloween requests. Sour Patch Kids/Butterfinger. And can it be with Eddie please. Can include smut if that's OK. Thank you 😊

Enemies-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

(+ 3 other anon requests)

I couldn't figure out a way to make it smutty without it seeming forced, but there are definitely some raunchy elements. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Eddie is mean to Reader, allusion to masturbation (18+ only, minors DNI), Reader wears a skirt

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Absolutely not.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, a sneer cursing his lips.

“Come on, man!” Mike grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I told Nancy I’d help her out.”

Eddie scoffs, turning away from you and your best friend’s younger brother. “Yeah, well, I didn’t promise shit,” he retorts. “We don’t need anymore players, and we definitely don’t need her.”

Your lower lip quivers, and you bite it to stop from crying. “I, um, i-it’s okay, Mike,” you hurriedly reassure him. “I’ll tell Nancy you tried.” You turn around and leave the drama room, tears blurring your vision.

“What the hell is your problem?” Mike yells loud enough that you can hear him halfway down the hallway, despite the pounding in your ears. “Nancy said she’s really into DnD. She could, I dunno, be our sub when Lucas has a game or something.”

“Am I speaking a different language? No. N-O. Not happening.”

Gareth cocks a bemused brow. “Are you still pissed off about—”

“SHUT UP!” Eddie’s bellow reverberates around the tiny room. “Look, are we gonna play or not?”

“I gotta go make sure she’s okay before Nancy kicks my ass,” Mike huffs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Thanks for nothing,” he spits at Eddie.

No one says anything for a moment; the Hellfire Club is eerily silent. Finally, Jeff speaks up. “That was pretty harsh, Ed.”

“That was harsh?!” Eddie guffaws and clenches his jaw. “Me telling her she can’t join Hellfire is harsh, but she can talk shit about me to her friends, and that’s totally fine? Cool, got it.” He shakes his head at the memory. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been walking to your locker to ask you out, only to overhear you telling Nancy that you wish he would disappear and leave you alone.

“Why do you even care so much?” Lucas asks, now thoroughly invested in the drama.

“Because he loves her,” Gareth pipes up, “and she thinks he’s an obnoxious prick, which is accurate.” He’s unfazed by Eddie’s glare, having been on the receiving end of his anger many a time. “Dude, you embarrassed the shit outta her in history! Why would she be nice to you?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insists at the same time Gareth says, “As soon as she walked into class, he jumped on his desk and shouted, ‘there’s the prettiest girl in Hawkins!’”

All of the guys let out a collective groan. “You can’t do that with a shy girl!” Lucas groans. If Eddie wasn’t six inches taller than him, he’d smack him upside the head. “Max would kick my ass if I did that to her.”

“She probably thought you were making fun of her,” Dustin points out, and Eddie’s face falls when everyone else nods in agreement. “Have you tried, like, talking to her and not at her?”

“No,” Eddie admits, scuffing the toe of his Reeboks on the tile floor. “Shit, I gotta fix this–I’ll be right back.”

You’re nearly at the double doors of Hawkins High’s entrance when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and muster up all of your courage, but your words still rush out too quickly. “I’m gonna tell Nancy that Hellfire wasn’t my scene. You’re in the clear, okay? Just…go away.”

But he doesn’t go away; he comes closer. The anger that previously flamed behind his eyes is extinguished, replaced by concern. “Can we talk?” he softly asks. “We can go in my van so it’s more private. Please.”

“Fine.” The desperation in his tone convinces you to give in. You follow him to the van, offering him the smallest smile when he opens the door and motions for you to go inside. Pushing aside a stray guitar pick, you take a seat on the carpeted floor.

Eddie takes a deep breath, twisting his rings around his fingers nervously. “I, um, I’m sorry. For, y’know, the whole thing in history class.”

You suck your lip between your teeth before responding. “S’okay,” you mumble. You really want to tell him off so he knows how hurt you were by his teasing, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

“No, it’s not. I…I should’ve told you when it was just the two of us,” he counters, drawing a confused look from you. “What?”

“Told me what?”

“That I think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” He offers his own puzzled expression when you scramble to your knees and lean for the door handle. “Wait! Where’re you going?”

There’s a lump in your throat that you force yourself to swallow before you can speak. “This is obviously a big joke to you, Eddie. ‘Ha ha, let’s point out how ugly the nerdy girl is!’”

“No. No.” Eddie’s voice is firm but kind. “It wasn’t a joke. I really think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. And I like you. A lot,” he adds with a nervous laugh. “That whole, uh, performance was my way of flirting.”

You’re still unconvinced, cocking a brow in disbelief, so he continues. “How about this: since I embarrassed you, I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret. And if I’m lying about liking you, you can tell everybody.”

You relent for the second time today. “O-Okay. That’s fair.”

“All right.” Eddie rubs his palms on his jeans, slick with anxious perspiration. “So, remember that time that I got to class, all…sweaty and out of breath and stuff?”

You nod. “Mhm.” He’d told Mrs. Click that he’d been in gym class, but you knew he’d just come from lunch like you had. You’d figured he’d had a deal out in the woods and ran back to school.

“Well, um,” he looks down at the carpet, “it was because I saw you in the cafeteria wearing this cute little skirt, and I had to…take care of myself. In the boys’ room.” He presses his palms to his eyes and says, mostly to himself, “No fuckin’ way did I just admit that.”

You’re shell-shocked. Like joining Hellfire, the skirt in question was another one of Nancy’s ideas to ease you out of your comfort zone. You had no idea he’d even noticed. “Y-You liked it?” you ask dumbly.

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Eddie chuckles. “I gotta stop thinkin’ about it before…” His eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans, a small tent already visible against the seam, and he hurries to switch subjects. “D’you still wanna play DnD with us? I promise I’m usually less of a dick. And a perv.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I have my doubts about that last part,” you tease, only half-joking, “but, yeah. I would love to play with you guys.”

“Awesome.” Eddie’s face lights up. “And maybe after, you and I can grab something to eat? Maybe catch a movie or somethin’?”

Before you can chicken out, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a date.”

The two of you walk back into the school, Eddie’s hand on the small of your back. “Oh, um, one more thing?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you change into that skirt?”

#trope or treat #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #smut #eddie munson angst

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cherryredstars · 8 months

Note

OMG I SAW YOUR REQUEST IS OPEN AND OMG I WANTED TO ASK IF YOU CAN MAKE AN demon!MIGUEL x but Innocent/cute/ werid/quirkFmAngel! Reader (like the demon CAN be also called the spider demon that all work under Miguel eyes😝💅😩)

Reader is a angel that believes that there goodness in any creature that mean Miguel.yea but she doesnt believed in some angel like her ex- boyfriend,reader finally caught her boyfriend cheating while hanging out with the group while eating there ice cream or looking in the heaven village or city idk ??😣😭 ( miles, gwen, and pav and his girlfriend )which when Gwen and hobie and miles was shocked and gasp loudly at something that pulled reader attention and when reader saw it, reader came running away in tear at the sight of it.

and ran away far away from it ,While pav girlfriend with hobie beating his as while gwen is telling hobie that " ENOUGH HOBBIE " while pav is trying to stop his girlfriend from cheering on hobie from SCREAMING at reader ex- boyfriend for making reader spend ALL her time with such a USELESS F ING ANGEL WHO doesnt work FOR SH%T

meanwhile Miguel, is some were in heaven and hell which is what I called is the void or the pocket of both lands and that where Miguel is doing his business(while wearing his spider logo LIKE imagine him wearing an tight suit with some sort of amor ) killing angel and entity\antomty (I forgot the name💀) in his way with Layla of course but only telling him how many are there but that where reader came running away and fall into and also hitting a large rock and managed to hurt one of her wings,badly, which cause her to stare around for any help or tried to see if she know what is this place she flew into, And Miguel was done doing assignments (ahem- killing) amd then see her in such a state that make his heart beat again,

Meanwhile reader is crying not of fear, but she not in fear of the man in front of him.. She finding it sexist (ok I want to make reader weird,or quirky💀😭) ok it not her problem OR FAULT OK it was his aura, big BOTTY OF A ASS that reader probably think she has seen in her life form a boy ✊😝 and his horns,

reader realized she still have tear in her eyes and started wipes her face and getting up from the floor but then the pain of her wings finally came. (And Layla being Layla teleport to Miguel to see if he done with work and see reader on the floor with a broken wing with blood and Layla making an deal or some thing idk to convince him to let her live while saying in a language Spanish but that a ancient towards reader)

NFSW PART THAT J COMPLETED SUCK AT

Let imagine Miguel heat or is just hella intoxicated with a sex drug from layla putting there (putting or idk someone LIKE PETER B ) and left it on his favorite desk( that he like to slam on A LOT JUST FROM THE RETARD THAT HE HAS TO DEAL with work💀 ✊ men got his on TABLET FOR THAT lol) and it crash on the floor and broke and some gas that Miguel was intoxication from of it and went to his own place while reader was petting an demonic cat in his house

Here is a some plot idea for the NFSw part

(Also THIS IDEA WAS INSPIRED BY MANY WEEBTOON STORY AND I WANTED TO mush ALL THESE IDEA INTO ONE SO pls 😭 if I suck AT EXPLAINING THE PART and I wanted to say this but I feel like Miguel be the grump bear person character or big puffy cat person like he wouldnt like anyone touch his horn but when reader ask he let her touch his horn with a pout sound as he lean down 🗣😭✊ also you can make this a fluff/smut any kink will do honestly! THANK YOU bye ❤

Hope you have a great day and time ! (Sorry if this made be a long request but I dont see many people making a demon Miguel like this one and reader as well so yea and I really wanted to people be inspired by this one !!!😇😌🗣

Pairing: Demon!Miguel O’Hara x Angel!fem reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Virgin!Reader, Fluff, Mentions of Cheated on Reader, Slight Corruption Kink, Slight Fingering, Oral Sex, Praise, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Blood

Summary: Even the devil has a soft spot.

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

It had been a gloomy day.

You had never expected to find your sweet, attentive boyfriend sucking faces with someone else. It had ruffled your delicate feathers and for your wings to curve in with despair. Your friends had tried to pull you away from the scene, the dejection clear on your face as you stared longingly at the man you had given your golden heart to. Their reassuring words floated past you, mind preoccupied on why this could have happened to you. Was it something you did? Were you not enough? Were you missing something?

Later into that day, after numbly reassuring your friends you were alright, you had wandered aimlessly across the angelic city. You were so lost in thought that you had not realized you had taken too many turns out of the city, finding yourself in the Void. So unused to the dark, unfamiliar land, you had stumbled your way around, catching your wings on things you couldn’t see clearly until your body was sore and you had wilted to the ground in a hopeless mess. You were unsure of how long you had laid there, a withering mess of innocent pain before he had sniffed you out.

From his account of events, he had just been back from one of his sessions of…repentance as he calls it. Even though his suit and dulled armor was splattered with blood, he knew the lingering scent in the air was fresh, more innocent than the kind he had spilt. He had followed the sweet fragrance, finding your helpless form crowded to the ground. You had looked up at him with such shiny eyes, a puffed pout on your lips. Your appearance alone was angelic, his hand itching to reach out and taint your delicate skin. He swore a glowing aura shielded your body, setting you apart from the gloominess of the Void. If not the scent of your blood, the shininess of your glow would attract dark things like him to you.

You had shrunk back in response to the strong presence he held, not realizing tears had flowed down your face until he commanded you to wipe them away. When he had told you to follow him, you had weakly pushed yourself up, using the sound of shifting armor as your guide through the dark. He had taken you back to the modest cabin, cold and nearly as empty as the world outside. He had left you by yourself, your wings fluttering nervously as you tried to see more than blurred darkness. When he had lit a dim light, you had instantly flocked towards it while he kept his distance. You had crowded around the greenish-yellow flame like a moth, staring at it as if it was as angelic as you were.

His rough hand was firm around your shoulder blade, pushing you into a seat near the flame. He stood behind you, as if using you to shield him from the light as he bandaged the fracture in your wing quietly. You had sat still, watching the flame dance on the candle wick. The light illuminated your face in a ghastly light, creating intense shadows against the features of your face. When he had pulled away, you turned to look for him, only to be met with pure black. You reached your hand out tentatively, pulling it back when you had met the cold metal of his armor. HIs own hand reached out to you, centimeters away from your face so you could see it.

Your delicate fingers brushed over the calluses on his hand and in a gravelly voice he had asked you, how pretty, innocent you, found yourself an injured bird in such a dark place. With his adapted eyes, he had seen the darkening of your cheeks and the wounded look in your eyes. You had looked away, a half-hearted excuse of getting lost leaving your plush lips before asking him for his name.

He answers begrudgingly, a low grumble that you have to strain your ears to catch. You find it only fair to tell him yours in return, and Miguel lets the word circulate into his head until it's fully memorized. The name suits a gentle creature like you he thinks, a soft symphony of syllables that are yours to own. It sounds like church bells and birds chirping, something that's shunned in the Void. The natural greed that fuels his body wants to lock you up and keep you for himself.

Instead, he shoves the lantern into your hands, a silent demand to follow him as he walks towards the cabin’s entrance again. You two walk through the barren land, your small form following him as you stare at the more clearly defined shapes of the land. When you begin to slow or stray too far, he lets out a slow rumbling noise from his chest that draws you back to him. He doesn’t seem particularly annoyed when he does it, but he isn’t exactly happy about it either.

You follow him until he stops, your distracted mind almost causing you to crash into him. You peak out from behind him quizzically, holding your lantern up only to find it useless. Even though Migurl stopped a good distance away, the light of the holy city is visible. A delighted smile makes its way onto your face as you look up at him, a silence thanks for his kindness. He doesn't look visibly affected, but his unmoving heart stutters in a single kick.

You wordlessly walk out from behind him, taking a few steps forward before stopping and running back. His eyebrow raises as you stop right in front of him,a shy smile on your face as you take his hand and wrap it around the lantern’s handle with a soft thank you. You had given his hand a lingering squeeze before turning away from him and walked towards home. You had turned once after crossing out of the Void, eyes searching for a figure and a green glow, but both seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

Two weeks later, you were surprised to see that green glow in the distance. Based on the height of it, you knew it had to be Miguel. You took a hesitant step into the Void, then another and another until you were getting closer and closer to the light. You had stopped five feet away, close enough for the light to be an arm away, but far enough that you couldn’t see the face you’ve yet to see. It was silent for a long moment before that familiar rumble vibrated in the air. The softest of smiles came over your face as you walked closer, taking the lantern from him when he offered it to you. You lifted your arm up, letting the light travel up his form until you were looking into deep red eyes.

A stifled gasp had left you, but it held more fascination than fear. Your eyes had drunk in his features, eyes mostly trained between his glowing orbs and the twisted points that spiraled from his soft hair. He had studied you too, eyes flashing at the delicate bow of your lips and the twinkling shine in your eyes. When you lowered the light, you kept your eyes trained to the place of his own eyes as you whispered a hello. He grunted back in response and turned to make way back to the cabin. You never hesitated to follow him back.

It was in that very cabin that you spent most of your time together. Where the two of you bonded. You sat and talked, Miguel listening as he cleaned his armor or prepared you desserts made from sweet berries and cream that he bought from travelers in anticipation for your frequent visits. The first few visits acted as check ups, Miguel making sure your wing mended and had full capability. Those visits were quick and silent, but they made you anxious for the next one.

Sometimes, after being too cramped in his cabin, you would ask Miguel to show you around the Void. He always grumbled about it, muttering how the Void was, well, void of anything besides plain terrain and the occasional hut or trading stand. But he had found that there was little he could deny you, something in his body against the idea of rejecting something so bright and lively. He had discovered this trait during an earlier visit where you had asked him in the sweetest tone he had ever heard if you could touch his horns. The disapproval was on the tip of his forked tongue, but seeing the way you had blinked so hopefully up at him only resulted in the bowing of his head as your gentle hands traced the grooves of the foreign keratin.

On special days, the days where MIguel had no repentance to take care of, he would let you decorate his horns and hair with beads and accessories you had brought over and never took home. He would hold the lantern up for you so you could focus on your work, and he told you in a gruff voice about the more tamer quests he had been on. But those stories were rare and far between, Miguel finding someone as pure as yourself in no need to know about blood and death as he’s known them. But, they were fun to hear even with their heavy censorship and you absorbed every word like gospel. Honestly, you spend more time focusing on the sound of his voice rather than his words. You loved the deep calmness to his speech, wishing you had a way to record it so you could play it over and over in the hours you spent away from him.

On the really bad days, the days where Miguel had come to fetch you at the border of the Void and the holy city in more blood than usual, he would take you back to the cabin in silence and wash up before pulling you to his sofa and cradling your innocent form to his chest. The both of you would be bathed in darkness, the lantern a far away glow on the dining table as he tried to absorb your good. He would hold your head gently, breathing in your sweet scent as he played with the ends of your hair or flattened the feathers of your wings. It helped calm him down, feeling the slight pleased purr vibrate against his chest as you beamed under his attentive care. He would rumble his chest slowly in response, showing his own content. Those days you knew you had to distract his mind, letting his mind fill with nothing but the events of your day or any days you were apart. When you ran out of events, you started telling him your own thoughts. Recalling a question you have about the universe, a flower you saw on your way to the Void’s edge, how you think maybe the next time you visit you’ll bring Miguel a nice piece of decoration to hang up so his cabin doesn’t look so sad.

But no matter the type of day, no matter how many times you had visited him, he always walked you back to the edge of the Void at the same exact time. It was like clock work. It didn’t matter if you didn’t finish your story, it didn’t matter if you weren’t done removing the decorations from his hair, it didn’t matter if he hadn’t fully calmed down yet. When a small chime ran through his house, he would drop whatever he was doing, standing to give you your lantern before walking you out of his cabin. You had asked him about it a singular time, but he had ignored it. You waited, debated if you should ask again in case he didn’t hear you, but then that time happened and you dropped it. You had stayed curious about it, but you had come to terms with the fact that you’d possibly never know.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‿︵

You don’t know what compelled you to come so late. It was far past the time you would usually come, proven by the fact no lantern glow greeted you at the edge of the Void. But something in you urged you to go, your feet basically dragging you through the darkness. Luckily, the frequency of your visits made you familiar with the path to Miguel’s cabin, hand stretched out until it hit the flat wood of a door. It only took you a few pats to find the doorknob, turning it and sliding it open.

Instantly, a dark musk filled your senses. It makes your head dizzy and you grip tighter onto the knob to steady yourself. When you think you're stable enough to walk, you take a step forward only to almost trip on an overturned chair. A spike of alarm rings in your head and you can’t help the urgency powering your voice as you call Miguel’s name. In the darkness, there is a faint noise of shuffling before you yelp out in surprise. Large hands grab you and flip you on the couch, your hands shoved above your heads as the sound of deep breathing echoes in your ear. Your body instantly melts into the fabric at the sound of Miguel’s voice asking you what you’re doing here.

You try to shift your hands, but Miguel tightens his hold on them. You huff out a pout but stop struggling as you ask him if he’s okay. He doesn’t reply, burying his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling deep. His breath tickles around your neck and you can’t help the soft squirms your body makes.

“Smells s’good,” Miguel mumbles against your skin, his hips pinning yours down so you can’t try to escape. You try to stifle the gasp that builds in your throat at something hard pressing into you. When Miguel’s wet tongue glides up the length of your neck, a soft noise leaves you parted lips. Your hips buck up to push him off, but he only grounds and grounds his hips into you.

Another sound leaves you, slightly louder than before as you feel something rush into your panties. The feeling of the wetness is uncomfortable and you try to shift to relieve it. Miguel’s hands find your waist and grip hard, holding you still as you pull away from your neck. His eyes are glowing so brightly that you can see the red tint in the darkness. “It’s witching hour, y'know.

Can’t be here, ángel.”

Despite the gruffness of his appearance, the words are sweet and full of concern. If you could, you would have reached your hand up to cup his face. He looks and sounds pained. You don’t know why, but you want to help. “Are you okay, Miggy? You don’t sound so good, is there anything I can help you with?”

The honey dripping from your voice makes him grind his hips against you again. You just sound so sweet. His perfect little angel was so worried about him. Wanted to be helpful to him. So sweet and pure and innocent. So goddamn tempting. And, like he said before, he can never deny you. He can’t deny you. Who denies help from an angel anyways? Definitely not him. Definitely not when you can help.

His hand reaches down and cups under your pretty white tunic, a gasp leaving you when he cups your clothed sex and the heel of his palm presses the wetness against your skin. A deep moan leaves Miguel at the dampness, his hand rubbing it eagerly. “Yeah, you can.”

Before you can ask him what it is he needs help with, you feel too long fingers slip under your panties. Your body instantly tenses as Miguel teases them along your entrance, more slick rushing from you to coat his fingers. He tries to push them in, absolute surprise coursing through him when your walls don’t instantly give to take them at the same time. He tries to ease the tips of them, but still gets nothing. It frustrates him. You’re so wet, he can see you glistening before him. Fuck, you hips are even pressing back into his hand. So why can’t you take his fingers?

Then, it hits him. His sweet little angel is a virgin.

He grows impossibly harder at the thought. You really are pure. His tiny little angel, untouched and pure. All for his taking. His eyes trail up your body, looking into your confused face. Poor thing doesn’t even understand what’s happening. But, it’s okay. Miguel, he isn’t mean. He may be a demon but he isn’t mean. He’ll take care of you.

“Need you to spread your legs f’me, doll. Spread your legs and relax.”

You obey so beautifully. You don’t question or hesitate. You only do, only please. Your legs spread for him and he watches the way your tunic bunches around your waist. The sight of your drenched cunt is downright heavenly and he can’t help but lick his lips. His hands glide up your legs until he’s helping you keep your legs open. Gently, he bends down and places them over his shoulder until he’s face to face with your practically see-through panties. He licks a long strip up them, tongue swirling around your poked bud. Your lips instantly buck up in response and your hands find his horns for support.

He chuckles at you, studying you as he pushes your panties to the side again. He licks another strip up you, your slick collecting on his taste buds. You taste as sweet as you smell and it’s driving him wild. The grip on you tightens as he prods at your entrance. His tongue is wet and warm and causes you to feel things you didn’t even know were possible. Your hips lift in response, and you cry out when Miguel slips his tongue into you.

The buckling of your hips is instinctive as his tongue dives in and out of you, occasionally playing with your clit. Your eyes are threatening to roll back as your hands tighten around Miguel’s horns to aid your movements. “M-miguel…what are you..?”

Miguel’s own eyes roll back at your clueless question. You don’t even understand what’s going on, but here you are desperately trying to ride his face like a fucking succubus because you feel that good. A deep groan vibrates against you as he eats you out more desperately, drinking up everything you’re spilling out. In response, you keep letting out the prettiest of noises. If this is what it's like to go to church, Miguel just might consider being stricken down for the chance to hear your moans.

Your legs begin to shake, trying to fight Miguel’s strong hold. Your body quivers and twists, head thrown back as you try to stop whatever it is building inside of you. “Miguel…stop, wait!”

Your begs and pleads are absolute music to him, He can feel the clenching of your walls, and he tries to ease a finger into you to hold them apart. His fingers slip in easier than before, but it still has resistance. But the moment he’s knuckle deep and curls, you’re crying out as you finish. Miguel’s eyes snap up to you, watching drunkenly as you twitch. He slurps everything up, moaning into you as he sucks your lips. He pulls away with a pop, placing a gentle kiss onto your sensitive clit as you try to breathe. Your chest rises and falls, sweat making your tunics stick to your body and become transparent in some places. You’re nipples peek through the fabric, and Miguel sucks them until they’re clearly seen under the garment.

He finally reaches up to your face, kissing your cheek to call you back to him. Your eyes are hazy as you turn to look at him, a small film of satisfaction coating them. The sight makes Miguel smile, nuzzling his nose against your skin to breathe in the lingering scent of sex and sweat on you. You smell absolutely divine and he can’t help but palace a slow kiss to your lips. Your own lips are clumsy, not really knowing what you’re doing. You just follow Miguel’s example and whatever your brain is telling you is right. But Miguel seems to be enjoying it, pressing his lips harder against you and humming.

You’re the first to pull away, a gasp ripping from you as you feel his finger slide back into you. He wiggles it around, stretching your walls out in preparation for something bigger. You whine against his lips. Hips shifting when he pulls it out of you. But soon you feel the warmth of something larger poking at your opening. Your eyes meet Miguel’s glowing ones, a silent question in your eyes.

Miguel presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye as he begins to push in. His hand tilts your head to the side, his face looking down at you as your own twists in discomfort. “This is gonna hurt for a second, sweet angel.”

Before you can ask what he means, his hips snap forward. A scream begins to leave your throat, but it dies once Miguel surges towards your neck and bites down. The pinch of something painful hits you before it all dies down into a euphoric numbness. A soft moan leaves you as Miguel slowly thrusts in and out. He pulls away from your neck, giving it a quick lick and kiss before taking your arms to wrap them around his neck loosely. He kisses your cheek again, moaning at the coppery smell of blood that begins to feel the air as he stretches your hymen.

“That’s it. So fucking good for me, good girl.”

Even in your dazed state, your body glows under his praise. A slow hum leaves you, and you arch your back into him. Miguel’s hand slips to your lower back, pressing your skin into his body and he begins to speed up his thrusts. Each snap of his hips brings shockwaves of pleasure through you, and it isn’t long before you feel the familiar build up in your body again. Miguel groans as your walls tighten around his cock, teeth grinding together as he pushes through your tight walls. With another sharp thrust, you're moaning out again as you release.

Miguel continues to work you through it, working at your clit to make it last longer. You whimper in appreciation, body pressing up into his fingers for more. He chuckles at the involuntary movement, working you even after your body jolts from oversensitivity. His fingers and his thrusts don’t stop until he feels his own pleasure beginning to form its peak. WIth a few sharp thrusts and you moaning his name, he spills his hot seed into you. The feel of it filling you makes you come again, hips lifting and pressing into his pelvis to keep it all into you.

Miguel rubs soft circles into the skin of your hips to help you calm down, pressing kisses to your shoulders and muttering praise. He pulls out slowly, his cock an ombre of pink to creamy white cum as the same mix drips from you. His fingers fuck it back into you absentmindedly, only stopping when you cry out softly. He gives you time to rest, leaving to get a soft cloth to wipe you down.

Midway through his cleaning, you hand lands to his arm. He looks up at you questionably, watching the dazed look beginning to leave your eyes. But he can’t help the wide smile that forms on his face as you ask: “Again?”

Teehee

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #cherry's requests🍒#spiderman 2099 x you #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #atsv smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x reader

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calif0rnia-lovers · 1 year

Text

growing pains.

rating: 💙 | pairing: rio x his wife | words: 904

an: can't remember who requested this one, but I adore you. here’s another story I never got around to posting

request: rio and his wife again? but this time she's pregnant and can't get comfortable so rio tries to take her mind off it

Rio's eyes open.

He can breathe. Actually, breathe. That’s the problem.

Rio can never breathe—at least not properly—when he’s in bed with you. He’s become accustomed to waking up with you curled against him, most of your weight pressing him into the mattress. As much as he teases you about your inability to sleep without laying on him, Rio secretly loves it.

The absence of your touch is enough for Rio to fight off the tug of sleep already threatening to pull him back under.

His eyes find the clock on the bedside table.

2:15 A.M.

Lifting his head from the pillow, Rio finds you pacing the length of your dark bedroom.

One hand on your forehead, the other on your hip. Eyes closed, you quietly shuffle past the foot of the bed.

“Keep it up, you’ll burn a hole in the floor,” Rio’s chuckle fills the dark room, the sound of his voice causing you to jump.

You both wince as he reaches over, flicking on the bedside lamp.

“Sorry,” you groan. “I didn’t mean to wake you—”

Rio silently dismisses the apology, pushing the comforter back. “You good?”

Instinctively, you nod.

The action would convince many. Throughout your pregnancy, Rio has learned you’re an expert at masking your discomfort. When your friends and family ask how you’re doing, you instantly reply “I’m fine.”

The problem is, you try to do the same with your husband. Five years of marriage and you’ve yet to realize your husband can see right through you. This is why he can’t help but softly smile as your eyes meet his.

“If that’s the case,” Rio sighs. He comes to a stop before you, hands settling on your waist. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“Believe me, I tried. But, it seems I’m carrying the next Ronaldo,” you giggle, the exhaustion bringing your forehead to rest against your husband’s chest. “He’s been restless all night.”

“Sorry, mama.”

Soft kisses press against your forehead, over the bridge of your nose, and down to your lips.

Your hands find his chest, gently applying pressure as Rio leaves a final kiss against your lips.

“I’m fine,” you smile softly. “I’m sure he’ll settle down in a bit. Go back to bed.”

Being up this early in the morning was not ideal. Despite your protest, Rio has picked up much of your responsibilities as your third trimester has begun to wind down. Taking Marcus to school is one. You know he only has a few hours of sleep left before he has to take on the task.

Rio eyes drift to the bedroom door. The smile slowly spreading across his face arches your brow.

——————

“You know…I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but yellow looks good on you.”

Your giggle prompts your husband to glance over his shoulder.

Seated at the island of your kitchen, elbows resting against the surface, you watch Rio carefully balance the cooking pan in his left hand. He pushes the oven door shut with his right, pausing to cut it off.

Rio notes the twinkle of your eyes as you give him a once-over.

A large bee adorns his chest, completing the phrase bee happy. The apron he wears matches the yellow, bee-covered, oven mitts protecting his hands from the hot baking pan.

“Every color looks good on me,” Rio chuckles.

“Very true,” you agree, eyes following him as he makes his way around the island. “But, I’m a big fan of this look.”

Rio’s lips meet yours in a brief kiss, his smile growing as you pull away.

The half-eaten cookie you hold soon regains your attention as he slides onto the stool alongside yours.

You’ve lost count of the number of cookies you’ve eaten over the last twenty minutes.

Soft, warm, and chewy, the cookies were loaded with three of your favorite things. Chocolate chips, pecans, and caramel.

Rio had watched you teach Marcus how to make the cookies nearly a dozen times. Usually, while you and his son were busy mixing the dough, Rio was busy stealing chocolate chips and pecans to snack on.

Tonight, it seems the two of you have switched roles. Rio had forced you to remain seated while he focused on preparing the cookies.

“There’s nothing the perfect cookie can’t fix,” you’d once told Marcus after he returned home from a rough day at school.

The family recipe taught to you by your grandmother has become the savior of many stressful situations. And a gift at many celebrations.

They proved to be the perfect distraction from your previous dilemma.

Ignoring the swat of your hand, Rio manages to steal a bite of your cookie, his eyes drifting to the stairs visible from where you sit.

“You better hurry up and eat. Gotta hide the evidence,” he chuckles as you pout.

“There’s plenty of cookies,” you remind him, stealing the cookie out of his hand. “Eat your own.”

Rio shakes his head, his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “I like yours better.”

“I’m eating for two,” you remind him, the smile on your face growing as his eyes roll.

“Funny how that comes out at the most convenient times.”

Primarily when you steal food from his plate. Your eyes drop to the cookie you’d recently stolen from your husband.

“Remember that next time you think about getting me pregnant.”

“Speaking of kids…I’m not taking the blame when Marcus wakes up to find you didn’t share any with him.”

#let me know what you think?#rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio imagine #manny montana imagine

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pep-rambles · 2 months

Text

Lucifer is a Swiftie headcanons because I kin this man so much I am projecting my other hyperfixations on him

But also I mean c'mon,

Look at him

yes there is RadioApple in this

-It probably started from Charlie. When she was in high school (post emo phase obviously) she may have enjoyed Taylor Swift (maybe Fearless got her through her senior year because I can't stop projecting) Lucifer started listening to try and have something to bond with his daughter about. But about the time Charlie kind of lost interest is about the time Lucifer doubled down on his obsession.

-He has been to basically almost every Eras concert, usually in really good seats because many a swiftie has offered to sell their soul for tickets. He said keep your soul just let him tag along.

-He is definitely an Evermore stan mostly because of relating too hard to the divorce narrative of it.

-Speaking of, Charlie has threatened to lock him out of his Spotify after catching him on the floor crying to “Champaign Problems” on repeat too many times. She never would but most definitely tried to ban him from listening to it for a month.

-She then caught him crying to “You’re Loosing Me”

-Angel Dust is most definitely Beyhive (killer bee probably) and though initially joking that they are rivals the two men bond over their love for the two queens of pop, recommending songs and videos to each other.

-Angel is a Reputation Stan though

-After one of Lucifer’s many tiffs with Alastor, Charlie is expressing her frustration asking her dad why can’t they just get along and Lucifer explains that he doesn’t trust Alastor because “I think his ever-present grin is a little troubling” and is a little upset when she doesn’t get it

-One day, Luci is sitting in the Lobby doing his work while listening to Taylor on shuffle. He’s casually minding his own business jamming out to one of her poppier love songs and Alastor wanders in commenting on the “Obnoxious trite little diddy” Lucifer doesn't even hesitate to take the bait

L: HOW DARE YOU! SHE IS A TALENTED GODDESS!! A DOWNRIGHT MUSICAL CHAMELEON! You are such a snob Alastor! Good music didn't stop getting made after your tiny little lifetime.

A: I never said it did but it's certainly not this frivolous noise!

L: Oh, you uninformed uncultured cur! She is a fucking poet!

He then proceeds to play examples for Alastor of her most creative and heart wrenching lyrics (he absolutely makes Al sit through all 10 minutes and 13 seconds of ATW)

After all that though Lucifer will never get Alastor to admit that he finds T.S. musically talented (or that Lucifer did in fact catch Al tapping his foot a couple times)

-Alastor does come to Lucifer, after a bit of research, admitting that though he does not find her music enjoyable, he respects her business cunning. Luci figures that's good enough. For now.

-because I bet my non-existent Eras tour tickets that Lilith was a hater. I’ll leave it at that.

-OP works at Barnes & Noble and let me tell you there are about 80 different Taylor Swift magazines that even my swiftie ass thinks is excessive but Lucifer has every single one

-including the Taylor Swift paper dolls magazine (yes this is a real thing). He probably gets a few because he convinces Charlie to use them as a team building activity.

-He has at least 3 copies of each of the covers for the 2023 TIME Person of the Year magazine.

-Also all cardigans. On a casual day he definitely lounges in them and has a set rotation of when to wear each one (and I am totally not gonna draw that nope)

-Well, it seems Lucifer is no longer crying to the depressing break-up songs on repeat but now he seems to be angrily listening to “Gorgeous” on repeat. Charlie asks him about it and he goes full denial mode “No no Charlie I'm not thinking of anyone specific, I've just been really into this song lately.” Everyone else in the hotel, besides Alastor, has already figured out what's going on

Alastor: If I have to hear that obnoxious noise one more time I will reduce that tiny maniac’s room to rubble as well as the abode of whatever sad sack is making him play it.

Angel: *knowing smirk* I'm gonna hold ya to that one, Antlers.

-Al may very well hear it one more time if Lucifer uses it as his confession song (I don't fully commit to this headcanon, I just think it's funny)

-Anyway boy’s probably in his Reputation stan Era b/c LWYMMD is like his long overdue big F-YOU to Heaven song

btw this is NOT gonna end at these headcanons I am running with this idea like scissors.

@nunalastor

@julsiemagne

@nose-nippin-fun (I know you're not a swiftie but we talked about this so idk if you care I can un-tag you if you want)

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diejager · 2 months

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hi so big fan :D, im terribly obsessed with literally all of your cod fics but oh my god stepdad könig + horangi drives me nuts-

just wanted to throw an idea in your brain because i cant stop thinking about it but imagine if reader used to go braless around the house (because its just her n mom) but after the introduction of 2 new unfamiliar guys in the house she puts on a bra when she leaves her room (but she also forgets sometimes and they call her a tease for it)

With time however, with all the fucking and the constant attention horangi and könig have been giving her nipples, theyre so fucking sensitive she like shudders when they scrape on surfaces on accident (ex. the edge of a table, fabric of her clothes) so she starts wearing a bra all the time to stop that from happening but könig and horangi don't like that so they take ALL her bras-

oh also another idea that popped up but what if reader who usually dresses rather tomboyish/masc also occasionally enjoys wearing very fem/provocative outfits. BUT könig and horangi have only ever seen reader wear masc outfits since theyve known each other. reader still wears her fem outfits but now she wears it under a bulky jacket and baggy jeans and changes out of it in uni/public toilet.

so like one day horangi is out and has to do a double take on reader out in public because they dont recognize them in their outfit (ex. a form-fitting sundress or a mini skirt with sheer tights and cute leg warmers) and he remembers reader leaving the house in something else. fuck i just know könig and horangi are going to get SOOOO many ideas on how to punish reader for that.

any ways thats it from me love ya <3

Hii, I looked at your illustrations and I LOVE them, they’re all so clean and nice.

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, smut, size kink, possessive behaviour, delusional, tell me if I missed any.

König used to enjoy stripping you, the act of ripping your bra off and watch your breasts sway from his rough treatment. There was something empowering to it, a show of dominance and possession over you when he could strip you naked under him or watch Horangi straddle you and pull your shirt and bra off, sliding your panties down your thighs. He found pleasure in doing so when you walked around in baggy clothes, hiding your shape and curves from his hungry eyes, it was like unwrapping a long-awaited present that he’d been teased with for so, so long.

If he was especially lucky, he’d find you without a bra, your perky nipples pressing against his chest or peaking under your shirt, two small and hard nubs that tempted him with the prospect of something sweet to bite and suck. He liked admiring them, all swollen and slick with his or Horangi’s saliva, spitting or letting drool fall on your tits while they fucked you, marking your sensitive skin with the indentation of their teeth and dark splotches all across your chest. You always whined about it hurting, pushing them away with frail arms, fighting with weak hits and slow kicks. What you thought would be a deterrent, was fuel to their growing hunger, they were men who liked the fight, the struggle, a prey that wouldn’t fall too easily.

But now, he was growing annoyed that you always wore a bra, like an incessant pest that slowed him down from getting to his prize, even Horangi had complained about it and how intricate your choice of bra straps you bought, all the complicated knots and crosses that made their job much harder than it should when they were pleasuring you. How could you make it so difficult for them? They always made you come, their thick girth splitting you in half and filling you in hot and bitter cum. They tried talking you out of wearing bras, but in your rebellious phase, you glared and ignored their words. There wasn’t much they could do to convince you to stop wearing them, there wasn’t truly anything they could hold against you. So they took them away, making you ask for them if you wanted to wear one and it had to be reasonable.

It seemed that you didn’t like their decision, coming to them for a bra every two day to go out, it left them watching you walk out the door in nothing but jeans, a shirt under your jacket, headphones holding your cap down and a backpack slung over your shoulder, hanging low on your back. It irked him that you always hid your beautiful body, something you should be proud of showing off, but perhaps it was to keep your body for themselves, to dance and writhe in your nude for them only, a treasure that only König and Horangi were privy to. He figured it was something he should be proud of.

Then Horangi told him how he found you in a short skirt and a shirt that rode up your abdomen and showed your pretty bra if you raised your arms, the soft jacket you left home slung around your shoulders, dipping low enough to show your back, but your jeans, shirt and cap were gone, stuffed in the now-filled bag. König couldn’t help but mimic the deep sneer on Horangi’s face, teeth tearing into his lip at your audacity of wearing such promiscuous attire for the world to see and hiding yourself from them. It made them wrathful, a deep-seated anger and envy that boiled until you got home, changed into the same baggy clothes you left with. This warranted a punishment, to teach you a lesson about lying to them and holding out on them.

“Come here, du scheiß Gör,” König growled, glaring at your shuddering figure. [you fucking brat.]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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korebringerofded · 5 months

Text

You Can Hear it in the Silence- Part 1

Roronora Zoro X F!Reader

Summary- A handful of moments, Zoro realizes he has feelings for you, you realize you have feelings for him, tension tensionnnn Warnings- Future smut, adult content, sexual tension? Romantic feelings? Crack fic energy, lots of fluff and pining. Usopp being personally victimized by Zoro, emotionally unaware and distant Zoro, Reader wears a dress? Strawhat!Reader

A/N- I ask that you read my rules before going any further on my page. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are always open and you can find my entire masterlist here. Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

A/N- Hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be an imagine buttttt now its a multi-part fic, sorry for no posts. Its mental illness aint it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here

Roronora Zoro was not the kind of person who would often find himself discomposed, he was undeniably brave and headstrong, sometimes to a fault.

He was practically a one-man army, him being a ruthless pirate hunter turned pirate meant he had seen countless battles, faced many challenges.

So far, only two things could really cause that stoic image to falter, losing a fight, and you.

From the very first day that Monkey D. Luffy dragged you aboard the Going Merry, Zoro had taken notice of you. His sharp eyes followed you closely, taking in the curve of your pretty lips and the flutter of your lashes. It started as a simple interest, a curiosity for the newest crewmate, that was all.

At least, that is what the renowned swordsman told himself.

For the first few months of you being aboard, Zoro had believed he had been successful at ignoring the blossom of warmth he had started to feel towards his new crewmate. He had convinced himself it was truly nothing more than a friendly interest.

That was all, just a friendly and completely platonic interest in you.

You, who had a habit of wearing short dresses when it was a particularly hot day, skirts edge swaying at your thighs as you moved around the ship.

You, whose warmth and kindness made Zoro’s skin crawl and his chest ache in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar way.

You, whose sweet and musical laugh would play on repeat in Zoro’s mind like a siren’s song, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

You, who would spend entirely too much time with that damn cook.

Not that Zoro cared, of course he didn’t care.

He cared, he cared a lot.

It was dinnertime, the sun setting over the shore while everyone was settling into their normal routines as the salty breeze blew along the deck. The entire crew sat around the dining table eating and conversing as they did nearly every evening. Nami, Sanji and Chopper sat next to you on one side of the table while Luffy, Usopp and Zoro sat on the other.

Luffy was talking to Usopp who sat at the other end of the dinning table, his voice loud as he shoved an absorbent amount of food into his face, his face pushed out like a chipmunk with chubby cheeks full of acorns.

“L-Luffy! Be careful, you’re gonna choke!” You stammered, watching with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry so much about him. I’ve seen Luffy eat 12 whole roasted chickens in a row before.” Nami said with a sigh as she patted you on the shoulder.

“What about the bones?” You asked

“Oh yeah, he ate those too. I’m not even sure he noticed he did it.” Nami said.

“I rike food, is that suwch a crime?!” Luffy asked with a huff as his teeth tore into the juicy meat of a chicken leg, the grease coating his face and the food muffling his complaints.

That sent everyone at the table into a fit of laughter, except for Zoro, who was sitting directly across from you at the table and was entirely too distracted staring directly at you to even notice the rest of the crew,

He had an almost unreadable expression on his face, his jaw tight. His body was tense, heart beating rapidly in his chest, like the echoing beat of a drum. Zoro’s eyes never left you, they followed the way your chin lifted into the air and your head tilted back as you laughed with your whole body.

He could see the small tears that formed at the corner of your glossy eyes as you laughed so hard it seemed to hurt, curled lashes fluttering as your hand reached up to brush the tears away.

Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself, Roronora Zoro started to live and breathe for those bite-sized moments of your life. He wanted to see everything, experience all of you in every way possible.

Eventually, it got to the point where every thought that ran through Zoro’s brain would somehow descend to thoughts of you, your smile, your laugh, and those fucking eyes that were starting to ruin him.

As was normal aboard the Going Merry, Zoro was working out on the deck, doing countless amounts of reps with an abnormally huge weight, his rippling muscles twitching and sweat forming on his brow as he enjoyed the breeze and the sunshine soaking into his already tanned skin. He passed the weight between each of his arms after each set of reps, making sure each of his arms was properly matched.

Zoro was training particularly hard today, his bandana tied around his head to catch the sweat from stinging his eyes. He couldn’t help it, he had been distracted for weeks, he had to try and clear his head.

He needed something, anything to take his mind off of his new crewmate, you.

No matter how hard Zoro tried to avoid you, to ignore you, or be cold towards you…you would appear, and melt away that cold exterior like the onset of spring over a fluffy snow-covered field.

Just as always, as soon as Zoro’s clouded mind started to clear, your voice and presence appeared and sent a spark down the swordsman's spine, his muscles twitching as he glanced over his shoulder to see his only real weakness, you.

“I made some lemonade, you want some?” You asked in a honeyed tone.

Zoro’s eyes immediately scanned down to take in your outfit, gritting his teeth to contain the audible groan that threatened to escape his mouth. You were wearing a rather short dress, the brightly colored skirt swaying in the breeze as you held a tray with a glass pitcher full of lemonade and a few glasses on it.

“Damn…why do you have to be so cute?”

“That damn cook didn’t touch it, right? I think he's trying to poison me.” Zoro grumbled, only half-joking.

You giggled softly, looking up at him as you quickly shook your head back and forth. You sat the tray down on a small table off to the side of the deck, bending over just a bit to pour Zoro a full glass of the lemonade.

Zoro couldn’t help it, his eyes wandered down the curve of your back to your round hips, his hand clenching around the dumbbell in his hand as he saw the skirt of your dress ride up the back of your plump thighs as you bent down.

“Nope. I made it myself, it’s definitely poison-free.” You said with a toothy grin, standing back up as you offered him the cup, the ice clinking against the sides of the frosty glass.

“Hm.” Zoro smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

You giggled softly, still holding the glass out for him to take.

Zoro didn’t even realize what he was doing, your presence alone was like a bucket of ice water that short-circuited his brain. All rationality left his mind the moment he laid his eyes on your pretty face.

For a split second, you could have sworn you caught his eyes flickering down to your thighs as the edge of your dress fluttered in the salty ocean breeze.

“That was just my imagination, right?” You thought to yourself, your heart starting to thunder in your chest like an approaching storm.

Zoro didn’t notice the weight starting to slip from his hands and without really thinking about it, he took another step forward. His sharp eyes were staring intensely into yours as his free hand reached to take the glass you had offered him, your fingers brushing against his calloused ones for just a moment before…complete chaos.

SMASHH-CRACK

It was a splintering, echoing sound, the ship trembling back and forth at the sudden impact.

Usopp was pale as he rushed over and stared down at the weight sticking half-out of the deck and tottering back and forth between you and Zoro.

Ussopp stepped around the weight with his arms flying up around him wildly as he tried to get out actual words. He was puffing out air as his face turned red.

“WHAT…THE…HELL?!” Usopp managed to stammer as he looked up at Zoro with a perplexed look on his face.

“Uhm…sorry.” Zoro mumbled in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat with a cough, though his cold, sharp eyes never left yours.

“Is that all you have to say? Now I have to fix this!” Usopp huffed, his face red in frustration as he threw his arms up one final time and he ran off to the storage room to get some tools and supplies.

Usopp ran off, his body slumped over as he mumbled curses and complaints under his breath.

As Usopp left, Zoro’s eyes wandered from the weight sticking out of the splintered wood and then back to your beautiful eyes.

He was sure he would die of embarrassment then and there, your eyes were wide and you were looking up at him with a shocked expression on your face.

He was certain you would tease him, absolutely positive you would…but instead, he saw admiration in those big, beautiful eyes. You were honestly too awestruck to even notice Usopp's ramblings or to care about the damaged deck.

“Do you lift those everyday?” You asked, taking another step closer to him.

“Oh..yeah…” Zoro answered, his mouth suddenly going dry.

“That's…incredible. What do those even weigh?!” You asked, eyes glossy.

“Um…I have no idea. I think…1000 pounds, maybe?” Zoro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping up on his face.

Your eyes widened as you stared up at the swordsman, his chest was wide and littered in twitching muscles and pale scars from his many adventures. He had been training for a while and his tan skin was glossy with beads of sweat that rolled down to his rippling abs. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the beads of sweat until they rolled down to his curly green happy trail.

Yeah, after that you were completely and totally head over heels for Roronoa Zoro, not that you could ever tell him.

Preview to part 2

“I can’t do this.” Zoro shook his head, shooting a glare at Nami.

“Yes, you can.” Usopp said with a chuckle. “She is totally into you!”

“Usopp is right, she is absolutely into you.” Nami nodded, hands on her hips.

“Why is he here, anyways?” Zoro grumbled in a whisper, pointing his thumb in Usopp’s direction with a look of disgust.

“Hey! I’m great at romance!” Usopp scoffed with a look of offense.

“This is going to go so badly.” Zoro said in a low voice, almost at a whisper as he started to rub his face with his hands, back slumped.

“All you have to do is ask her to spend the evening with you.” Nami said, one of her eyes twitching slightly.

“And if she says no?” Zoro retorted.

“She won’t! Now stop being such a coward!” Nami snapped, giving Zoro a slight shove towards the steps leading up to the main deck of the ship.

Zoro glanced over his shoulder to see Nami and Usopp each of them giving him two thumbs up before turning back towards the steps with an audible groan before he started up the stairs.

“Why did I agree to letting these idiots help?”

“I am not doing this. No way.”

Zoro’s thoughts came to a complete standstill as he made his way to the top of the stairs and to the main deck. It was like the unshakeable man had been struck by a great bolt of lighting at the very sight of you. His calloused hand was wrapped so tightly around the banister that the wood trembled under his grip, sure to shatter to splinters if the pressure kept up.

You were splayed out on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun shimmering down in bright rays of light and dancing over the surface of the freshly washed deck and your incredibly tempting skin.

Your hair was fluttering behind you as you lay in the sun and thoughtfully flipped through one of your favorite books, laying on your stomach and kicking your feet absent-mindedly. You had on one of those absolutely maddening dresses, they always had an effect on him but that dress drove Zoro’s mind to recesses of his mind he never thought existed.

He really couldn’t help it as his eyes flickered over your body, slowing as he scanned over the round curve of your ass and the plush skin of your thighs. It all was starting to make his head spin and his dick twitch uncomfortably under his clothes.

Zoro was so caught up in subconsciously memorizing the shape of your body that he didn’t even notice you had looked up at him, the book still laying open in front of you. You both just stared at each other for a moment before you eventually spoke.

“Did you need something?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

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lisannastraussisanangel · 7 months

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I really enjoyed your Lucy and Juvia headcannon, and I was wondering if you had anymore! Although Gray did clear the rain away, I think it was Lucy who was her first friend at Fairytail and I wished they expounded on that more. Just imagine if they had had the same dynamic but whenever anyone tried to be too friendly with Lucy Juvia would call them her "friend rival" or something, even funnier if it is Gray. Or if they ever did a unison raid together again.

For sure! Stop the friend rival thing is so funny omg! I can totally see it. Juvia picking Lucy over Gray and him being so offended

They always have the others back. One of the girls is like "I need you to back me up" and the other is down 100%

Especially against Gray and Natsu. The boys can never win

Juvia is super protective and slightly possessive of Lucy. People from other guilds are scared to approach Lucy if Juvia is nearby

They have that type of friendship where everyone lowkey thinks they are dating (Gray is convinced Juvia is gonna leave him for Lucy)

The girls take jobs together all the time. They work really well together and usually get the jobs done quickly with little going wrong

Juvia is not very social but Lucy drags her out to parties and things. Sometimes she has to fully kidnap Juvia and take her kicking and screaming (Juvia ends up having fun but will fight tooth and nail to not go regardless of how much fun she ends up having)

They are an unbeatable team. The first time they teamed up in the gmg, they destroyed the entire arena. It's gotten to the point where a lot of other guilds strategies rely on separating the girls at all costs

They are platonic soulmates

The girls bonded a lot over their childhood and growing up alone and how weird it feels sometimes to be surrounded by so many people who care about them

Lucy is Juvia's #1 hype man. Catch her wearing an 'I love Juvia' t-shirt screaming "that's my baby" during the gmg/s-class trials

They are so goofy together. Can't take anything seriously. They end up on the floor giggling uncontrollably at least once a day

#girlies have sun and moon energy and I would die for them #anon <33 #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #lucy heartfilia #juvia lockser #gray fullbuster #gruvia #luvia #juvia x lucy #lucy x juvia

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Finally being invited on one of his parents trips is... well, Steve tries to be normal about it, but he's excited. He's only been invited on two. Three if he's counting the one to Chicago for a big family get-together, which he doesn't.

The only problem comes up when they sit him down and ask about all the scars he has. They want the trip to be a fun time, a nice family get-away where they can give their little boy a little peace from the chaos of Hawkins.

When he struggled to think of an excuse, his mother softly asked if he did them himself.

Reluctantly, he ducked his head in feigned shame, nodding.

His mother hurried to her feet, almost sitting on him in her effort to squeeze onto the one-man seat with him, wrapping him up tight in her arms. She whispered promises of love and safety.

His father had a look like he'd swallowed a lemon, but he too promised to provide the support than Steve needs to get through... whatever he's going through.

Steve swears to them that he's dealt with it, he's over it. He's just trying to move on now.

"Fucking hell," Eddie hisses when Steve finishes telling them about it all. "You can't be real. They think you did that shit to yourself?" He gestures to Steves stomach.

"I don't think they know about those. The older ones do look, uh... suspicious."

He rubs the thin ones on his left wrist, where a demogorgons claws had caught him in that last, big fight. Eddies hand is gentle when he pulls said wrist closer, thumb brushing over the scars.

"You do make a good point."

"I'm gonna miss you," Steve mumbles.

"It's just a week."

"Yeah, tell me about."

And he's right- he's barely stepped off the plane, a short 5 hour flight, and he's already homesick. He wishes he could've thought of a way to convince his parents to let him invite a friend.

Once they're settled in, though, it's alright. There's a lot of activities, a lot of places to visit and a lot of things to try.

On their second day, they try to start the routine of spending most of midday at the beach. His parents sunbathe, whilst he swims in the sea. The water is cool, a relief from the heat.

They always make him put jeans on after.

It doesn't matter how many times he points out that it's more than uncomfortable- not only in the heat, but with the lingering water. They insist that he puts jeans on.

They'd gotten him the new jeans special. They're supposed to be thinner, better for heat.

"It just seems unnecessary," Steve had said when they'd first presented them to him. "I have so many shorts!"

"Sweetheart, your scars," his mother had pointed out. "People will look. You don't want to make us look bad, do you?"

For three days, he went along with it. He tried to ignore the discomfort. But the heat was too much. The water making the material rub uncomfortably against his skin.

On the fourth day, as he's drying himself, he hesitates. He stares at the jeans his mother holds out for a moment.

"What if... I don't wear them, right now? It's so hot and my legs are still wet. Just until we get back to the hotel."

"Steve, no, that's not a-"

"Please. Just until we get back to the hotel. Just today."

"You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" His mother sighs, shaking her head when he gives her a sheepish smile. "Fine. Get your things."

He's so happy, comfortable in his swim shorts, that he walks with a bounce in his step. The breeze on his legs is almost soothing.

He's tempted to skip as he starts up the street.

There's a bright little drinks shop up ahead that he spots. The advertisement signs have pictures of ice creams and smoothies, things that look tasty and cold.

He turns to ask his mother if she'd like to stop there for a drink, to cool down after sunbathing. But she's not behind him.

There not far behind him, so he stops. He grins when they look to him, waving... his hand slowly dropping when he realizes that they stopped walking, as soon as he stopped.

But they're looking to the map. Maybe they're lost.

When he starts walking to them, they turn, walking a few steps that match his own. The only thing in that direction is the beach.

They don't want to be seen with me, he realizes.

He turns back around, slowly walking to that little drink shop. Although, he's not sure he needs to buy anything to cool him down. His insides feel numb enough now.

He sits at one of the tables outside, wondering if his parents will even try to sit with him or just... abandon him.

They do sit with him, pretending like nothing happened. It's the same attitude they have when they get in the taxi, after distancing themselves on the walk there too. The promised trip to the mall abandoned without word.

Steve spends the rest of the little vacation in his room. He lies about being tired, not feeling too well, whenever they try to invite him out with them.

They buy him the top he'd been eyeing. They seem to think that the little gift, and bragging about it being expensive, will make him feel better. He's sure that it's not an apology though.

On the plane ride home, it's odd to think about how excited he'd been. How hopeful.

The only comfort is Eddie. He goes straight to him, immediately after dumping his suitcase in his room, not even bothering to unpack.

He's furious when Steve explains what happened.

"I've never liked your parents," he announces. He points to Wayne, who looks just as angry. "Wayne gets it. Assholes, right?"

"Assholes," Wayne grunts, nodding stiffly. "You deserve better than that, son."

"So much better," Eddie agrees, pulling him closer so he can kiss his cheek. He keeps littering his face with kisses, until Steve laughs. "You deserve the world, big boy."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #stevecentric #what if I told you that this is kind of a true story asdfghgfds

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eksvaized · 4 months

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 11, MDNI

Sleep, once a comforting respite, has now become an enemy you avoid at all costs. Each time the weight of your heavy eyelids becomes unbearable, and you finally succumb to slumber, a terrifying, all-consuming darkness engulfs your mind like a voracious black hole. It’s within this abyss, deep and unfathomable, that you’re left alone with your tormenting thoughts. Your brother, his face etched deep into the recesses of your memory, is a constant presence. His eyes, his laugh, his voice - all imprinted on your mind like a haunting melody.

And then there’s your mother. The man’s chilling words echo in the caverns of your head. They are a cruel reminder of the gruesome end he claims she met - a knife plunged into her skull. But the tormenting question that gnaws at your sanity is - what if he lied? What if your mother had survived, only to be condemned to a fate worse than death? The thought of one day stumbling upon her, changed and unrecognisable, transformed into one of the mindless biters, is more terrifying than your darkest of nightmares. The possibility of seeing her among the swarm of the dead is an image so horrific, so unnerving, that it’s something you can’t even begin to comprehend or accept.

Eating has turned into a chore that you’ve begun to neglect often, too. At first, the intense, gnawing pangs of hunger feel as if a multitude of sharp knives are stabbing at your empty stomach. But, as time wears on, your body learns to adapt. The pain has subsided, and you are left with only mild discomfort. With food supplies dwindling at an alarming rate, you convince yourself that you’re doing the right thing by not forcing yourself to eat. The only time you put something in your mouth is when the edges of your vision blur and dizziness washes over you.

Speaking has also become a luxury you deny yourself. Your mind is a battleground, scarred and scorched, where thoughts, emotions, and unspoken words swirl like a violent storm. Every time you muster the courage to part your lips, Simon’s gaze lands on you. His eyes, piercing and intense, render you mute. Unable to withstand the weight of his gaze, the unspoken questions in his eyes, you turn away. Words get swallowed, lost in the dark cavern of your throat. You don’t want to burden him with your despair. All the pain, all your suffering, is something you believe you must bear alone.

You find it impossible to fathom Simon’s unyielding determination to keep alive the man responsible for your mother’s death. The stranger remains bound with thick ropes to a rickety wooden chair, left in the dark basement with his mouth taped shut to prevent any cries for mercy. Each time you gather the courage to broach the topic, each instance when you muster the strength to insinuate that he should slice that jerk’s throat, Simon assures you with a solemn nod that he will, but not yet. Simon tries to explain to you that he can’t be making any harsh decisions. The man might still have vital information, and until you leave, Simon wants to keep him alive.

Simon’s concern for your behaviour is palpable, much like a thick, ominous fog that clings to everything in its path. You can see it the way his eyes follow you around whenever you enter the room, the way he tiptoes around you as if you are made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch. He chooses his words with great caution, contemplating his thoughts before uttering them. He wants to help you, to ease the burden of pain you carry on your shoulders, to provide a distraction that would make you focus on something else. Yet Simon is at a loss for what to do. You seem closed off to his attempts at communication; sometimes—he feels as if he is trying to talk with a brick wall.

There are many times when Simon catches you trying to sneak down into the basement. A knife clutched in your hand. You want to do what you believe is right. However, he is always there to stop you in your tracks, always there to escort you back upstairs to your bedroom before you can even turn the doorknob to open the door.

“I just want to have a conversation with him,” you lie one time when Simon blocks the door. His broad shoulders and towering height serve as an unyielding barrier between you and the man in the basement. He crosses his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt stretches over his muscles like a tight canvas over a robust frame. His gaze, heavy as a falling stone, drops towards your hand. The only sound that dares to disrupt the tense silence that has settled between you two is the rhythmic clicking of his teeth.

“So, what’s the knife for, then?” He probes with a question, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. Simon is far from gullible; he is aware of your intentions. As he peers into your eyes, a sense of realisation washes over him. Simon can’t let you into the basement. The stranger deserves retribution. But you don’t deserve to stain your hands with his blood. Simon questions whether you have the emotional strength to deal with the consequences that will follow your proposed actions. You have killed the dead before. Yet driving a knife into a man’s skull is different - it’s like comparing a gentle stream to a raging river.

In a tense standoff, Simon remains as immovable as a granite statue, refusing to budge an inch. You groan and push the knife into his chest. But when he doesn’t unwind his arms to take it, you let the blade fall to the ground. Rolling your eyes at him, you mutter a string of curse words under your breath. After glaring at him one last time, you walk away.

Simon can’t help but notice that this isn’t the first time you have tried to bypass him. As a result, he begins to keep a much closer eye on you. His worry ballooning to new heights. His fears aren’t born from paranoia; they are driven by the thoughts of you trying to slip away from him when he’s not paying attention. So, from early morning till late night, he trails behind you like an ever-present shadow. Always lurking, always watching. He’s trying to predict your next move, to stay one step ahead. But deep down, you know that all his efforts are in vain.

Simon is undoubtedly smart, quick on his feet, and physically strong. But there’s one thing he didn’t account for - his growing feelings for you. And though it might be buried deep beneath layers of denial and fear, you, too, are falling in love with him. Yet your heart’s focus isn’t on him. Instead, your attention is riveted on your burning desire for revenge. You know that given enough time and a few more lies, you’ll be able to outwit Simon.

One night, enveloped by the weight of your fatigue, you confess to Simon that you’ve hit your breaking point. With a hint of despair creeping into your voice, you admit you can no longer sustain the draining cycle of spending countless sleepless nights curled up on the worn-out couch, anxiously waiting for the moment he succumbs to slumber before you can even think about doing something.

You can see the hesitation flicker in his eyes, the disbelief that you’ve finally spoken up. But you had already anticipated this reaction. Simon takes your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. He pulls you up the stairs and into your bedroom. As you step inside the room, he takes a moment to lean against the doorway. His posture is relaxed yet filled with unspoken tension. His eyes never stray from you.

You kick off your shoes, watching as they tumble under the bed. Then, you pull a sweater over your head. Its fabric grazes against your skin. As you climb onto the bed, slipping under the covers, you turn to Simon.

“Can you stay with me?”

The house is secure. No biters can crawl in. The stranger is still tied up and gagged in the basement. Simon checks on him at least three times a day when he thinks you are not watching, and ensures that the man is still breathing, still bound to a chair. Simon bites the inside of his cheek, tapping his index finger against the blade he holds in his hand. He would love nothing more than to get in bed with you, but someone must stay awake and keep watch. Yet, as he looks into your drowsy eyes, an irresistible force grips him, pulling him towards the bed.

“Fine, I’ll keep you company till you fall asleep,” Simon gives in, letting out a sigh. He convinces himself that if he can just get you to fall asleep, that would be one less thing for him to worry about as he stays up through the night.

Simon doesn’t bother removing his shoes or undressing. But he does place his knife on the nightstand before climbing on top of the covers and squeezing himself into the narrow, empty space on the mattress. The bed is small, barely enough for one, let alone two. So, to make it somewhat more comfortable, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his embrace. He holds you close as you basically lay on top of him.

Thirty minutes pass.

You are nestled against Simon. His muscular arms are still coiled around your small frame. His broad chest, a solid wall of warmth, is pressed against your back. You are curled into a tight ball, refusing to close your eyes. His tiredness is palpable, but Simon tries to fight the drowsiness, knowing he can’t fall asleep. Yet cuddling you, combined with the tantalising temptation of shutting his weary eyes, eventually overpowers his resistance, and he succumbs to the inviting embrace of slumber.

You can sense the soft puff of his warm breath on the nape of your neck, causing a light tickle each time he exhales. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the even tempo of his breathing serve as proof that he is asleep. Out like a light.

The desire to remain in Simon’s arms overwhelms you. You wish time would freeze, so you could stay curled in his embrace a little longer. But you can’t because there are things you need to do. And this is your only opportunity to sneak away from him. Slowly, you unwrap his arms from your waist. His hands slide off your frame and, with a soft thud, fall onto the mattress. After sitting up, you turn to look at him. Simon’s lips are parted, and his hair is dishevelled. You sweep your fingers through his tousled locks. Your fingertips trace his jaw as you dip your head, lean in, and press your lips to his cheek.

As you traverse the ominous corridors of the dark house, your heart begins to pound in rhythm with your mounting dread. The barely audible whisper of your footsteps is the only sound that accompanies you in this chilling silence. As you approach the door leading to the basement, the faint, unsettling noises emanating from its depths seem to grow louder, assaulting your already frayed nerves.

The basement door creaks open, revealing an abyss swallowed by an impenetrable darkness that seems to devour any trace of light. For a singular, heart-stopping moment, the thought of retreating, of slamming the door shut and fleeing from this terror, is tempting. But, with a firm grip on the railing and a deep breath to steel your resolve, you force yourself to take the first step inside.

The air becomes denser and heavier as you near the bottom of the staircase. Every shallow breath you take feels like a struggle. The palpable fear is suffocating. Yet you press on, your steps leading you to an old table shrouded in darkness. You extend your hand, allowing your fingers to trace the rough surface of the table. Your fingertips finally brush against a solitary object - a candle. Retrieving a matchbook from your pocket, you strike a match. The sudden burst of light cuts through the darkness, illuminating your surroundings.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the man. His intense gaze, piercing like a laser, seems to bore holes into your very soul. As he shifts into the chair, causing it to creak and wobble, you notice his futile attempts to spit out the dirty, ragged piece of fabric that has been shoved into his mouth. The sight of the deep cuts crisscrossing his body, his torn shirt revealing the extent of his injuries, and his bloody, battered face forces you to look away. A wave of nausea washes over you. After taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure, you gather the courage to walk closer to him. As your trembling hands reach out, you pull the rag out of his mouth, letting it fall onto his lap.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” The stranger asks, his eyes darting around. He attempts to manoeuvre his bound arms behind his back. The rough texture of the rope is biting into his skin. He knows he has little chance of convincing Simon to let him go. Yet he dares to foolishly hope that he can manipulate you.

“Shut up,” you snap back, your voice icy and devoid of any mercy. Your lips press into a tight, thin line, a clear sign of your annoyance and frustration. You try to clear your head, to focus on the task at hand, but it proves to be a difficult feat. His incessant babbling is like a nagging buzz in your ear, making it challenging for you to concentrate on anything else now.

“Fine, fine. Sorry.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes moving up and down your body. “Why are you here, anyway? I was under the impression the basement is off-limits to you.” A smirk appears on his face.

You’ve had many fights with Simon in the past few weeks. The arguments usually escalate, turning into heated exchanges that end with raised voices and harsh words. So, it’s not a surprise that the stranger is aware of what’s going on upstairs, even if he’s stuck in the basement.

“I won’t be staying long,” you utter, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your grip on the knife you are holding tightens, knuckles turning white. Your body quivers. A physical manifestation of fear and anxiety that threatens to overtake you. Doubts begin to creep into your mind, making you second-guess your decision.

“Have you ever taken a life before? I bet not. You, sweetheart, with your innocent eyes and dazed expression, don’t strike me as someone capable of murder.”

You try your best to ignore him, to block out his chatter, but his words have a way of invading your thoughts, prying open your mind like an unwelcome visitor. Each syllable is like a chisel, slowly chipping away at your resolve. He notices your hesitation, a momentary falter in your hardened gaze, and seizes the opportunity. With a grunt, he tries to sit up straight, straining against the rough ropes. But his body is weak, worn down by the hours of confinement. He slumps back down. Simon tied him up with an unyielding tightness, leaving no room for even the slightest movement.

“Listen, we can help each other,” he pleads, nervousness seeping into his voice. He starts speaking faster. Words tumble out in a hurried mess because he doesn’t know how much time he has until you decide to shut him up. The uncertainty, the fear of the unknown, fuels his desperation. “If you cut these ropes, if you let me go... I promise, I will take you to your brother.”

When he states this, it’s as if a magnet pulls your attention back towards him. Had he chosen to stop talking at that moment, you would have undoubtedly struck a mutually beneficial deal with him. Yet, he doesn’t. Instead, he continues. His words flow like a river, and with each uttered syllable, you take a hesitant step back.

“Free me, let me deal with Ghost, and we can go.”

The mention of Simon is like a punch to your gut. He shouldn’t have brought Simon into the equation. You want to find your brother. But the thought of sacrificing Simon to achieve this end twists your stomach into knots. You aren’t willing to pay such a hefty price for what you want.

Unaware of your actions, you draw nearer. You avert your gaze, unwilling to witness the deed you’re committing. The knife plunges into his chest. The jarring sensation of the blade piercing through his flesh makes you recoil inwardly. Your entire body freezes in place. The blade slips from your trembling hands, thudding heavily as it hits the ground. Your muscles lock in immobility. The pungent scent of fresh blood assaults your nostrils. Staggering away from the stranger, you finally open your eyes, only to witness the man choking on his own blood. The world spins in a disorienting whirl. You teeter precariously on the precipice of unconsciousness.

At a rapid pace, you run out of the dreary basement. The cold and damp air clinging onto your skin. You quickly approach the front door. It screeches as you swing it open with all the force you can muster. As you step on the porch, you feel your knees buckle under the weight of the terror you’ve been carrying. You fall to cold, hard ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain through your body.

You attempt to take a deep, steadying breath. But it feels as if the outside world is devoid of any air as if all life has been sucked out of it. You gasp, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your lungs craving the oxygen they so desperately need. As you lift your hands to your face, the dim moonlight reveals a horrifying sight. They are covered in a thick layer of red – blood. The sight alone is enough to make you feel sick. Your stomach churns violently at the realisation. You open your mouth, your body instinctively trying to expel what isn’t there. But because you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, instead of vomiting, you just retch painfully. The dry heaving wracks your body, each spasm more agonising than the last. The taste of bile fills your mouth. Yet there’s nothing to throw up. The empty pit of your stomach is a constant reminder of the days you’ve spent without food.

In your mind, the vivid reel of the past five minutes keeps playing on repeat. You attempt to wipe it clean, but it clings, haunting you with the gruesome image of plunging the knife into the man’s chest. The scene replays. The metallic tang of fear fills your nostrils, and the sound of your rapid heartbeat echoes in your ears. Regret floods your senses as you realise you should have heeded Simon’s advice. You should have stayed far away from the basement and the stranger and entrusted him to handle it all.

TAG LIST: @randointhecloset, @lurkinwbreexy, @breadpitt69 , @browtfyoudoing , @yelenassafeplace, @itsthealice, @naxxsstuff, @lotionlamp If you want to be added, let me know!

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod #writing #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #fem!reader #ap2 #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse

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