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tetsvya · 5 days

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clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader

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suguruplsr · 5 months

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FILTHY DUMP!

,, mean! satoru x fem! brat reader , heavy degradation + words (whore , slut , bimbo , bitch) + reader calls him a bitch boy, spanking , heavy finger sucking + ear licking , unprotected , dumbification , not proofread + idk what else <3

divider @/yunjiniez

“nuh uh, gimmie y’r hands.” satoru scoffs, pinching one of your ass cheeks and making a pained whimper escape you. you were full of his cock, laid pitifully on your duvet and simply taking whatever he gives you. your fingers clench the fabric underneath you, hesitating to follow his command. you know you’ll be forced to bend to his will once he has his way.

but you ponder for far to long, a sound ripped from you as he takes your hands, holding your wrists behind you with one hand while his other plays with cream coating the are of where you two meet, “tsk, a whore like you doesn’t deserve anything.” satoru mumbles, keeping his gaze on the way your pussy sucks him in with the few short thrusts he gives your needy cunt. you bit your lip from the movement, needing to feel him give you the orgasm you want. but oddly finding his new “personality” hot, wanting nothing more but to push him just a bit further.

“y-yea? but you always spoil me toru. bet yer’ just gonna cum in me like the bitch boy you are.” you sing, relaxing your body, despite the growing ache in your arms, and trying to play into your little act. your confidence is dwindled down to smithereens when a harsh slap is given to your ass, making you scream and turn your head.

“nah, fuckin— wanna act tough, right?” satoru practically growls, anger evident as he lets go of your hands, not giving you a choice but to stuff your head in the sheets as he pushes it down, his chest pressing your body flush to the bed. “say it again. i dare you.” he purrs in your ear, ignoring your tiny mewls from the pure feeling of his tip bumping as far as it can in you. your mind surely doesn’t help you, too focused on his musky smell, a sweet but dull fragrance of his body wash overpowering your senses. god, you can even feel his pebbled nipples brushing against your skin, hot all over from the skin to skin contact.

“bitch boy. t-that’s what you are — ohhhh, toru!” your response is cut off with slender fingers squeezing your cheeks, a breathy sigh from satoru as he gives you a rough roll of his hips before targeting your cervix with a sharp hit. he holds your face so tight you’re forced to swallow down your moans, spit slowly coating his fingers until they’re slipping between your messy lips.

immediately, your tongue swirls over the long digits, choking as they reach the back of your throat, giving you no reprieve. “ah, can’t talk now huh? actin’ like a slut n’ slobbering’ all over my fingers. tsk.” his degrading sends chills down to your pussy, a disobedient hum leaving you and transmitting vibration through his hand as you feel your mouth starting to deny the muscles shoved between your upper lips.

on the other hand, satoru adores the drool he can feel sliding down his wrist, leaning down to the side his arm wasn’t wrapped around, licking your ear as you can do nothing but close your eyes in discomfort. “nasty thing. can feel ya around me y’know. getting off to this like some dumb bimbo.” satoru chuckles, his tongue flicking around the cavern of your ear as he scissors his fingers in your mouth, playing with it as if it was the delicate area between your thighs. you try to shake your head, desperately wanting to claim how utterly disgusting the stronger man was, but all you get is a thumb on your chin holding you in place. a look of disappointment crossing his face. “stay still. gonna fuck the shit out of ya. but y’r not cumming baby~ just a good lesson f’ya!” he giggles, pulling his dripping fingers out of your mouth and pulling away. his dick twitches inside you as he gets a good glimpse of your flushed and lewd state, before his hand wraps around the back of your neck while he pulls away.

“wait! sorry, i’m sorry, m’sorry..” you spew out apologies, to the point where your eyes begin to water, puffy lips quivering as you try to to move your head.

“too late for that. you wanted to act out, gonna make you my bitch. oh don’t run away now, haven’t even got to the good part..” satoru whines, pushing your head into the mattress without a care, his free hand rubbing the arch of your back as he begins to fuck you like he hates you. your muffled cries are like sweet melodies to satoru, whimpers that could have him cum without touching. sounds that his brain keeps stuck in his head because they’re his favorite song.

his thrusts pick up the pace, fast and harsh as your ringing ears pick up the sonds of his imbalanced breathing, and the slaps of his hefty balls hitting against your ass with a dangerous force that could leave marks. so enraptured with the simple feeling of pleasure, neither of you notice the way you did end up creaming around his cock. again, and again, and again. your minds falling weak to how good you both feel. all until you’re getting a filthy and revolting load of cum shoved into your undeserving cut, unapologetic spanks to your ass, and words that make you feel like a dirty dump for your one and only <3

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evie-sturns · 4 months

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𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 - 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: matt is having an anxiety attack, but chris and nick can't seem to calm him down, so they invite you over.

contains: mouth watering fluff, mentions of a anxiety attack, crying, swearing.

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i'm laying in bed, aimlessly scrolling on my phone as i feel my eyelids grow heavy, i put my phone down next to me as i pull up the blankets, closing my eyes. suddenly my phone lights up, buzzing nonstop.

i groan, picking it up,

its chris?

before i can open my messages chris calls me, i quickly accept it, putting it on speaker. "chris, its late are you okay?" i say into the phone, but i'm cut off by his franic voice

"you have to come over now, matt's having a panic attack, me and nick don't know what to do, you're the only one who can calm him down."

without another word i'm out of bed, grabbing matt’s pug stuffed animal which i recently brought him, pulling on a hoodie over my pyjama set and spraying myself with matts favourite perfume as i grab my keys.

"ill be over in 5 minutes, ill be as fast as i can." i say, worry present in my voice as i hang up.

i rush out my bedroom door, pulling on my uggs as i unlock my front door.

i sprint towards my car, climbing in and instantly pulling out of the driveway. i try to call matt as i drive, but he doesn't awnser. my heart thumps as i turn into the sturniolos street. i park messily before leaping out, running up to the front door.

nick lets me in, he looks distraught, i give him a quick hug before walking down the hallway, approaching matt's room.

his door is locked.

i knock one more time, but again i'm met with no response.

"matt? please let me in sweetheart." i say, keeping my voice calm and low. i hear shuffling in matts room before the door unlocks, i push it open slowly.

im met with matt, his bottom lip quivering, his shoulder slouched and his eyes watering.

my eyebrows raise in a sorry, "oh matt.." i say slowly before walking in, shutting the door behind me as i pull him into a hug, he doesn't really hug back, his arms just hang at his side.

matt and i have been dating for 5 months, he's only had one anxiety attack which i was out of town for, i'd only seen him cry a handful of times, and it was never for long, it was always just a few tears.

"come on, come lay down yeah?" i say softly, sitting down in his bed, my back pressed against his his headboard as i pat the spot next to me, matt flops down, his body shaking ever so slightly, he rests his head on my lap.

a silence grows in the room before its broken with a loud sob from matt. my heart drops. my throat burns as matt starts to cry. "oh baby." i say, reaching my hands into his hair as i start to play with it soothingly.

"please talk to me whenever you feel even a little better okay?" i say, my voice barely audible. his tears paint my pyjama shorts.

"you're doing so well matt. let it out for me."

i lean down, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose, which is damp, but it doesn't bother me at all right now.

"im sorry." he says in between shaky cries.

"matt." i say reaching my hands down and hold his body, "dont say sorry, this is the least i can do okay, i love you so much." i say, squeezing his side tighter.

after a few more minutes his sobs become lighter, he takes a deep breath before starting -

"its just everything, i’ve got no privacy left, it’s just so much.. pressure.” he says, his voice shaking with each word.

“i know matt, but so so many people love you, i love you, your family loves you and your friends love you, your fans love you and everything you do, that’s why you’re feeling pressure ‘cause you don’t want to disappoint them, you think?”

i assure him, he sits up slightly, resting on my chest.

matt nods before he sits up fully, moving his body around to face me on the bed, tears present on his face. i reach two hands out, wiping his cheeks with my thumbs before holding both sides of his face.

“i’m so happy to have you matt.” i say, wiping my hands on my sweater. i lean towards him, placing gentle kisses all over his face.

“don’t make me cry again y/n, i don’t deserve anything you do.” matt says, a warm smile spread across his face.

suddenly my face lights up

“oh shit wait!” i say reaching into my pocket, pulling out a small pug stuffed animal, i hold it up proudly “i got you this, it was really reminded me of you when i saw it.”

matt’s jaw drops.

“no way! oh my god.” he says, lunging towards me and tackling me in a hug. he pecks my lips multiple times “thank you so much what!!” he smiles, pure joy spread across his face.

“you’re so cute matt.” i laugh, cuddling him.

me and matt both dozed off around an hour ago, but i’m woken up by chris and nicks whispers, they’re both standing in the door, staring at us as matt holds the pug tight, his eyes shut and soft snores leaving his mouth.

“how the fuck did she do that.” i hear chris say

“do what?” nick says, a smile on his face.

“what do you mean ‘do what’, she’s only been here for like 2 hours and she’s turned matt from a emotional wreck to a fucking peaceful sleeper, look he’s even holding a pug toy!”

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#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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ywuji · 3 months

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Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his.

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

#ywuji #this is so long n so rambly HAHEHW #i rlly had fun writing this tho #i wld love to write more :00 #the last part is For Sure tacked onto the end but i wanted to include it bc i talked abt it alr Lol #apologies U_U #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi headcanons #fushiguro headcanons #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #jjk x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sluts4matt · 3 months

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y/n cops an attitude with Chris while they argue so chris bends her over the table and fucks it out of her by overstimulating her? idk. just an idea.

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

pairing: rough!dom chris x latina!reader

summary: chris had been a bit jealous of yours and matt's relationship lately, the two of you seeming closer than before. this irritates you however, and you're not afraid to voice it.

warnings: SMUT, pet names, slight praising if you squint, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, slight dumbification (sorry not sorry)

word count: 1207

author's note: boys being jealous of another guy and fucking you so good as a reminder that you're only theirs will never NOT be attractive to me. (if you saw this poll this was originally called attitude problem 🤪)

"are you serious right now?" you ask walking into the kitchen. chris is sitting on a stool by the counter, a can of pepsi in front of him while he scrolls through his phone.

chris looks up at you, a neutral look in his eyes. "what?" he mumbles as if he didn't hear you.

"are you seriously jealous of my friendship with matt?" you ask, annoyance rising in your tone. he scoffs, "when did i ever say this?" he asks.

you walk closer to him, crossing your arms. "you don't need to say it for me to see how fucking obvious it is," you groan, "i mean shit, kids your fucking brother and the only thing i hear anymore when i'm around is snide remarks and comments that don't actually need to be said."

the look on chris' face irritates you even more, "its the fucking passive aggressiveness towards him for absolutely no reason."

"he's not the one dating you," chris snaps, "he shouldn't have your twenty-four-fucking-seven attention," he states, "but guess what? he fucking does," his voice growing louder.

"and you wanna know why?" he asks rhetorically, standing up, towering over you. "because he's the perfect gentleman. he's fucking nice to you, and kind to you, and does all this stupid little shit that he knows you fucking like."

you kept your mouth shut, craning your neck to look up at him. "if you like him so fucking much," he states, "why don't you go fuck him instead?"

he was trying to piss you off, and it was working. you felt yourself get annoyed. "maybe i will since my actual boyfriends being a little bitch," you snap.

it took a minute for chris to respond, the look in his eyes showing anger. he was pissed, and you didn't know whether to feel satisfied or afraid.

he leans closer to you, and your back presses against the table, the corner digging into your skin. you didn't move, staring back at him with a similar glare.

"you wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going to the edge of the counter, trapping you between his arms.

"maybe i will since my actual boyfriend being a little bitch," you repeat. the look on his face darkens and before you knew it, he flipped you around, bending you over the table. his hand lands down on your ass, hard. a whine escaping your lips at the sensation.

"is that a fucking attitude i'm hearing?" he growls, leaning down to your ear, "because if so, i think it's time someone gives you an attitude adjustment."

you whimper, feeling his crotch press against your ass. his fingers grip your hair, yanking your head back, "you know, maybe i should call matt in here, since you love him so fucking much."

you didn't respond, feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt, pulling your panties aside. he was pissed, and the way his fingers rubbed at your cunt were proof of that.

"chris-" you start, only for him to cut you off. "shut up," he growls, unbuckling his belt. you felt his hard cock pressing against your pussy, "if i'm not getting my girl, no one else is," he states, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "'specially not fucking matt," he growled.

he slams into you without warning, and you scream, not expecting it. "fuck!" you yell, feeling him immediately start to pound into you. the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

"yeah, i forgot to tell you, baby," he grunts, one of his hands holding your hips, while the other gripped your hair, "i'm gonna make you forget everyone's name but mine."

you felt tears pool in your eyes, his fingers tugging at your hair, and the feeling of his cock repeatedly ramming into your tight cunt making you cry out in pleasure. "who's your fucking boyfriend, huh?" he asks, the hand holding your hip moving to your ass, landing a harsh slap. "you," you pant, "it's you, chris," you cry, your orgasm nearing.

"damn fucking right," he grunts, his cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon, "and what's matt?" he asks, spanking your ass again. "n-nothing," you stutter.

"that's fucking right, baby," he states, his hand letting go of your hair and slipping between the table and your body, rubbing at your clit. "shit," you curse, a sob escaping your lips, "i-i'm close," you whine.

"then cum slut," he states, the coil in your stomach snapping as your release takes over. "oh, fuck!" you scream, chris' thrusts never slowing.

"we're not fucking done, sweetheart," he states, continuing to slam his hips against yours. "fuck, chris, its s-sensitive," you whine. "shoulda thought about that before saying you'd fuck matt," he grunts, grabbing at your wrist with his large hand, holding them in place behind your back.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, his cock slamming into your g-spot over and over again. the sound of skin against skin, and your moans filled the room. "fuck, fuck," you moan, "please, chris, please," you beg, not sure what you're asking for.

his hips slam into you with a newfound aggression, chasing his own high. "i'm close," he groans, his hand making your hair a makeshift pony tail, just to yank back, your back colliding with his chest. "look at you," he cooed condescendingly, he placed sloppy kisses against your shoulder blade.

"getting fucked so good by the little bitch boyfriend, hm?" he asks, his cock still slamming into your dripping cunt, "you just love when i treat you like a fucking whore, don't you, sweetheart?" he asks.

you were unable to form any coherent thoughts, his thrusts hitting deep within you, the overstimulation making your body go limp. you let out a series of babbles and cries, begging for him.

"i'm cumming," he states, his voice low and gravely, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. you could feel his cock pulsate inside of you, the feeling of his warm release coating your walls triggering yours.

you could feel him pulse, your walls clenching around him, milking him for all his worth. your head rolls back onto his shoulder, your breath coming out in heavy pants.

"did i hurt you?" he asks softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips, and back. you hum, "a little," you squeak out, "but it was nice," you reassure him, and you could feel him kiss the shell of your ear.

"i didn't scare you did i?" he asks, and you could tell he was concerned.

"no," you state, "not at all," you add, and his hands go turn you around, lifting you onto the marble counters. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to hurt you," he states, his lips ghosting over your bruised neck, from the previous nights.

"i know," you state, smiling up at him. "did it work though?" he asks, his finger tracing your bottom lip, "forgot about matt?" he questions.

you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, "wasn't a thought in my head anyways," you whisper, your nose nudging his.

"good," he smiles, "i'd hate to have to do it again," he adds, pecking your lips.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72

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genderlessdude92 · 2 months

Note

Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU

AUTHOR RESPONSE: First ask but urmmmmmm OFC OFC OFC!!! I’m all in for dis req :3 I feel like i absolutely will eat up Al’s part of this post so stay tuned. Other ones are questionable because idk if it’s OOC or not but…I’m just a girl!! >.< (I’m a genderless dude as you can see from the name ^^) I’m sorry i’m not funny- These might be short btw im rushing a little bit bc i’m trying to start a multi-chapter fix yay awesome but uhhh i’m still having fun with this 💋

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AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

(and reader that gave birth to em somehow <3)

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PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, Vox x Reader, Valentino x Fem!Reader (ALL SEPARATE)

SUMMARY: Alastor, Lucifer, Vox, and Valentino are dads now. Aw shucks. (Headcannons)

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Breeding kink, (obv bc Val is in here), Val mention, reader is female because they literally gave birth to them, mentions of pregnancy, birth, Valentino being a weird fuck, Valentino again, unhealthy duck obsession in Lucifer’s area, Breastfeeding, Cannibalism, physical slaps, everybody being nervous shots but Vox, really rushed, lmk if i missed anything pookie (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

please don’t steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!!! (๑ᵕॢ૩ᵕॢ)*౨˚ൗ

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. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Alastor is 100% nervous at first since he has to be the dad and his dad wasn’t…the best!! ^^

-But also doesn’t want to back away because, I mean, it’s kinda rude to just walk away from your creation that you INTENDED to make real.

-This gentleman’s baby was not an accident, I assure you.

-Alastor would absolutely dangle the baby off the edge of a balcony just to tease you.

-Also tried to feed the baby devil meat to make it a cannibal.

-Suprisingly worked.

-Um.

-He probably got taught to knit by Rosie so if the baby ever needs clothes he’s on it.

-Cradles the baby during his radio show hours, aw, and if the baby ever cries he immediately cuts to a quick song break.

-If both you and Alastor are like completely booked and can’t take care of the baby, he’s giving it to Rosie.

-Rosie can’t? Charlie.

-Charlie can’t? Cancelling all plans.

-He just cares for his bloodline, yeah?

-If the baby ever needs like a chewy sensory toy, he’s going to try and get one that resembles Lucifer.

-Like and apple or a snake OOO A SNAKE NVM

-Snake is better since it resembles two ppl mwuhehehe

-Alastor would be a great girl dad but in general i think he would be rlly doting to them.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Oh, you thought Alastor was nervous?

-Oh, you’re so funny.

-‘Cuz Lucifer is QUAKING once he finds out you’re pregnant.

-and expecting.

-…and that it’s alive and out the womb.

-Basicslly all because he wasn’t really in Charlie’s life that much.

-But you told him that this can be a second chance?

-Which made him cry more than he was before.

-Yikes.

-Feeds the baby the most fine meals to ever exist for a baby to eat, even tried to sneak in some wine in its milk bottle.

-Then earned a slap at the back of his head from yours truly.

-You.

-I see him as a helicopter parent at first, but then is just chill once they grow more older.

-But he’s like, devoting his immortal LIFE to this baby 24/7.

-The nursery is themed ducks.

-Everywhere.

-Sometimes you get dizzy when you walk in.

-He even wanted to name the baby duck.

-You slapped him again, of course.

-This man acts like a 8th grade frat boy whenever you breast feed the baby like he just scoots away gagging.

-Another slap.

IM SORRY-

-One time in bed you guys were like getting freaky or sum and then you but his nip

-“Honey…what was that?”

-“That’s just how it feels, Luci.”

-“…What?-“

-“When i breastfeed B/N.”

-“…Ew.”

-“BITCH I-“

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Bro is so confident in being a dad.

-The first day after the baby was born he cancelled all his special guests on his show just for the baby to be the only one.

-This man is fucking insane.

-Puts this baby on his. advertisements.

-We’re talking billboards, pop-ups, etc.

-Only lets his supervisor babysit the baby when needed.

-Don’t expect Velvette or Val to even step foot near this baby without Vox in the room.

-It’s like a sibling love-hate relationship :D

-Now i wouldn’t say this baby was on purpose…most likely?

-But honestly, it might happen again because he thinks you’re hot pregnant.

-Who said that what.

-Omg who typed that???

-Fuck this is so short uhhh He like puts on child shows for the baby if they sit in his lap.

-But the baby never ever sleeps in the bed you guys share.

-not in a million years.

-Puts those shirts that look like tuxedos on the baby but they’re just printed on.

-Feeds the baby deer meat.

-Has a deer head mounted above the baby’s crib.

-Takes him deer hunting.

-Vox just needs em to learn early.

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

-Valentino was “so, so careful” when you guys did it.

-and this baby was 100% and accident.

-obviously you guys couldn’t abortion because like some health reason.

-Val cried that night.

-It was kinda funny that he was crying to keeping a baby.

sorry not sorry

-When the baby is born,

-Oh god should i write that

-Uh

-He’s probably recording.

-Not posting just like…saving it.

-Guys, come on, it Valentino, you should’ve seen this coming.

-Deletes it later though fuck that’s hilarious.

-He starts whining and crying when he sees you breastfeeding.

-“Your wasting the milk, mi precioso, are you kidding me?”

-He’s like in the middle of being a good dad and a bad dad.

-Suprised he made it that far on the scale.

-whenever he’s busy, he gives the baby to some random star and tells them to bring them back by like 10:30 or smth.

-with a coffee order. Very iconic.

-Same idea with Vox and liking you pregnant, and tried to get you pregnant again but you ask him why he doesn’t have a condom on if you don’t have your pills.

-He gets frustrated when that happens lol.

-Can’t wake up the baby!

proceeds to wake them up each night 3 times minimum

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: zomg this was sososo fun to write <3 But it’s so fucking short and i didn’t even realize until i was done. I’m actually so sorry. I still like these headcannons, very humorous, very real, thank you for asking me to make this because this is my first ask i got, i still have exactly 16 more, so ur just a little lucky duck, asker. Support is appreciated! New multi-chapter fix i’m working on might be posted on Friday-Sunday!! Baiiii!!!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

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master list ouuu

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #lucifer x reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 months

Text

Pilot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 4833

A/N: This is gonna be the slowest of burns. Every Saturday, these will publish at 3:00 PM CDT! I hope you all enjoy. Taglist/Requests are open!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

A trail of men disappearing spanning decades had brought you to Jericho, California. It seemed it would be a pretty standard hunt. From the moment you arrived, though, you knew this would be different.

You’d run into other hunters on jobs before, but none as strange and belligerent as John. John was all you knew him by. He was rough around the edges, and in all honesty, a complete dick. You had unintentionally gotten into an unspoken race with him to see who could finish the hunt first. Both of you refused to back off and go find another job; you just out of spite and him… you had no idea why a guy old enough to be your father was being so petty and territorial about this hunt. And perhaps that’s what fueled your fire to finish this hunt before John could. You thought maybe he knew something you didn’t about the hunt, and you were desperate to find out. But then… he disappeared.

About a week into the “competition” you were having with John, he disappeared. You didn’t see him around Joseph Welch’s house, the Breckenridge Road home, or the Centennial Highway Bridge. It was completely puzzling. He didn’t seem like the type to up and leave in the middle of a job, but you brushed the unsettled feeling you had aside to keep pushing through your hunt.

You had torched the body of Constance Welch the same night you guessed John left. You were just about to leave town, and then, Troy Squire ended up dead by what you assumed were Constance’s hands.

You pulled up to the Centennial Highway Bridge in yet another stolen car.

‘One of these days I won’t keep putting a neon sign on my back by stealing cars and actually find a way to buy one,’ you thought.

Almost as if on cue, another car pulled up next to yours. Except this car— a black 1967 Chevy Impala— was way nicer than the shitty sedan you’d copped for the time being.

Two young men in the most layers you’ve ever seen anyone wear in the California sun stepped out on either side of the car. You pushed aside the thought of how attractive the shorter of the pair was and kept walking toward the taped-off part of the bridge where a few officers were milling around a crashed car.

“Is that Troy’s? Oh, my God,” you shook your head, making sure the officers could hear you.

“Ma’am, you are not supposed to be here,” an officer told you, trying to keep you from walking any closer to the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—” you sniffed, “—I’m his cousin. We were really close growing up, and I, uh, just had to see this for myself, um, do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” a deep voice called from behind you, making you wheel around.

‘Fuck. The Impala dudes.’

“And who are you?” the officer you’d been speaking to asked.

“Federal marshals,” one said, flashing a badge.

‘Goddammit, more hunters.’ You held back an eye roll, doing your best to stay in character.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?”

The one you’d found attractive initially flashed a smile. “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You just had another one just like this, correct?”

The officer you’d been speaking to didn’t seem too convinced by their story, but replied anyway. “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what's the theory?” the taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” The officer seemed to remember you were standing there as he spoke. “Ma’am, I really do need you to go.”

“I was just about to—” you started, before the shorter guy cut you off.

“What kinda crack police work are you doing; talking about sensitive information in front of townies?” He was cut off with a grunt; apparently the other guy had stepped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time,” you told the officer, suddenly feeling very awkward. You turned on your heel, hurrying away.

***

After the bizarre incident with the other two hunters on the bridge, you went down to a local diner to get something to eat. You were puzzled as to why Constance was still around after you torched her bones. You flipped through a few pages of your journal when you saw the two hunters from the bridge walking in with two goth chicks.

‘What the fuck. First John, and now this.’

The shorter one of the pair caught the glare you threw their way over your shoulder. He had a smug look on his face you couldn’t quite read as he sat down in a booth with the girls and his partner. You did your best to listen in on their conversation as you sipped your drink.

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did,” you heard one of the girls lament.

You recognized the voice of the taller one. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughed, “—with all that devil stuff.”

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries,” the other guy’s voice broke in.

You held back a small laugh. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny.

“Here's the deal, ladies,” the pretty one said, “The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything… What is it?”

Your eyebrows drew together, your back still turned to the group.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” a new voice chimed in.

“What do they talk about?” the two boys said in unison.

It got a little harder to hear as one of the girls quieted her voice. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I already know that. They are way far behind me in the process.’

“Well, thank you for your time, ladies,” the voice of the taller one spoke amidst some rustling. You figured they were getting up to leave.

You dropped a twenty on the table, let the door shut behind the group, and stood to follow the boys out. You hung back a little while you watched them head to their car.

“I know you’re back there, sweetheart,” the pretty one called without turning around.

“I know you do. I was just testing you,” you said, walking closer. “Look, I’ve already got this one covered. You guys should find something else.”

“Not a chance,” the pretty boy replied.

“Look, man—” you started.

“We’re just looking for our dad,” the taller one cut you off. “We think he’s working this same job.”

“Wait, is your dad’s name John?” you asked, surprised.

Both of them started toward you, their shock and confusion evident. “How do you—”

“Whoa, easy,” you giggled. “He was here a few days ago and then he just, pfft,” you imitated a puff of smoke, “disappeared.”

The pretty boy ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated, while the taller guy continued talking to you. “Was he working with you?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, “we were kind of in an unspoken competition to see who could smoke this bitch first when he disappeared. And then, Troy ended up dead a day later. I thought maybe he was connected to Troy’s death some kind of way.”

“I don’t think so,” the taller one answered. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is my brother, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N),” you shook Sam’s hand. When you reached for Dean’s, though, he rolled his eyes at you without taking it.

“Oh-kay,” you muttered.

“Sorry about him,” Sam told you. “He’s—”

“A bit touchy?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed.

“I can hear you two, y’know,” Dean snarked.

“I know,” you quipped. “So, what’s your theory on your dad?”

“We have no idea,” Sam said. “We were hoping you might know.”

“I have nothing for you,” you shook your head.

“Well, do you know anything about the case?”

“A lot, actually. Chick’s name is Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white. She lives at the end of Breckenridge Road. I talked to her husband, and he definitely cheated on her. He buried her in a plot behind her house. I went there and torched her. I was just about to leave town when your dad disappeared, Troy wound up dead, and you two showed up.”

“Then, there’s gotta be something else keeping her here,” Sam told you.

“Okay, then what?”

***

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said. The three of you looked over the railing of the Centennial Highway Bridge. Sam had been nice enough to force his brother to let you tag along.

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we keep digging until we find Dad. Might take a while,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

“What’s Monday?” you asked.

“I’ve got an interview with law school.”

“Oh, shit, no way!” you smiled.

Sam smiled back at you before Dean cut in. “Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam cut back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

“No, and she's not ever going to know.”

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean kept walking down the bridge.

“And who's that?”

“You're one of us,” Dean said.

Sam hurried around him. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

You felt really awkward doing what felt like intruding on a private moment. Your eyes began to scan the railing of the bridge opposite you.

“You have a responsibility to—”

Sam cut his brother off. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

You were doing your best not to listen in on their conversation when Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge railing.

“Uh, guys—” you started, your eye caught by what looked like Constance standing on the railing of the bridge.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean grumbled at his brother; ignoring you.

“Guys!”

“What?!” Dean turned to face you, stopping when he caught sight of Constance. Constance then stepped off the railing.

The three of you broke off in a sprint toward the spot she’d leapt off. You searched the water below. “Where'd she go?”

“No idea,” Dean answered.

Your visual search was interrupted by a bright light coming on in the corner of your eye. Dean’s Impala’s headlights.

“What the fuck—” Dean trailed off.

“Who's driving your car?” you asked him.

He responded by pulling the keys out of his pocket and jingling them.

“Oh.”

The car jerked to life, heading straight for you and the boys. You broke into a sprint yet again, doing your best to outrun the car; a task that proved impossible.

“Jump!” you screamed, and the three of you threw yourselves over the side of the bridge. You thankfully caught a bit of the bridge that jutted out over the water and pulled yourself back up, groaning.

‘My arm’s gonna be sore as a bitch in the morning.’

“Dean?” Sam yelled down to the water below. “Dean!”

“What?” came his aggravated response.

You looked down to see a mud-covered Dean crawling out of the water. You couldn’t hold back a laugh upon seeing him.

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he called up to you.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you answered. “Don’t call me sweetheart. It weirds me out.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Guys, you can argue later. You okay?” Sam called down to Dean.

“I’m super,” his brother responded.

You and Sam climbed back over the railing of the bridge while Dean made his way up to you. The car had stopped only a few inches from where the three of you dove over. Dean busied himself inspecting the engine while you sat with your back leaned against the passenger’s side door.

“Your car okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean shut the hood. “That Constance chick, what a bitch!”

You chuckled to yourself at his antics. “Alright, well, I don’t think the bridge is what’s tying her here. What now?”

Dean raised his hands in frustration, flicking mud off his hands in the process.

Sam caught a whiff of his brother. “You smell like a toilet.”

***

Your next stop was a motel. When you went to check in, the clerk informed Dean that another man under the last name on Dean’s card had bought out a room for the whole month. And so, you and the boys went poking around John’s room.

Every surface was covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, photos, hastily scribbled notes, and bits of red tape tying some of them together.

“I knew John was weird, but this is a whole new level,” you commented, slightly in awe of the frantic scribblings covering the wall.

‘'Don’t talk about him like that,” Dean grumbled. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.” He started toward the shower.

“Hey, Dean?” Sam stopped him.

His brother turned around.

“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—”

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughed. “Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You guys are strange.”

Dean rolled his eyes at you before disappearing into the bathroom.

You started looking around John’s room. A closer look at the walls of information revealed pages on demons, witches, possession, and other bits of newspaper referring to mysterious deaths unlike anything you’d heard before. One was an obituary clipping from 1983; taking you aback. The picture was of a gorgeous blonde woman named Mary Winchester who died in a house fire. Her picture was surrounded by other house fire deaths and linked by red thread to multiple of the demon and witch articles. You walked over to his dresser where there was a picture of a much younger John holding two boys who you assumed were Sam and Dean.

“You guys were cute kids,” you told Sam, showing him the picture.

He smiled sadly at it.

After a brief melancholy pause, you spoke up. “So, what’s your deal? College? Law school? Part-time hunter? That doesn’t add up.”

“My, uh, my dad raised us as hunters after my mom passed,” he explained.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sitting on the bed next to him. “Was her death the reason your dad became a hunter?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure what happened; I wasn’t even a year old yet. Dean remembers way more than I do, but he said our dad was never the same. Anyway, two years ago, dad and I got into a fight. I wanted to go to school, and he wanted me to stay and hunt. So I left.”

“Dean said you got a girl now? Was that the voicemail you were listening to a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, actually. Jess. She’s— she’s amazing. I’m excited to get back to her.” You could see how much he loved her just in how his face lit up talking about her.

“I’m sure you are,” you smiled.

“So, what about you? What’s your story?” he nudged your shoulder with his.

“Meh, not much to tell.”

“Aw, come on—” Sam rebutted.

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “I’ve just always hunted. Never knew anything different.”

“I know that’s difficult.” His tone became serious again.

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I enjoy it. Brings me a little peace, y’know?” you shrugged.

“You sound like Dean.”

“Speaking of which, he’s taking forever and a day in the shower,” you joked. You bounced over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear on it about to knock. “Hey, princess—”

You were cut off by the door opening and stumbled into Dean’s chest.

He caught you by the shoulders. “You were saying?”

You shoved off him, annoyed by his smug smile and quirked eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Dean began, “I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?”

“No,” Sam said.

“A burger would be great,” you told him.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Dean said.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Aframian’s buying, anyway, so what difference is it to you?”

“Nothing, it’s just fun to rile you up.” He winked and smiled at you, amused at your aggravated expression before closing the door behind him.

You shook your head. “Dick.”

Sam laughed. “You get used to him.” He went back to his phone, relistening to his girlfriend’s voicemail. He furrowed his brows before pressing it to his ear. “What?” He stands up, catching your attention. “What about you?” He huffed when he hung up the phone, rushing over to the closed curtains to peek out.

“What, what is it?” You crossed your arms.

“Police got Dean. We need to leave.”

“Shit.”

Sam quickly pulled away from the window which you understood meant you had company. You hid under the bed, anxiously waiting to see the officer’s boots make their way into the bathroom. You began scooching yourself out from under the bed frame, and when he’d slammed the door to the bathroom open, you and Sam snuck out of the room. Thankfully, Sam had Dean’s keys, and the two of you sped away from the motel in Dean’s Impala.

“Well, shit,” you breathed, your heart still beating quickly.

Sam huffed out a laugh, still recovering from the adrenaline.

***

You and Sam were headed to Breckenridge Road to hopefully figure out how to stop Constance. Since you had torched the body, then maybe something in her house was keeping her alive.

After Dean’s arrest, the two of you were intent on getting Dean and getting the hell out of Jericho before anyone else had a run-in with the cops.

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered quickly. “Hello?” He tossed a look your way. “Actually, it was (Y/N)’s idea.” You had no doubt he was referring to the fake shooting you’d called in to the police department so Dean had an opportunity to escape. You motioned for him to give you the phone.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you told him once you had the phone to your ear.

“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart,” Dean’s gruff voice responded.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going to listen. Hey, give the phone back to Sam. I gotta talk to him.”

“And why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m offended, babe,” you quipped.

“Don’t objectify me.”

“Hey, you started it with the whole ‘sweetheart’ thing.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), give him the—”

“Shit!” you screamed, dropping the phone as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Constance,” he replied coolly. He kept a level head despite the tense situation.

You looked up at the rearview mirror to see her in the backseat. “Fuck.”

Constance’s hauntingly beautiful voice melodically flowed from the backseat. “Take me home.”

“No,” Sam answered.

You saw her glare as the doors started to lock themselves. You whipped around to start trying to reopen them. The car began jerking forward.

“What the hell, Sam? Stop!” you told him.

“It’s not me.”

You looked over to see him holding his hands up. The steering wheel was moving itself. You turned back to the door, struggling to get the lock open. Eventually, you wound up at Constance’s abandoned Breckenridge Road house. The car’s rumble quieted and the headlights turned off.

“Don't do this,” Sam pleaded, still holding his hands up.

The ghost flickered, sounding sad. “I can never go home.”

‘That’s it.’

“You're scared to go home,” you realized. When you turned around to look at her, she had disappeared. Before you could even turn back around, you felt the bench seat reclining forcefully.

“Sam!”

Constance sat atop him, begging him to hold her.

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

“You will be,” she hummed. “Just hold me.”

You fumbled for your gun hidden under your top. Before you could fully aim at her, you felt your back make brief contact with the Impala’s door before flying through the air. You barely registered Sam yelling your name as you groaned in pain on the dead grass beneath you.

You rolled around, trying to regain your wits and recover when you heard the sound of multiple gunshots.

“Sam!”

“It’s me, (Y/N), stay down!” Dean yelled.

Suddenly, Dean’s car burst through the front of the abandoned house. You pushed yourself up off the ground; your joints and back aching in protest.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean called after the car.

‘I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking,’ you thought.

The two of you climbed over the rubble to the passenger’s side window.

“I think,” Sam responded weakly.

“Can you move?” you asked.

“Yeah. Help me?” He reached out to his brother.

Dean pulled Sam through the window of the car. “There you go.”

You turned to see Constance looking sadly at a picture she was holding before slamming it to the floor. She glared at the three of you harshly, forcing a bureau across the floor to pin you to Dean’s car.

You groaned in pain once again as Dean struggled to push the furniture off. You stopped your struggle at the lights flickering and the sound of water rushing down the stairs.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” the echoey voices of Constance’s children sang. They appeared behind her, hugging her as she screamed. In a surge of energy, Constance and her children began melting to the floor. Constance’s resounding scream seemed to get louder and louder with each passing moment, the flickering of the lights becoming more and more intense. You squeezed your eyes shut until the screaming subsided, suddenly feeling the pressure on your stomach relieved. All that was left of Constance and her children was a puddle of murky water on the floor.

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said while you rubbed your stomach, recovering from the pressure of the bureau.

Sam nodded. “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the chest where he’d been injured by Constance.

Sam laughed despite the pain. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey. Saved your ass,” Dean commented, starting to look over his beloved Impala. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you.”

You giggled at Sam and Dean’s banter. Sam and Dean started to get back into the car, and you idled awkwardly.

“Whatcha doin’? Let’s go.” Sam looked at you expectantly.

“Go where?” you asked, feeling stupid.

“I think we make a pretty solid team. You should tag along.”

“What?” Dean asked while you started shaking your head.

“No, no, I shouldn’t—”

“You should. I’m going back to school, and I know Dean’s gonna be lost without me trying to find my dad.”

A slow smile crossed your face. “Thank you. That’d be nice, actually.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. And with that, the three of you set off to drop Sam back off at college.

***

The thing Dean so desperately wanted to tell Sam that he couldn’t tell you earlier was that his dad had left coordinates to a place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado in the journal he’d left behind in Jericho. John was getting weirder and weirder by the minute.

“AC/DC. I like it,” you said from the backseat.

“Thanks.” Dean cracked what seemed like a genuine, lopsided smile at you for the first time in the rearview mirror. “Sam thinks it’s mullet rock.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than Kiss and Poison.”

“True that.” Despite the fact that he was agreeing with you about something as mundane as music, his tone was still guarded.

“How far is Blackwater Ridge?” you asked Sam, who was looking over a map.

“About 600 miles,” he answered.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean cut in.

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Dean, I, um…”

The older brother deflated. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam tried to reason.

Dean nodded, disappointed, and returned his attention to the road. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

The mood in the car had turned tense, awkward, and sour, and remained that way for the rest of the drive back to Sam’s college.

“Dude, you go to Stanford?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sheepishly.

“Alright, smartass, look at you.” You nudged his shoulder with your balled fist.

Dean rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment complex.

You and Sam got out of the car. You gave him a quick hug goodbye before climbing down into the front seat.

Sam leaned into your rolled-down window. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded.

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Despite Sam’s chipper tone, Dean’s disappointment was clear. “Yeah, all right.”

Sam patted the car door twice before turning away.

“Sam?” Dean called before his brother could get too far. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

You felt a pang in your heart at Dean’s indirect attempt to try to convince Sam to stay.

Sam nodded with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.”

Dean then began to drive off.

The two of you didn’t get any more than five minutes down the road before you felt something was off. You could no longer hear the steady ticking of Dean’s watch breaking through the almost awkward silence. Sure enough, when you looked over at the wrist he had perched atop the steering wheel, the watch was stopped.

“Dean,” you said. You tapped his watch’s face with your fingernail.

He matched your worried glance, immediately turning the car around.

The car had barely stopped before you and Dean were leaping into action. You let Dean take the lead in rushing up to Sam’s apartment.

Dean kicked the door to the apartment open, calling out to his brother in the process. You gasped when you caught sight of flames licking at the ceiling coming out from what you assumed was Sam’s bedroom.

You heard Sam’s voice weakly calling his girlfriend’s name as you rushed to get him out of the smoldering room. You just barely caught sight of a body bleeding from the stomach burning on the ceiling before you and Dean dragged a screaming Sam out of his bedroom and away from the fire. You fought him every step of the way out of his apartment complex.

It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and the police to start asking questions. A small crowd had gathered to gawk at Sam’s smoldering apartment. Your face was steely as you watched the firefighters carry Jess out in a body bag. You and Dean took the brunt of the questions the police had, allowing Sam as much space as he needed.

You and Dean soon headed over to the Impala where Sam was packing up the weapons cavity of the trunk. Both of you seemed too scared to ask Sam what was running through his head, and neither of you had any idea what to say.

Sam threw a shotgun into the weapons box before muttering, “We got work to do,” and slamming the trunk shut.

You threw a look at Dean, who shook his head in response. Biting the inside of your cheek, you followed the boys into the car. As the three of you left Sam’s apartment in the rearview mirror, you realized the course of your formerly relatively boring life was changing very quickly.

‘Damn you, John. Wherever you are.’

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

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norrisleclercf1 · 7 months

Note

Could you maybe write something with Kimi Räikkönen where his wife is all sunshine and shy and tries to hide an injury from him and he finds out and then takes care of her? Could either be with Mafia! Kimi or F1! be Kimi.

A/n: Mafia Kimi? Sign me up

it was stupid really and you knew that when you did it. Kimi has always told you to be careful when handling the knives. And you should've listened but you didn't.

Wanting to make some new recipe that called for lemons, Kimi liked your sour treats more than anything, so making this shouldn't be too hard.

""Oh, Mrs. Räikkönen," You look up from reading the recipe to see one of your husbands most trusted men. "Val, hello." You smile softly, still shy around all the people. Even though you've lived there for years now. "You should let me cut the lemons," Valtteri moves to your side and reaches for the knife.

"No, no, please," He stops his movements seeing the way you curl in on yourself. "Okay, I'm sorry." Valtteri backs off but still wants to help some how. "If you want, you can make the batter." Val smiles and goes over as you start to cut up the lemons again.

Never should you have looked away from the knife, but you just wanted to make sure that he wasn't having issues. Pulling the knife back you freeze, feeling something warm but also stinging.

"Ow," Valtteri turns quick, and feels himself grow antsy. "Shit, Mrs. Räikkönen," You whimper as he presses a hand towel tight against the wound. "Lumihiutale? I'm home." You and Valtteri trade looks and he quickly backs off and you hiding your bleeding hand.

"In," You squeak and clear your throat quickly. "In here," Kimi walks in, his face stone until he sees you. "Hello, snowflake." Kimi heading to you and kisses you softly, pulling back. "What are you making?" Valtteri moves slowly behind Kimi, reaching for the bloody knife. "Lemon bundt cakes," Kimi groans, mouth watering at your baking.

"That's good," Kimi turns and freezes seeing the bloody knife and Valtteri's hand on the handle. The two men stare at one another, and you whimper. "Val," The other man swallows thickly, trying to find the words. "What, is that?" "Nothing," "I cut my hand," You and Valtteri speak at the same time, which has Kimi huff.

"You, out." Valtteri doesn't think twice and bolts out as Kimi levels you with an icy glare. His eyes soften when he sees the blood on the towel, dropping his head. "Come here," Kimi moves quick and sits you on the counter.

Moving around the kitchen he finds what he's looking for and smiles. Coming back he stands between your legs, pulling out a cotton ball and some antiseptic. "Why did you try to hide this from me?" You try to find the words but can't using your other hand to trace the pattern of his tattoos.

"Snowflake? Please, answer me." He begs, wanting to understand. "I just, didn't want to worry you." Kimi sighs, and holding your hand firmly so you don't flinch back. "You always worry me, don't hide when you're hurt. When you're hurt, so am I." Kimi places a soft kiss on your bandages.

"Now, let's finish these lemon cakes."

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anticanonsposts · 4 months

Note

könig taking care of us on our period but also not being afraid to fuck us 🙈

muahaha here you go darling

cw: nsfw-mdni, p in v, fingering, blood, feelings of embarrassment, teasing??

You didn’t mean for it to happen but you invited your boyfriend König over and one thing led to another and now you were straddled on his lap, both of you shirtless, with no space in between the two of you, essentially consuming each other. His greedy little (big) hands were not being shy and running along every part of your body. Clawing your hands down to his fly you start to unzip it, feeling his growing hard dick under his pants. But he gently bats your hands away and instead works to take off your pants. Sitting up on your knees you help him by shimmying out of them which elicits a groan from him.

‘Eager there big guy huh?’ you tease which earns you a soft spank to your butt. Giggling, you go back to eating his face only breaking away when he says,

“Can I finger you?”

Responding with a nod and ‘mmhmm’ you start to get off of him to lay down but he stops you, ‘No I want to like this’ his eyes gleaming up at you, clearly in a horny haze. As you return your lips to his once more his right hand makes its way down to your core. Gently taking his ring and index finger he glides against your slick and runs his middle finger from your entrance up to your clit. Shivering slightly, he chuckles. Absolutely giddy with himself. He loved that he was able to please you, make you feel good, you worked so hard every day so he really enjoyed seeing you let loose.

Gripping better onto his shoulders now, he slowly slides his middle finger into you, curving it slightly, then quickly adds his ring finger.

You gasp a bit, not because of pain, but you always forget how much bigger his hands feel than other people you’ve been with.

He quickly finds a good rhythm against you, curving his fingers in and out of you, his palm rubbing against your clit each time. Tongues still down each other's throats, the two of you stay like this for a few blissful minutes. Finally, wanting more, you pull away and say, “Shit, please just fuck me König” both of you lips puffy at this point.

“Do you want it that bad, hmmm?” he teases back before coating your collar bones and chest with quick, light pecks.

Bracing yourself on his shoulders you start to shift your weight off of him and he pulls his hand from you, only for both of you to realize his fingers and palm are covered in blood.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim, this has never happened to you during sex before, some of your friends had told you how when this happened to them, it killed the mood.

König’s eyebrows raise, his face surprised with a mild concern. Was he too rough with you? You’d done this before and nothing happened? But as soon as you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment he figures out what’s going on. But before he can react you have already lept off of his lap and run into the bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you quickly grab some toilet paper to try and wipe any excess blood that has accumulated between your legs. You felt absolutely mortified, you were sure he was grossed out, sure he didn’t wanna see you anymore, your mind just kept filling and swimming with worry. You were broken out of this trance by a soft knock on the door. “Liebe? Please come out.”

You open the door to your boyfriend standing there with a sheepish smile. “Oh shit here, wash your hands I’m sorry” you say which only gets a chuckle from him. As he grabs some soap and starts lathering his hand under the water you say, “I’m sorry that happened, I didn’t realize I was gonna start my period today. We don’t have to continue if you don’t want, but shit you’re probably still hard, i can give you head if you want-” rambling on, only cut off by his lips meeting yours.

“Liebe, do you remember what I do/did for work? Do you think a little blood bothers me, hmm? I understand if YOU don’t want to continue but just know you will get no hesitancy from me.”

“Shit-Sorry I just thought you’d be grossed out-”

“Stop apologizing Liebling! It’s ok, I don’t mind, your body is doing what your body does….Now, do you wish to continue?” he assures you, gently gripping your face in his huge (yes i know we know he’s big but you best believe i'm gonna mention it constantly rahhhh) hands. Noticing a small smile and glint in your eyes he mimics and starts smiling down at you.

“Let’s get a towel, and you go ahead and lay down, ok?” he says grabbing an old towel from under your sink.

Doing exactly what he suggested you grab the towel and make your way back to your bed, laying it out so that your bottom half can rest on it. You shimmy up, propping yourself up on your elbows, legs spread slightly. His eyes rake up your body as he rids himself of the rest of his clothes.

Then the bed dips under his weight as he crawls his way up to you, caging you under him with his arms on either side of you. Your elbows lock around his neck, bodies pressed together once again, your mouths explore each other. That is until you are whining, legs wrapped around his waist, grinding your heat against this core.

Knowing, he’s already teased you so much, he braces himself up with one of his arms and uses the other to line himself up with you, making sure to glide against you first. Then he slowly enters you, groaning at the feeling of you wrapping tightly around him. Finally bottoming out he looks down at you, immediately you give him a quick nod, begging with your eyes for him to start thrusting. And who is he to deny you? One elbow still propped up he uses his right hand to trap your jaw to keep your eyes on him, and uses his left hand on your hips, moving you as leverage for a better rhythm.

As he fucks into you, he murmurs praise after praise into your ears, “Fuck, dummer schatz (silly darling/treasure), you’re worried a little blood would keep me away from this pussy? Nothing could keep me from enjoying you, du bist zu perfekt (you’re too perfect). Blushing from his words due to your ever growing German vocabulary all you can do is whimper back, telling him how good he feels.

At this point he really starts pounding into you, slightly bouncing your hips off the bed to meet his thrusts. You move yourself with him, taking everything he has to give you. Feeling your core start to twitch he quits his hand from your hip and pushes your right leg up by the crook of your knee so that he more directly hits your g-spot. “mmmm-König-I’m..gonna cum” you moan looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes he loves so much. “I know libeling, come apart for me, ok? I’ve got you” he replies as you start rubbing slow circles around your clit. “I’m gonna cum with you, just tell me when you are!” he grunts out, more assertive as he is nearing his own climax. After a few more strong thrusts you finally come undone “oh fuck-König–mmmcuming!” you cry, core tightening around him, white hot pleasure coursing through your body. He groans in response and buries himself inside of you, balls deep as if he’s trying to get you pregnant.

“Fuck!” you both say in unison before laughing. Carefully he pulls out of you and you sit up to ‘inspect the damage’. His dick definitely has blood on it, nothing horrific, but clearly you are bleeding. “See, I told you I don’t mind” he says before laying on his back, pulling you with him to rest on his chest.

“We better shower babe” you pipe up still a bit nervous about the blood.

“In a minute, I wanna hold you a little longer”

That was just the first time bestie: from then on any other time you were on your period but wanted to have sex….

would be one of the only times he got mildly frustrated with you

having to repeat over and over again that he couldn't care less about any blood, as long as you were down

if seeing the blood bothered you he would have you turn around so you didn’t have to see it at all

doing it in doggy so that you don’t have to see his dick come out of you covered in blood <3 he’s so sweet like that

and then would quickly clean himself and you up so that you wouldn't second guess anything

as I said he would already be so down for it, but when he found out that orgasms can help with cramps, call him tylenol because he is on you so fast

after a while you realize that he tends to overstimulate you so much more when you’re on your period…because he wants you to not be in pain

this man is the DEFINITION of a period stops nothing but a sentence

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perlelune · 5 months

Text

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | x.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Disbelief shimmers in William’s green gaze.

“You’re joking…” He cradles your face, searching your eyes. They are steadily filling with tears. He releases you, retreating as his face distorts with shock. “You’re…not?” He runs his fingers through his brown locks. “God, I’m such an idiot.” He unleashes a humorless laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Your stomach sinks.

“This entire time. I waited for you. I trusted you. And you just…What? A-Are you with him now?” The betrayal quivering in his tone shatters your heart to pieces.

You lower your head and mumble, “It’s complicated…”

“No it’s not. It’s actually quite simple. Do you love him or do you love me? Do you want to marry me or do you want to marry him?”

William’s anger and frustration coat the air, his voice growing louder with every word. You tremble. Your fiancé’s never yelled at you like this before. You’ve argued, of course, like every couple does. But never like this. And never has he looked at you like that. Like you’re a stranger. You wish the earth would open up and swallow you.

“I…”

“Answer me!”

You jolt and step back, the heel of your shoe hitting the bottom of the stairs.

Your father appears in the corner of your vision. An exhale of surprise leaves you. He wedges himself between you and William.

“Do not dare raise your voice at my daughter, young man,” Strabo thunders. You gape at his back. It’s the first time you’ve heard your dad use such a furious tone of voice.

William lifts his hands defensively.

“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand-”

“I think it’s best if you go. Now,” your father urges, pointing at the door.

Your fiancé’s shoulders sag. He tosses you one last, heavy look, his jaw clenching.

“Yeah, maybe it’s for the best,” he belatedly grits out.

The second William slams the door shut, you’re in your father’s arms. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks drench his shirt.

“Dad…”

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

He rubs soothing circles on your back as you bury your head in his chest. You sniffle as a sob spills from your throat.

You doubt anything will ever be okay.

The rest of the day is spent in your room weeping underneath your blankets. It’s a wonder there’s any water left in your body, the ceaseless flow of tears soaking your pillows and sheets. Ma and Dad keep visiting your room, bringing you food and trying their best to lighten your spirits.

But nothing can keep you from drowning in your sorrows. William was the best thing that ever happened to you. You remember when you first met him at the University. The two of you were paired for a project and ended up hitting it off while working together. You didn’t even expect him to ask you out. It was no secret half the girls in your cohort harbored a crush on him. And with his boyish charm and outgoing personality, a contrast to your more withdrawn, lonely nature, you never imagined he’d seek your company past the project.

But he did, constantly finding lame excuses to talk to you like asking for your notes on a class or lying about needing a pen for a quizz. One thing led to another and, after a few months of courting, he got on one knee and asked for your hand.

Then Janus died. Your world collapsed. Colors dimmed around you. Everything stopped making sense. Still…William did. Whenever you were around him, you could pretend away your grief, laugh away your pain.

Your heart wasn’t so broken.

And now…you don’t think it’ll ever be put back together.

For days on end, you don’t leave your bed. The sun rises; it sets. Yet the same pains shackle you to your bedroom. Quicksands of guilt and sorrow suffocate you.

…Until you’re swept by a sickness one day.

It happens a little under a week after your return. You rush to your bathroom and pitch forward, dry heaving the near vacant contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. You then huddle on the floor, hugging your stomach as pain pulses through your midriff. Your brows collide in confusion. Hardly a bite of anything has crossed past your lips these days, as you only chewed on a few glum bites of the meals Ma brought to your room. Yet you are nauseous, cramps twisting your insides.

You bolt upward, racing to the toilet bowl again as another surge of queasiness takes you. Following that, you crash into a heap on the floor. Shuddering, you wipe the back of your mouth.

You crawl onto the floor, all the way to your bed.

Every day after this one, you awake sick and cranky, the same ache and nausea plaguing you. You also begin to experience faint headaches. It becomes dire enough for your parents to summon a doctor. However many times, he checks you out, he finds nothing amiss or wrong with you. Throughout the checkup, concern is etched on your parents’ faces. You’re forced to promise them that you’re alright and that, to prove it, you’ll show up for family dinner as you did before. Your father pats your cheek, visibly relieved, but the concern on your mother’s face doesn’t relent. She keeps scrutinizing you with a strange look on her face, one you’re not sure what to make of.

Still, even as you hug Ma and Dad, dread creeps inside you. Something else could still be wrong with you. The kind of thing there isn’t a quick fix-it for. The kind of thing you’d have to deal with for the rest of your life.

But you don’t let your mind wander there. Not yet.

As you end the day with yet another bout of vomiting and stabbing cramps, your mother rushes upstairs. She sinks to her knees at your side and strokes your hair.

“Are you alright? I heard you.” She frowns as she takes in your shuddering frame. “Perhaps we should call the doctor again so he can do more tests…”

You bristle. More tests would mean exploring other possible causes for your affliction. You can’t risk that. Not with Ma and Dad involved.

“It’s nothing, Ma,” you dismiss with haste. You put a hand on her arm. “Could we go to the apothecary this evening?” Her puzzled look draws a nervous chuckle from you. Twisting your hands, you chime falsely, “I bet it’s just a nasty stomach bug.”

Her frown deepens. “A bug? But you haven’t eaten very much lately.”

You shrug.

“It can still happen.” You slip on a mask of cheerfulness. “I’m sure I’ll be right as rain again with some ginger and camomile, Ma.”

“If you say so,” she says, returning your smile.

You’re a bit unsettled as you find yourself outside. The brightness of the sun sears your eyelids. You squint at the blue sky. You wobble down the stairs as your mother holds your arm. You’ve grown so accustomed to keeping yourself cloistered inside, either by your own will or the will of…others. Strolling along the cobblestoned path while the winter breeze caresses your face has a strange tickle running through you.

An awkward silence hangs between you and your mother once you’re in the back of a taxi.

Your fingers twiddle in your lap as you keep your eyes low. Who knows what Ma could discern in your gaze. You never managed to conceal much from her ever since you were a little girl. She was always freakishly aware of every blunder, bad grade and secret.

Her motherly instinct is infallible.

“Dad and I haven’t seen much of you these days,” she suddenly notes, causing your head to whip up. “I know you’re sad about William but…” She hesitates, gauging you before stating, “I think it’s a good thing.”

“Ma…”

“He was never right for you,” she insists, her inflection stern. “You’re a Plinth. You should aim higher.”

“Mother!” you hiss.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but it needed to be said.” She reaches out to drape her hand over yours. “You’re hurting right now but it’ll all be for the best in the end. You have a bright future ahead of you. That young man, nice as he is, was just holding you back.”

Mouth agape, you stare at your mother. While you know that she and Dad have never cradled William near their heart and weren’t too thrilled with your decision to marry him, you never expected her to be so callous about your engagement ending. In her mouth, it nearly sounds like a business deal gone wrong. But she knew William, talked to him many times, saw you with him. She has to understand how much losing him means to you. How can she be so cold and dismissive about it? You quell the budding sobs in your throat.

The quickness of the drive to the shop is a small mercy you bask in. After your mother spoke, the air in the car grew heavier, every lungful becoming torturous.

You hastily climb outside the car once it comes to a stop in front of the apothecary.

Windchimes sing above the door as you enter, your mother at your heel.

You linger by every shelf, pretending to be lost between all the labels.

“We could call the clerk to help…”

“No, it’s okay,” you cut her off. You giggle and shrug. “I like taking my time. Actually, you know what?” You grab a vial and shake it, pretending to study the label. You wave your hand at your mother. “I’m gonna stay behind and gather some more herbs. You should go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Befuddlement knits her brow. “I could stay…”

“I won’t be long,” you snap, your lips curving in a wide, painful grin. You squeeze her arm, your tone softening. “I promise. Just wait for me in the car, Ma. Then we could stop by a café and have a bite. How does that sound?”

She yields with a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

Relief fills you when she walks away.

The second she’s out the door, you’re racing to the front desk.

“I need a pregnancy test, please,” you blurt out, your voice barely above a breath as you keep stealing wary glances behind you.

The mere utterance of the request has your insides coiling in horror. For a while, you were in staunch denial of that being a possibility. But you mulled it over, long and hard. It made you realize that, besides the sickness you’ve experienced lately, you also can’t remember the last time you had your monthly bleeding. You’ve never been late before. Not even once. And while things are a little fuzzy in your head…you’re pretty sure over two months isn’t a good sign.

The clerk blinks at you, seemingly taken aback. Still, she silently moves her head in agreement and dives through a door leading to what you assume to be the back of the shop.

The wait is agony. You count every second, praying your mother won’t show up out of the blue and start questioning what you’re up to.

When the clerk returns, you free a deep breath.

She places a small, clear vial inside your palm. You give her an inquiring look.

“You must…relieve yourself and transfer it in this vial,” she explains. “If it turns blue, well congratulations are in order.” Her smile dies as she notices your tight expression. “Or perhaps…not?”

“Thank you very much,” you say, carefully squeezing the vial and shoving it at the very bottom of your bag.

For good form, you ask for some medicinal herbs, some for stomach pains and others for sleeplessness. Just in case your mother inquires about your purchases. One can never be too careful.

When you’re back inside the car, your mother beams at you.

“Did you find what you were looking for, sweetie?”

“Y-Yes, I did, mother,” you stammer, clearing your throat and letting your gaze roam outside the window.

You’re thankful she cannot hear the cacophony of your pounding heart.

You spend the rest of the evening with your mother, drinking tea and eating cake while she babbles about trivial topics. You try your best to listen, giving vague, half-hearted replies.

But your mind is already far away, a million thoughts bumping inside your head.

The entire evening, you’re restless, eager to go home and get answers to your questions.

It requires every morsel of self-control within you not to make a beeline upstairs once the two of you are back home. You give a swift apology and tell your mother the day’s exhausted you and you need a quick nap. She reminds you that dinner is in less than two hours and you need to dress up. You don’t argue, all too happy to finally be on your own.

Once the door to your bedroom is closed, you slump against it, all the tension in your body draining all at once. You take a minute to breathe, leaning your head against the wood.

You retrieve the vial inside your bag. Your hands quake. Your heart drums.

Hesitation slithers through you. What if you just tossed it out the window, forgot about all this?

No. This isn’t something you can cower or hide from. You have to face this.

Your entire life could change in an instant. And it might be about more than just your life.

Shaking from head to toe, you proceed inside the bathroom. You pee in a glass and pour a small amount in the vial.

Insides painfully tight, you chew on your lip as you wait.

Stay clear, stay clear, you pray in silence, as if the water could hear your plea and change the course of your fate by some fantastical twist.

After a few minutes, blue starts bleeding inside the water. It doesn’t stop until all of it has morphed into the horrifying color, bubbles rising to the surface.

The air in your lungs falters. The vial crashes to the floor, scattering into tiny shards as you collapse on the floor of your bathroom.

You gape at the blue puddle on the floor. Maybe it’s a mistake. Tests aren’t always foolproof. They’re wrong sometimes. Perhaps yours was defective.

For a while, you loiter in your denial, conjuring a plethora of reasons why this isn’t happening.

Then you slowly blink. You realize the puddle hasn’t moved. The shards are still on the floor. The blue isn’t gone.

An audible exhale bursts from your chest.

Despite your desire to pretend otherwise, you can’t escape the truth. The ghastly, awful truth. There are no more ifs and buts, no ‘perhaps’, no ‘maybe’…Just the reality that will make itself known to all much sooner than you’d like.

You’re going to be a mother. You’re carrying Coriolanus Snow’s child. The urge to puke, cry and scream all at once surges through you.

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready.”

Your mother’s abrupt call from downstairs has your heart miss a beat.

“I’m not hungry, mom,” you reply automatically, tamping down the quiver in your voice.

“You promised,” she yells.

Right. You did. Perhaps it was foolish of you. How can you carry on with dinner and smile at your parents as if everything’s normal? As if your whole life didn’t take a gigantic turn…the biggest one there could ever be.

You collect yourself. You rub your sweaty palms on your skirt and pick a random dress from your wardrobe. You’re a little shocked to find the closet half-empty, gut wrenching as you remember a good chunk of your clothes are still at the Snows’ apartment.

Emptying your thoughts, you get dressed, your fingers slipping as you fumble with the buttons of your dress.

Get it together.

You slap your cheeks and will yourself to act normal. You’ll figure out the next steps later. Right now, you need to make it through dinner.

The facsimile of a smile nudges your lips upward as you drag your feet downstairs.

However all shallow semblance of happiness evaporates from your face when you take in who’s standing at the bottom of the stairs by your parents.

His smooth lilt ripples through the room.

“Hey, princess.”

Your stomach drops to your feet. Victory sways in his cobalt orbs as he savors your reaction.

He looks the exact same as the last time you saw him, simply more put together in his crisp red suit and white shirt, his blonde locks slicked back from his face.

Every cell in your body is screeching at you to run from him. As far as you can. For as long as you can. And never look back.

Your fingers clutch the stairs’ handrail.

Your appalled gaze turns to your parents. They are entirely too calm for your liking. In fact, they appear more wary of you than him.

“What’s going on? W-Why is he here?”

Your father takes careful steps towards you.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should sit, have a discussion as a family…”

You scoff, shying away from his outstretched hand.

“But he’s not…He’s not part of our family. Or did you forget, Dad?”

Your father’s shoulders fall, a great weariness settling upon his features. In that moment, he looks every bit of his years, all the built-up grief and exhaustion displayed on his face.

“Yes, but, in the current circumstances-”

“What circumstances?” you interrupt.

“Stop it,” Ma snaps. She sighs, approaching you. You stiffen. “We’re not stupid.” She lifts her hand to cup your cheek, her voice mellowing. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Your eyes bulge, shock striking you mute.

Coriolanus uses that moment to join your mother’s side. He places a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Your heart threatens to leap outside your chest when his eyes lock with yours.

“Your father’s right, princess. How about you come down so we can talk about this…” He flashes you a wicked smile. “As a family.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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domnamewoman · 8 months

Note

what would shang tsung, syzoth, smoke and rain be like with a gn!witch? who do spell with more natural things, like crystal, herbs, etc... imagine them being like "I found this little rock, maybe you'd like it" and their s/o picks it up like it's a goblin lol. I love your work, u are amazing 🌟

Characters: Rain, Shang Tsung, Reptile, Smoke

Warnings: Witch!GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

“Can you hand me the duck feathers?” You ask, reaching out your hand to Syzoth.

Syzoth picks up the feathers from the table and walks over to you, placing them in your hand.

“Thank you.” You grab the feathers and stir them into the brewing elixir.

“It amazes me that all these random ingredients can be mixed together to create magic,” Syzoth says in wonderment.

“It’s not so much the ingredients than it is the intention of the person mixing them.”

“Hmm, so the real power comes from you,” Syzoth contemplates as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, I guess in a way.” You nod, “But I can’t enchant someone without them being exposed to the potion in some way.”

“You seemed to do a pretty good job of enchanting me,” Syzoth mumbles into your cheek as he places a kiss there, “Making me fall for you.”

“You are so cheesy,” You grumble, loving every part of it.

“I think I might pass out…” Zeffeero pants as he hovers over the toilet.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You apologize as you rub comforting circles on his back.

“Why”–heave–”Why would you even need a p-potion that induces vomiting?”

“It can be useful to demobilize an enemy during a fight,” You reason sympathetically.

“Except I’m not an enemy who's trying to fig-” Zeffeero gets cut off by more contents getting expelled from his stomach.

“I mean it is kind of your fault. Why would you drink a random liquid you haven’t seen before?”

Zeffeero turns his head to you and glares, “M-My fault? I was thirsty. Why was your potion in the refrigerator?”

“The ingredients had to be cold in order to fuse together properly,” You sigh as Zeffeero is hit with another bought of vomiting, “Okay, I should have labeled it. I’m sorry.”

“H-How long is it s-supposed to last?” Zeffeero pants out.

You cringe, “Two hours…”

“Two hours!?”

Shang Tsung stares at the potion you were brewing with repulsion. He leans over and takes a sniff before quickly covering his nose and holding back a gag.

“You know, I would be most delighted to teach you my sorcery. It is more sophisticated than creating vile concoctions like this.”

“Oh shush, there is more than one way to do magic, Shang. This is mine,” You say as you add five drops of toad’s blood to the cauldron.

“It’s tedious and ineffective in an emergency. You have to spend time brewing potions and then have someone consume it for it to work,” Shang Tsung argues.

“They don’t have to consume it, I can also put it in a bottle and throw it at them like a Molotov. Also, making potions isn’t tedious, I actually find it rather relaxing.”

“What could be relaxing about this horrid smell?”

You roll your eyes before turning to Shang Tsung and raising an eyebrow, “Well if your sorcery is so sophisticated, why don’t you zap away the smell?”

You and Shang Tsung stare at each other, your smile growing by the second. Shang Tsung pompously waves his hand before turning around and walking away.

“I thought so,” you chuckle as you turn back to your potion.

You’re standing in your spell room, organizing your crystals and taking stock of potion supplies when Tomas excitedly bursts through the door.

“Baby, I got you something,” Tomas sings as he walks up to you with his hands behind his back.

“What is it?” You excitedly inquire as you try to peek around him.

“Something almost as beautiful as you.”

“Show me already,” You impatiently demand.

“Ta-da!” Says Tomas as he brings his hands in front of him and extends his fingers to reveal a rainbow-colored crystal sitting in his palms.

“Oh my gosh, Tomas-”

“It’s pretty isn’t it? I knew you would lov-”

“No, it’s dangerous.” You snatch it out of his hand and jog to the front door, throwing it as far as you can away from the house. “That is a lifeforce-draining crystal.”

“I-I just thought it was a pretty rock… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head lovingly at Tomas as you comfortingly rub his arm, “I appreciate the thought, anyway. Just leave the crystal scavenging to me.”

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung #reptile x reader #syzoth x reader #syzoth #rain x reader #zeffeero x reader #zeffeero #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #mk1 #mk #reaction #mortal kombat reaction #witch!reader

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Watch Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

It wouldn't be a party with Harry if there wasn't some light fighting and exhibitionism...right?

Word Count: 3.2k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Shit…easy—easy, Bee. For fuck’s sake. Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Your eyes roll in response to Harry’s whines as you continue pressing the cotton ball into his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.”

“Oh, mhm. I can see that,” he snorts, leaning back against the wall. “I think you just like seeing me in pain. Sadist.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Maybe.”

Your strokes are gentle but quick. The fluffy, white fibers of the gauze work to absorb the crimson stains smeared across his knuckles as the alcohol seeps through the broken skin.

He hisses again from the vexatious sting before settling once more. The small bathroom falls quiet, save for the sounds of the party happening throughout the rest of the house, but you feel his eyes glue to your face.

“Bee?”

Your brow raises but you keep your attention on his hand. “Hm?”

“Are you mad?”

Great fucking question.

You take a moment to find your response. Waiting until the wound is officially cleaned before tossing the cotton ball away and turning to him.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I know why you did it. And I know you could have really hurt him if you’d wanted to.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip in thought, wincing some when he feels that injury as well. “Yeah, well—” He reaches up to press his thumb into the cut, “—I was feeling generous.”

You chuckle under your breath as you retrieve another tissue. Then, after dampening it with a bit of water, you push up onto your tiptoes and press the paper to the nick on his mouth.

“Still,” you murmur, gently padding the bruise, “I can’t be mad at you for wanting to defend me. Even if it was kind of dumb.”

His attention never leaves you. “I’ll always defend you.”

You smile.

“Especially from him,” he adds, glancing toward the door with furrowed brows, almost as if Eric is waiting right on the other side. “God, I fucking—he’s an ass, Bee.”

“Yes, I know,” you tease, stepping back to dispose of the tissue before grabbing the wrapping for his hand. “That is kind of his whole thing. Although you didn’t exactly help.”

Harry turns back to you, blinking innocently as if absolutely dumbstruck by the notion. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“No?” You begin bandaging his bloodied knuckles with the utmost care, despite the sarcastic tiff you two are in. “So…you sticking your hand up my shirt and sucking on my neck so he’d see was just…a happy coincidence?”

“I mean, I was pretty happy,” he argues.

You smirk, arms crossing when you’re through covering his hand. “Trust me. I know.”

“Look, I was just…enjoying the party,” he replies, shoulder lifting in a nonchalant shrug. “S’not my fault he just so happened to start watching.”

Your smile grows. “You wanted him to watch.”

He allows for a moment to look at you. “So did you.”

His tone has dropped to a devious murmur as he pushes off the wall and closes the small space between you.

Your lashes flutter. “Says who?”

“Says you.”

“Yeah? And when did I say that?”

He comes to a stop about a foot away, his chest thisclose to brushing against yours. The potential contact makes your head spin.

“When you were grinding against my cock,” Harry whispers, the proximity allowing for each word to dance across your cheek. “When you were whimpering my name. When you were guiding my hand under your little sweater the moment he looked over.”

He dips down, hoping to intimidate you, and you don’t want it to work…but it does.

“Isn’t that true, Bee?” he continues. “Wanted him to watch me touch you. Wanted him to watch me do what he never could. Wanted me to fuck you right there in the middle of that room and let him see how good you are for me.”

Your breath catches on the need bubbling up the back of your throat as you let him trap you against the sink.

“Asked you a question,” he pushes, his head cocking as his battered hand begins to reach for you. His fingers slip across the material of your sweater, and it seems innocent enough. For now. “Even though I already know the answer.”

“Yeah?” Your response is airer than you’d like. “And what’s my answer?”

The tip of his nose momentarily ghosts across yours as he hums. “Your answer…” he replies before you feel his bandaged palm smooth across your stomach, “…is yes. Yes, you wanted him to watch me ruin you. Yes, you wanted him to see the way you come for me. Yes…you want him to know how fucking well you behave.”

And maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re so goddamn turned on right now. You hadn’t expected to see such a violent side of him tonight, but watching Harry beat the ever-loving shit out of your ex changed something for you.

Perhaps with a little therapy, you’ll discover why, but tonight…tonight you want to chase this feeling as far as it’ll take you.

Your hand finds his hair, nails scraping at his scalp as you tug him the last few inches. “Har—”

“What?” He keeps his lips from you. Either because of the fact that they’re busted or because he’s trying to taunt you. But no matter the reason…it makes you whine. “What is it, hm? What do you want?”

Your other hand finds his shirt as your fingers desperately tug on the once clean, white material now painted with splatters of blood. His and Eric’s.

“You,” you breathe, as if it were obvious. “Please, Har—”

“No.” He straightens up, taking hold of your wrists to tug them away from his body. “No, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

He smiles. “That you liked it.”

With an overdramatic huff, you lean back against the porcelain sink. “And what is it that I’m agreeing to liking? Him watching us or you knocking his teeth down his throat?”

He hums. “Both.”

Torn, you bite the inside of your lip in thought. “…fine. Fine. I liked it. Happy?”

His head shakes once before he’s leaning back in. “I want you to tell me…how much you like it…when I play with what’s mine. When anybody could see.”

The recall to the conversation that night in the restaurant is like a tug on your heartstrings and instantly, your walls crumble.

You grab onto his face and smash your lips into his. And it’s a bit messy, and rushed, and not at all gentle from the way he hisses against your mouth from the assault to his cut.

But the moment you attempt to pull back in an effort to ease his discomfort, he puts a hand on the back of your head to keep you close.

He likes the pain.

You smile into the kiss but aren’t afforded the chance to revel in this gleeful discovery before he’s groaning under a strained breath and turning you around.

It’s almost violent the way his hands meld to your hips as he rotates you. Forcing your stomach to meet the sink as your eyes meet the mirror.

Your reflection is much too telling. You see your surprised expression, your wide eyes, and your swollen lips.

You see the soft stain of his blood smeared across your mouth. See the angry marks littering your neck from his previous display of dominance in the living room. See the way your chest rises and falls from the ragged breaths you’re trying to take.

And then…you see him.

Standing behind you, his body pressed firmly to yours. You see the way his arms snake around your middle, the white dressing around his knuckles catching your attention as you follow it down your body.

He’s moving for the button on your jeans, tugging almost angrily until he can yank the material down to your knees.

You’d forgone any underwear when getting dressed earlier. Something that wouldn’t be a standard choice for you when wearing a rough material like denim. But tonight, this choice was intentional.

You hear (and see) Harry growl the moment his eyes find the object sitting snugly between your ass.

And although he’d actually watched you put it in, he stares at it as though this the first time he’s ever been witness to something so beautiful.

You feel the rough fibers of the gauze ghost across your skin as he gently runs his finger over the tip of the plug. He murmurs something under his breath you don’t catch (but sounds a lot like, “Pretty.”) before he looks over your shoulder.

You find each other. And in this one, unspoken moment…you feel everything.

The wounded hand sneaks back over your hip as he reaches for your cunt. And you watch with a racing pulse as the reflection shows you exactly what you’ve been needing.

He keeps you cemented to his chest as he slips two nimble fingers down your stomach. He finds your clit but bypasses it without a second thought, making you squirm a bit in his determined hold.

He travels down your cunt until he can find the mess you’ve been making for him all evening. Until he can feel just what having this plug inside you has been doing to help you along. Until he can take a taste for himself.

Scarlet spots of blood are already seeping through the white bandage as he eases a finger inside. It has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever been privileged to see, and you clench pitifully as your head drops back against his shoulder.

He grins with this and adds a second finger in beside the first. He’s decided that tonight isn’t the night to be gentle. To go easy and give you time. Tonight, he wants to take what’s his.

His other hand works on his own pants and the sound of his zipper coming undone makes a shiver run down your spine.

You watch his light wash and incredibly torn jeans travel down his thick thighs before he’s reaching into his briefs.

You can’t see his cock, but you can feel it hit your ass cheek as he brings it out and pumps it a few times.

You’ve been needing him all night. All damn day, in fact. And this teasing lull he’s enforced only reminds you of this ache in your stomach as you whimper. As you silently plead with him to pick up the pace and feed your insatiable habit.

You have a feeling the tiny jewel between your ass is doing wonders to help him along because while you know he’d normally prolong such an event…tonight, he’s quick to kick your feet apart.

He runs the tip through a time or two before finding your eyes in the mirror.

“Ready?” he murmurs, soft breaths trickling across your shoulder.

You nod, fingers curling around the edge of the porcelain to brace yourself. “Always. Go.”

He smirks at your eager insistence before he’s pushing in. And it’s rather easy considering how little foreplay was involved. But you suppose there didn’t really need to be. Not today. Not after all the teasing and grinding you’ve been put through the past couple of hours.

Still, his size is something to be admired, and you hum rather contently at the delicate sting of such a stretch.

His damaged hand moves up to your clit, rubbing in slow, lazy circles.

You’re enraptured by each sensation. Each wonderful, purposeful sensation. His languid thrusts as he works himself in. His ministrations to your cunt as he plays with you like a toy. The stimulation from the butt plug as it’s brushed with each drive of Harry’s hips.

And him. You could watch him forever. The way his beautiful brows furrow in concentration. The way his sharp jaw clenches tight from the feeling off your body squeezing around him like a vice. The way those hauntingly stunning eyes roll back in his head.

“Bee,” he grunts, dipping down to press his mouth to the side of your neck. “Fucking shit, honey…wish you could see how good you look taking my cock right now.”

Honestly, you wish you could, too.

You reach back and card your fingers through his curls, tugging him closer. “Har…please—”

“I know.” He nips just below your ear. “I know. Gonna have to be quick, okay? ’Cause I gotta take you home.”

Your lashes flutter as you study him. “What? Why?”

He looks up. Finds you in the mirror. Smirks. “D’you really think I’m gonna fuck your ass for the first time in this shitty fucking bathroom at this shitty fucking party?”

Oh.

Your cheeks warm as you mewl your excitement and attempt to wiggle back into him. “Shit, then hurry. Please…please, Daddy.”

You know it’s cruel to break out the moniker so early, but you need him. Need everything he can give you.

And it has the intended result if the way his entire expression darkens is any indication.

His grip becomes tighter. His thrusts get deeper. His motivation grows stronger.

He bottoms out, sheathing himself completely as you gasp and surge forward. It’s everything you’ve been needing. Full to the outmost extent. To feel him everywhere.

He releases your hip to return a hand to your clit while that bandaged hand of his moves to your throat.

His rough fingertips press into the sides of your throat until your eyes grow heavy. Until your muscles have liquified and your body is slumping into his.

And he waits. Waits a second or two more until your pulse begins to slow before loosening his grip and letting you gasp for air.

And now that you can breathe again, it’s easier to focus on the sounds. The sound of his cock burying inside your aching cunt as it echoes around the light blue walls of the small bathroom. The sound of his heavy grunts and virile demands. The sound of your own whines as you whisper his name.

He slows his familiar rhythm. Lets himself drag through you until it nearly hurts. Until you’re left with this need to feel everything harder and faster and just…more.

His name drips from your tongue like rain from a cloud. Over and over until it’s all you can say. All you understand. Just his name. Just him.

He’s so beautiful. So absolutely glorious right now as he nearly takes a bite out of your shoulder, dark hair falling across his forehead from the harsh snapping of his hips.

And his hand. That bloodied hand of his that rammed itself into Eric’s face so many times, you honestly lost count.

He’s worn bandages before. Mostly after a round or two with the punching bag at the gym. And you’ve told him a plethora of times how sexy it is. You’re not even sure why. Perhaps what it represents, a reminder of the fight. Of the pain he’s endured.

Now? Now it’s stained with your ex’s blood. Proof of Harry’s love for you. Proof of what he’d do to keep you safe, make you feel comfortable.

Sure, Harry had allowed Eric to watch him tease you so openly for anybody to see. But the moment Eric’s expression had shifted—from surprised to cocky—Harry was flying out of the chair and throwing him against the wall.

It had taken you fifteen minutes to calm him down and drag him away to the bathroom. And Eric had simply laughed through the pool of blood in his mouth, cupping his broken nose as if he had won the fight. Just because he pushed Harry to his breaking point.

It was barbaric and idiotic and so goddamn stupid.

But you’d never felt so enamored.

And now, he wears this badge of honor proudly as he yanks you even further into his chest. As he uses your body for his own pleasure. As he presses his mouth to your ear and seethes, “My dirty little cumslut. Gonna come for me, aren’t you? Gonna come so I can take you home…and fuck this pretty ass.”

With that, he reaches down to slap his palm against your outer thigh, and the sharp smack of skin against skin bounces between the walls.

You’re so close. So close to getting everything you’ve ever wanted, and you don’t even care that half the house can probably hear you moaning for him. Can probably picture exactly what he’s doing to you as he ruins you from behind.

Which you don’t doubt he wants.

And maybe…you want it, too.

You can taste the beginnings of your orgasm as Harry chases after each whimper that leaves your throat. As he pinches your clit, rolls it between his fingers, presses into it until you see stars.

“Watch me,” he breathes, as if he thinks you could ever do anything else. “You fucking watch me ruin you. Watch the way you come for me. Watch the way you fucking fall apart like my perfect little whore.”

And you do. You watch him. Watch as he smooths his fingers through you. Watch as he spreads you. Watch as he feels you. Watch him touch you with a focused care that only comes from a man who gets more satisfaction from your orgasm than his own.

And it’s quite fun. Quite erotic. To see that tattooed arm flex and roll as he feels you out. As he allows you to see how red and needy your body has become for him. As he slaps his palm against your pussy just to feel you jolt and clench down on him.

And then…the door opens.

It opens, and neither one of you has to look over to know who’s caught you. You can see her reflection in the mirror.

Tina.

You watch as she goes deathly still, face paling as her mouth falls open, an assumed apology already locked and loaded.

But for some reason…she doesn’t leave. At least not immediately as she looks between you and seems to piece a few extra things together.

And Harry doesn’t stop. Because of course he doesn’t stop. You don’t imagine a fucking hurricane ripping through the house could make him stop.

He simply smirks as he leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek before groaning lowly and lewdly.

And it’s your name he says as he scratches his nails down the front of your throat. Your name that he practically sings as he whispers, “Bet you fucking love this, hm, Bee? Should I let her watch? Let her watch you come for me?”

And you trip over a broken whimper as Tina quickly backs away, slams the door shut, and calls out a flustered, “Sorry!” through the wall.

Alone again, Harry picks up the pace. The noises being grunted into your ear now much more animalistic the closer he gets to his own release.

You watch as the poor cut down his bottom lip cracks open a bit more with each audacious kiss. Until the entire left side of your face is smeared with little droplets of his blood.

God, you love wearing him like this. More than anything and seeing it in the reflection is what pushes you over.

His bandaged hand on your throat, his tattooed arm spreading your pussy open, and his outrageously thick cock making a home inside your cunt.

The sound you make is a strange mix between a gasp and a scream, but it makes the vein in Harry’s neck twitch as he groans.

Not long after, he’s painting your insides with his come. And it’s warm, and full, and the absolute perfect end to a perfect party.

Because you know…

This is only the beginning.

Next Part:

~ Lead Me*

Previous Part:

~ Find Me*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags: (Since this is an extra, I have no idea if you guys want to be tagged in it, but if not, please let me know! And I will remove you promptly! But if you are okay with being on this list, then welcome back, I've missed you🥹💞)

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs @buckybarnessimpp @whoreforjamesbuckybarnes @cherryluvhobi @mybabyh @xellybellyx @harrysxcarolina @reneemunson @juliatpwk @wolfmoonmusic @buckyssbestgirl @wandasbae616 @straightontilmornin @imavirginhoe @nuggetdean @tiaamberxx @chubby-cheek-calum @itsmytimetoodream

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles teach me #teach me #teach me extra #harry and bee #smut

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youaintnothinbuta · 6 months

Note

Howdy! I would like to order something from Willy Wonka (2023) In which Willy unknowingly falls in love with Reader. He consults Noodle (also Lofty) and ends up also realizing that he gets jealous when he sees Reader's interaction with a boy (And sorry if my English is bad! The english it's not my first language)

Thank you for this request, it lowkey made me blush and kick my feet while writing it, and I have a part 2 already lined up if anyone wants that !!

“Are you asking me on a date, William Wonka?” — willy wonka x reader

Summary: Willy confides in Noodle about his growing feelings for you, leading to a revelation of his love. The next day, with Noodle's insight, Willy and you share a moment of intimacy in his room, and he nervously invites you on a date, admitting his feelings.

Pairing: Timothee!Willy Wonka x fem!reader (help never thought I’d be writing this but here we are)

Word count: 758

Warnings: disgustingly innocent fluff and maybe some typos

Part two here!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Willy quietly made his way though the dusty, creaky hallway of Ms Scrubbit’s penitentiary, to Noodle’s room, as he could still see a faint glow coming from her lantern, a hopeful sign she was still awake.

“Noodle,” he said as he jumped into her presence, startling her slightly.

Noodle looked up from her book, noting the turmoil on Willy’s face.

“Something on your mind?” She asked.

Willy sighed, slumping onto the floor. “Yeah, something. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Noodle, with her licorice wand in hand, responded, “Spill it, Willy. What's on your mind?”

Willy scratched the back of his head. “It’s Y/N. I mean, we’re friends, right? But lately, it’s like… I don’t know.” He trailed off, unsure of if what he was saying even mattered.

Noodle grinned knowingly, “Go on.”

“I just feel like I constantly want her, you know, around.”

Noodle grabbed her pillow and shoved her face in it to conceal a squeal.

“I knew it!” She cheered, “I knew it!”, she repeated herself more quietly, realising it was late at night.

“What?” Willy asked, his curiosity peaked.

“You’re in love.” Noodle smiled.

“Oh, I don’t think I—“ his sentence was cut short by Noodle.

“Imagine her with another man. How does that make you feel?”

Willy shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “It’s fine.”

Noodle arched an eyebrow. “Willy, you’re a terrible liar. Think about it, and be honest with yourself.”

Willy frowned, pondering Noodle’s words. A subtle realisation dawned on him as he recalled moments when you interacted with others. An undercurrent of unease washed over him. “Alright. Maybe I don’t like it.”

Noodle grinned. “You have to tell her, you have to!”

Willy’s eyes widened, “No! I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She frowned.

Willy sighed, still grappling with the revelation. “But what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything?”

Noodle chuckled. “You won’t know unless you try. Maybe you should let her decide how she feels.”

After a long chat, Willy and Noodle decided it was best to call it a night, otherwise they’d both be scolded by Ms Scrubbit and Bleacher for being tired or slow or who knows what else.

***

The next day, you, along with Willy, Noodle, and the other poor unfortunate souls that were indebted to Ms Scrubbit were up at the crack of dawn, ready for another day of scrubbing, washing, and more scrubbing.

Noodle, with her newfound knowledge of Willy’s feelings for you, couldn’t help but notice you sneaking peaks at Willy, constantly. Every time she caught you looking, she’d go up to Willy and whisper to him, causing quite the unspoken tension between you and him.

Later that night, Willy was sat in his little room, fashioning all kinds of chocolatey creations.

“What could he possibly be up to now?” You spoke, thinking out loud as you stood at his doorway.

“Y/N!” He stood up, his heart racing by your unexpected visit.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” you giggled.

“No, no, you didn’t. I was just caught up in my chocolate musings." Willy smiled, trying to play off the moment.

You couldn't help but be fascinated by the chocolate wonderland around you. Willy, in his element, gestured toward the intricate machines and delicious creations. “This is where the magic happens,” he explained, a spark of passion in his eyes.

As you both leaned in to inspect a particularly intricate chocolate, your hands accidentally brushed against each other. There was a subtle pause, a shared moment of warmth that lingered longer than necessary. Willy felt a tingle down his spine, and for a brief moment, it seemed as if time stood still.

Clearing his throat, Willy broke the silence. “Would you like to try something special?” he offered, holding out a beautifully crafted chocolate truffle.

You accepted it with a smile, savoring the rich taste that melted on your tongue. Willy watched you intently, his eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and something deeper.

“You have a way with chocolate,” you complimented, breaking the spell.

Willy grinned, his usual charismatic demeanor returning. “Well, it is my trade.”

Before you left for the night, Willy hesitated, a nervous energy surrounding him. “I was going to sneak out of here tomorrow, go into town for a bit,” he began, “you’re welcome to join me.”

A playful smile danced on your lips. “Are you asking me on a date, William Wonka?”

He chuckled nervously, “Well, yes, I suppose I am.”

Your heart warmed, and you replied, “I'd love that, Willy.”

Part two here !

#wonka movie #wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka promo #wonka premiere #willy wonka #timothee chalamalabingbong #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #wonka Timothee #timothee chalamet #lil timmy tim #Timothee!wonka

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goosewithtwoos · 1 month

Text

TOO SWEET

pairing: bob x reader

summary: bobs just too sweet

“You’re just,” you struggle to find the right words. “too sweet.”

Bob furrows his brow. “Too sweet?” He asks, placing down his tea.

“Yeah, that’s you’re problem. You’re too sweet. You let people walk over you. You need to have a bit of a backbone if you want to be respected.” You explain.

The two of you were sitting in his living room, having just come back from a morning run. You hated cardio - weight lifting was a much better workout in your opinion - but Bob was a runner and had wanted you to join him for a run for so long you finally gave in.

His Naval Academy shirt was faded in stark contrast to his blue PT shorts. You’d never be caught dead in PT uniform outside of the work day but somehow he made it work.

During the run, he had been explaining how this new command was trying to keep him from hops and began training him as an unmanned aircraft system operator. Of course, it was nice to have this extra knowledge but he was a WSO and should be treated as such. He talked for most of the run, mainly because you couldn’t speak for more than three sentences without getting winded, so now was your time to offer advice.

“There’s nothing wrong with being firm.” You sip your now lukewarm coffee, making a flippant gesture with your hand.

Bob shifted in his seat. “I don’t want to seem belligerent. It is a good opportunity.”

“But it’s keeping you from your primary job.” You roll your eyes. “Come on, Bobby, you don’t actually want to be some drone operator, do you?”

His eyes dipped. “No.”

“There you go!” You exclaim. “Tell them that. Exactly like that. You want to be a WSO. You’re amazing at your job anyways, they’d be stupid to keep you from it.”

A light dust of pink began to cover Bobs’ cheeks. You knew he had a hard time receiving compliments and always tried to brush them off. Your current attempts at getting him to accept compliments was exposure therapy and you tried to interject as many as possible during your conversations.

“I’m not that good…” He mumbles into his tea as he takes another sip.

You snap your fingers at him, shaking your head. “This is what I mean. You’re letting people get into your head. Take the compliment.” He dipped his head lower, taking another lengthy sip to avoid speaking. “This is where you say, ‘You’re right’ and ‘Thank you, I know I’m amazing’.”

“I can’t say that if it’s not true.”

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to kill him or squish him. He was so adorable and yet made you want to pull your hair out. It was quite a confusing mix.

“Robert. For once, if you’ve ever loved me, take the compliment.” You say, placing down your cup.

He shrugs a little which makes you gasp in mock horror before he smiles. “Of course I love you but it’s just hard to accept.”

You shrink back in your seat, crossing your legs. “Who hurt you?” You mumble more to yourself than to him. “Have you ever taken a compliment?”

“Of course!” He cries.

You raise a brow. “Three examples, now.”

“One, when I received my acceptance to the Academy and had my college counselor beaming with pride. She told me I had done well.” He looked proud of himself remembering that one. “Two, when I graduated and my grandmother came to see me, she said that I was the smartest in the family. And three, when I-“ His voice cut off and his ears went red.

“When?” You press, leaning forward ever so slightly.

He waves you off. “Let me think of something else. It was a bad example.”

“No, no, no,” you push. “Tell me.”

He turned away, unable to meet your eyes. “When I…I went…” his voice was growing smaller by the second. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand ever so slightly before finishing the statement. “on a girl and she called me a good boy.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter that came out of you. You’d never assumed Bob would have a praise kink, and especially not one that consisted of him being called a good boy.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Bob was completely red by this point, opting to drink his tea rather than respond.

“I mean, were you being a good boy?” He chokes.

Sputtering, he looks at you, eyes full of panic. “I can’t answer that!”

“Oh, come on, you can tell me. I told you about my…incidents.” Incidents was a polite way to put it. Bob was the first person you’d go to whenever something had gone awry during on of your hookups due to his understanding and nonjudgmental nature. No matter what you’d say, he’d listen and nod, telling you it was always the mans fault and even though you might have called him someone else’s name, it was his problem for not having a more memorable name.

“I think I was.” He says quietly, shrugging ever so slightly.

“I bet you were.” You hum, finishing off your coffee.

Bob just stares, eyes wide and lips slightly apart. His breath hitched as he tried to form a coherent sentence. A sound that slightly resembles “Huh?” come from him and you roll your eyes.

“You’re always such a good boy, Bobby.” You mean it as a joke. You were saying it in a slightly mocking tone. So why did the words feel so right? Why were they so smooth on your lips? And why - God, why - did they seem to have such an impact on both you and him?

Something changed in his eyes. They glossed over with a feeling you didn’t think you’d ever see in him. Desire. Need.

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a question, he was demanding. Damn his pretty blue eyes.

You swallow hard. This had implications. You could tell how badly he needed it and what it was doing to him. You didn’t want to just fuck with his emotions. But you did mean it. He was a good boy. He’d always helped you with reports and post-flight write ups. He always went out of his way to make sure you were okay. He was such a good boy.

“You’re a good boy.”

His breath was coming out a bit harder now, and his hands had curled into fists like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out and touching you. Not like that would have been a bad thing.

“Can…” His voice failed him. He tried again. “Can I show you?”

“Show me how you’re a good boy?” You ask. Your heart was starting to race. You’d never seen this side of him before. He nods fervently. “Okay.”

It was barely a whisper. You weren’t even sure if a sound came out or you’d just mouthed the words but once you’d said them, that was all he needed.

He grabs you by the back of the head, tangling his fingers through your hair, and pulls you into a lip bruising kiss. This was definitely not sweet. This was needy, urgent, like he wanted to devour you. You kissed back, allowing yourself to melt into him. He was taking and you’d give him everything.

He leaned farther into you, pressing you backwards until you were laying on the couch. He was over you, pressing all his body weight down, and you could feel what suspiciously felt like him grinding against your thigh.

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Your hips buck up, desperately trying to chase the friction against him.

His glasses felt cold against your skin and you smiled ever so slightly.

He moans into your mouth and pulls a hand from your hair down to your chest. Your hands grip into his shirt as he paws at you, feeling your ribs, waist, hips, anything he can get his hands on.

“Need to taste you.” He groans out, like it was paining him not to be nose deep within you. “Bet you taste so good.”

You’d never seen a man so worked up before. Bob was panting like he was in heat. And it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’m still sweaty.” You say between a laugh. He moved down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin, finding any open area and leaving a mark. He groans, pressing himself down against your thigh again.

“Bet it just makes you taste better.”

Your mind was short circuiting. Was this really the same Bob who once cried while watching a nature documentary because a penguin carried around a rock instead of an egg? The same Bob who called you when he got drunk to confess that he’d once stolen a phone charger from some gas station during a cross country trip when he’d lost his wallet at a Waffle House? Somehow, it was.

And this same Bob was pushing your shirt up and pulling your shorts down.

He looks up at you and it was a sight to behold. His mouth was slightly ajar, and his pupils blown completely wide.

“Hold these?” He asks, taking off his glasses and passing them up to you. You put them on, more as a joke than anything, but the moment he saw you wearing them, he surges forwards and kisses you again.

“So pretty.” He moans. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

You would normally feel self conscious but something about him made you feel so safe and secure. You trusted him with everything. He really was -

“Such a good boy.” You murmur as he began sliding down your body again. He stops, dropping his head so his forehead presses against your lower abdomen.

“Again.” He whispers. You could feel his breath tickling ever so slightly.

“Fuck, Robert, you’re such a good boy.” Your hand runs through his hair, pulling slightly before letting go.

He lets out a whimper before getting back to the task at hand, removing your shorts entirely, leaving you in just your underwear with your shirt pushed all the way up. He finds his place between your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. It probably wasn’t the most comfortable position for him but in that moment, you were sure he couldn’t care less.

He licks you through your panties, moaning when your legs tense around his head.

“Please.” You moan when his tongue presses especially well against your clit. “Need you so bad.”

He eyes flit up to yours again, his glasses having fallen partially down your face so you could see just over the rims, and it was a miracle you didn’t come right then and there.

Feral, a man possessed.

He doesn’t even bother taking them off properly, he just pulls your panties to the side and dives in.

It was good. God, it was so fucking good. Your hand finds his hair again, pulling him impossibly closer to you. It was like he knew your body better than you did, the way he could alternate between fucking you with his tongue to sucking on your clit.

“Fuck, Robert,” you cry out. “You’re such a good boy. Oh my God, so good. Such a good boy, holy shit.” You were babbling at this point, the words didn’t make much sense in your mind but your mouth just kept moving. “My sweet boy, my good boy, fuck honey, you’re amazing.”

He pulls away and you want to cry. He presses kisses against your thigh while you try to remember how to breath properly.

“You taste so good. Wanna keep you here forever so I can have this forever.” He says.

You nod in agreement. “Please. You can. Anytime you want.”

His groan sends vibrations through you. You’re mind is a daze. Your hand cups his cheek, gently rubbing the side of his face. His stubble feels rough under your skin but the coarseness only makes your heart swell more.

“Gonna make me come like a good boy?” You ask, voice barely a whisper.

He responds by diving back in, tongue licking up your slit, collecting your wetness on his lips. Your back arches again, hips bucking. His glasses begin to slip off but your mind can’t care about anything other than the man who’s head is currently between your legs, showing you more pleasure than any man has shown you before.

He wraps his arm around so that his hands are free and you can feel his biceps tensing under your legs. The thought of his muscles had never turned you on before but suddenly, it caused a rush of heat to shoot through you.

His thumb comes down to play with your clit while his mouth still works your slit. The light teasing circles from his finger was such a different feeling from how his relentless and eager tongue was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You could feel that cool in your stomach tightening. Your hips were bucking more frequently and when you felt his index finger run across your folds, you knew you were a goner.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Robert, please.” You moan.

“You don’t gotta beg.” He tells you, resting his head on your thigh for a moment, taking you in. His fingers were still working you, keeping you right on the edge. “I’ll give you everything you need.” His accent was thicker than normal and you wanted to see just how deep it could get. Another time though, you didn’t want any distractions from this current event.

When his mouth connects with your clit, you swear it was a religious experience, and you were coming before you even realized it.

“Good boy, good boy, good boy.” You keep repeating as he works you down from your high. Finally, once he deems you to be clean enough, he lifts his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you uh…do you want anything for yourself?”

He looks to the side sheepishly. “I’m…good.” You sit up quickly and look at him. A wet spot stains his crotch just barely visible in his PT shorts. The thought of him coming just from eating you out sends another wave through you.

Perhaps a five minute intermission before round two wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

#top gun smut #bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader smut #top gun maverick #top gun #bob floyd fucks #top gun x reader #tgm #tgm smut #i love bob so much y’all don’t understand

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