#even though he was following the footsteps of his father | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 9 months

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i fucking love ur writing sm mamas!

anyway. Toji making reader pregnant cause toji found out that reader loves kids <33333

It’s fine if you don’t want to. Anyway love you and your writing darling . 🎐

No, noonie, stop bc like, are you in my brain or smthn!!?? I was thinking about this exact prompt for a long while, and I see this appear in my inbox??! Well, well, *cracks knuckles* you've just given me the perfect opportunity mwahahahaha!!! This has been in my drafts for a minute, but I'm glad it's finally done! And omg tysm for loving me and my stuff, honey!! Hope I make ya proud with this one :') ilysm ♡

Also, I'm mixing in another request into this one since it's a pretty small request (reader sucking on Toji's Adam's apple as he pounds you), plus it makes things easier for me in terms of writing out stuff. Hope that's okay with the other requester; if not, my apologies!ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞAnd btw, tysm for 1.6k followers, y'all!! Love every single one of you~☆

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - mating press - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breeding - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up!!) - reader skips the pill - fluff at the end bc why not - pregnancy (test at the end) - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', good girl, mama, sweetie) - oral fixation/reader sucking on Toji's adam's apple - the reader has stretch marks on their body bc I said so - praise - overstimulation - clitoral play (sucking & swiping). Wc: 3.4k

Toji, by all means, was not a man deserving of children.

His terrible childhood and upbringing have molded him into an emotionless and reserved person who only feels as though the only person he needs to look out for and care for is himself.

So when the premise of children came to him, he wouldn't give it the time of day. That is until he ends up having youths of his own. Even then, he would do the bare minimum of taking care of them — food, clothes, shelter, and taking or picking them up from school. And to top it off, his job wasn't befitting of a father — a hitman going mission to mission for money that he used to spend for himself, now going to the needs of his kids.

Toji knew Tsumiki and Megumi were better off without a father like him. Fatherhood (or children in general, for that matter) is no easy task, and it's clearly one he's not good at.

But all that changed when you came into the picture.

Never had he seen his kids warm up to someone, an outsider, so quick. Even when he mentioned his children to you at the beginning of your relationship, you didn't falter and happily wished to meet them. And the day you finally did was the day everything became a lot brighter for the entire Fushiguro family.

Not only did Tsumiki and Megumi come to trust you with every visit, but their adoration for you grew tenfold the more you were involved in their lives. And all Toji could do was watch you do your magic, whether it be watching animal documentaries with Megumi, making flower crowns with Tsumiki, or playing with them and the other kids at the nearby park.

And the most impressive part about it all was you teaching and including him in how he could get more involved with his youngsters. Now, his kids are closer to him than ever, going so far as Megumi clapping back on his father's snarky comments and Tsumiki having the man play tea parties (to his dismay, but whatever to makes his little girl happy).

It wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't had you around. You were just such a breath of fresh air to him and any child that came your way. Attentive and caring to the young ones as if you were a natural at mimicking the maternal role. He knew you'd be a great mother to any child, especially your own.

It was that thought alone that made Toji think about you having children. Or better yet, having a child with him. Making you pregnant with his baby. Making you his.

Toji walks down the stairs after putting his son and daughter to bed, his heavy footsteps beating the wooden floor beneath him with every step. He then enters the kitchen area, where he sees you washing the dishes from today's dinner after putting the food in the fridge.

When you notice his presence, you look up and offer a charming smile in his direction, your face illuminated beautifully by the ceiling kitchen lights that the image almost blinds him.

"Hey there." Your voice is always sweet to his ears, still smiling even when you turn back to washing dishes. "The kids?"

"Just finished puttin' 'em to bed," your eyes stay at the sink, but you can feel his heavy footsteps come from beside you. "But they said I suck at tellin' bedtime stories."

Your giggle is heard through the noise of dishes clacking on the rack. "Well, maybe you're not using cartoon voices like I told you to. They like it."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doin' that shit." You chuckle some more at his complaint, and he grabs a dry cloth to dry up dishes from the rack.

It's quiet between you, but Toji will sneak glances at you while you work through the dirty plates. His thoughts from before return, and all he can think about is you with a swollen belly.

The mere idea of having you bear his child fogs his brain. Witnessing your body change and expand with the growth of your little one within you, it's too much for his mind to indulge in.

The more he thinks about it, the crazier and hornier his mind goes. Unable to function suitably, Toji sighs heavily through his nose and places the dish and dry cloth on the countertop.

You notice him make his way behind you, his hands traveling down to your hips as his chin rests atop your head. But you pay him no mind and continue with your task. "Hey, darlin'."

The nickname has you hum to him, eyes focused on the soapy sponge and plate in your hands while your ears wait for him to continue. "Yes, Toji?"

He doesn't reply instantly, roaming his large palms up and down your waist and hips instead. "Ya know I love the hell outta you, right?" He goes on when you nod. "Always takin' care of me and lovin' me. But that love also goes to my lil squirts." A smile creeps in on his scarred lips as you giggle at his way of referring to his children. "It's just crazy to me how you're able to have 'em follow y'r every step, yet I can't even get a hug or smile before they leave for school unless I remind them."

"Well, maybe if their father didn't always bully and call them 'squirts' and 'brats' all day, they would show you some love."

"Shut up," Toji flicks water from the faucet onto your face, forcing you to laugh more from your teasing. His heart swoons from your laughter, having you sway side to side with his body behind you. "But I mean it; you're so good with kids. Makes me wonder how come you never had y'r own yet."

"I just love kids." It was a simple answer. "Plus, I never really had time to care for a child. Got work and stuff, you know. And besides, I practically treat Tsumiki and Megumi like my kids."

"Mmm," he replies aimlessly.

"However," you resume while placing a wet bowl on the rack. "I wouldn't mind having a little one of my own. Now that I'm pretty comfortable with where I'm at in life, I'd love to have a little baby to share it with."

Toji lets your words sink in before saying anything. Now that he sees where you stand on the topic, finally, he can voice his opinion.

"Y/n..." he treads carefully with the words he's about to say. "I've been thinkin' about somethin'."

"Thinking about what?" You can't deny the uneasy atmosphere with Toji's mysteriousness, yet you listen as you turn off the sink faucet.

The two of you stop swaying your bodies with each other. "How 'bout we have a baby?"

Your body goes rigid at the question, and breathing subsides as your mind goes rampant with reflections too fast to comprehend. He wants a child—another child!? With me??!

"Like, right now?" The only question that escaped your lips, your voice hushed to a whisper. No one else is here in the space but you two, although the talk you're having right now feels virtually forbidden to the tongue.

"Doesn't have to be right now," Toji moves his head to your shoulder, his hushed, gruff voice clear to your ears. "But as long as it's with you, one more kid won't hurt, right?"

And your breath hitches when a hand finds its way to the surface of your stomach, his fingers lightly teasing with the flesh of your abdomen. He places his lips on your neck, and you bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. "Mmmm, why do you want more?" You still press him with questions despite almost dissolving into his kisses. "You already have a gorgeous girl—"

"I wan' have your girl." He murmurs softly to your ear before lightly biting the lobe, and a moan slips past you.

"A-And...a beautiful boy..."

"I want your boy."

"Toji, please," you surprise the older man by turning your body to face him fully, eyes surveying his. "This is no joke! Just because I don't have my own kid doesn't mean—"

You're silenced when Toji brings a hand to your cheek, cupping a side of your face. "I'm not jokin', sweetie. I know I'm not the best dad in the world — hell, I'm pretty lousy at it. But you," he leans forward while you instinctively go backward, hitting the sink behind you. "You're basically a mother to mine and a real damn good one, too. And since ya said things are good now, why don't I make you a parent fr' real."

"Toji—"

"Like I said: it doesn't have to be today or tomorrow. But as long as it's you," his thumb brushes your cheek as he looks deep into your eyes. "Let me give ya a baby, angel."

All you can do is look into his emerald orbs that examine you for a response. The silence between you two is accompanied by the ticking sounds of the clock on the kitchen wall. And after a few seconds, you sigh and place a hand on the big one caressing your cheek.

"If I say yes," your reply has his brows lifted. "Will you give me foot massages and a bowl of ramen at three in the morning and not be a bitch about it when I ask?"

Toji gives you a smile, his scarred lip tugged upwards. And you return one to him as he kisses your forehead.

"Works fr' me."

This is how the two of you end up in the bedroom; the ceiling lights toned down to a low shade, clothes discarded on the cold wooden floor, and the sound of lips smacking fills the silence.

"Mmmm, Daddy..." You whimper through the kisses, your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and you yelp when he bites your lip. His lips gradually embark downwards to your neck clavicle. Kisses and light suck to your nipples make you hum in pleasure, and a gasp prompts out when his teeth graze the bud of your soft mounds.

A hand sneaks between your legs and nestles in between the lips of your southern entrance, his big fingers enter inside with the use of the soapy fluid of your cunt, and you wail from the contact while he sucks on your breast.

"Such a good girl, angel." He lets go of your nipple to coax you, his mouth sucking your skin as his mouth continues its journey south. More licks on your body feel hot, kisses placed on every stretch mark he comes across. And he stops when he passes your tummy, coming up to see the view of his digits pushing to and fro inside your leaking chasm. "My fingers feelin' good, mama?"

"Yesssss," you hiss, eyes sewn shut to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation in your slit. He chuckles at your delighted expression before he leans down to suck on your clit, earning a shriek from your puffy lips. "Stoooop, I-I'm too sensitive—Ahhaaaannn!!"

He releases your tender bud from his mouth after placing a chaste kiss on it. "Sorry, baby, gotta have you nice and wet fr' me." He sucks and laps around on your wetness for a few more minutes before withdrawing his mouth from your leaky chasm, substituting his tongue with his big fingers to swipe on your clitoris. Broken sobs seep out from you. "Cummin' on my fingers and tongue, that's my girl."

The throbbing commotion between your legs has your ears ringing and your head pulsing. You've already come three times for thirty minutes. He's such a greedy man, but whatever it takes for you to prep for him.

Speaking of which, Toji props your legs onto his shoulders while aligning his cock to your folds, lathering the girth with your juices. Your heart beats irregularly with anticipation on the rise, a position you're all too familiar with. Toji sees you gawking at his glans kissing your folds, and he sneers salaciously. "Ready, sweetie?"

You give him a smile even through entering your lustful haze. "Skipped the pill and everything, Daddy." And with a kiss on your cheek, Toji wastes no time and pushes his length into you with every inhale you take. And the both of you moan when the cockhead slides right into your vulva. Every inch of his dick descends into you, making you full of his size, and whimpers fail to be suppressed as he scrapes your velvety walls deliciously.

After letting you adapt to him, his hips start with a slow rhythm for you to properly situate yourself with the mating press. However, with how you're gripping around him, it doesn't take long for him to quicken his pace. Soft wails soon become stifled squeals with the bite of your lips from the growing cadence, and your eyes begin to water when the underside of his shaft grazes your inner walls.

But when the tip of his cock finally touches your cervix, a choked scream sneaks past your restraint. And Toji chortles. "Mmmmm, that's what I wanna hear." He grinds his pelvis deep into your cunt, resulting in forced squeaks from your tongue.

"Ahhhnnn! Daddy, please—Oh, Jesus," It hurts to think when Toji accurately jabs your delicate cervix, tears streaming down your pretty cheeks. "Oh, God, it's too much, too mu—Oooohh!!"

"I know, darlin', I know." He comes down to your face, yet his pace does not falter. His speed increases and becomes harsher by the second, and your head pounds hard with every rut. You nibble on his neck, sucking on his Adam's apple as he drills his dick into you. "Nnnngh, so tight on me, mama. Gonna make me go crazy."

As if he wasn't going crazier already with the erratic rut of his hips. Driving his cock deep inside and the sound of his balls smacking your folds is all you can hear. Your face is now entirely hot, matching the tingling sensation of skin slapped together between your legs. You dare to peek down to see the union of your sexes, Toji's member now harboring a white ring near the base. Strings of your slick and his spit keep you two connected during this moment, and more incoherent shrieks are pulled from your throat.

"Nnnaaaaa, ahhhaaaa!!! D-Daddy, please!!" While there's uncertainty about whether your pleas will be heard, you still express yourself to him. "It's coming, it's coming! I'm gonna cum, gonna cummmm!! Nnnmmph!!" And when he comes down to you with his complete weight caging you in, the pressure of his body has you submit to him completely.

"Yeah, wanna cum on Daddy's dick." He says with his condescending, guttural tone that almost makes you melt onto the satin sheets beneath you. "G' ahead, mama—Hmmph! Make a nice mess while I finish here..." His strokes become ever intenser than before; his length brushes your inner walls, and continuous pokes to your cervix prompt your orgasm to climb faster. And you soon fall into a wave of pure ecstasy, your cunt clamping around him desperately while your body trembles.

And Toji is forced to fall into a release of his own when the walls of your slit contract around him, spilling into you with the flex of his abdomen. His sweaty body is on top of yours, and your breathing matches his as you two experience each crescendo.

Heavy exhales sync as you two calm down within your intimate embrace. Your mind slowly returns from its foggy state with the calm atmosphere soothing your body, and your quivers now subsided while the older man lays kisses and sucks on your neck. But it comes to a halt when a sudden yelp comes from your swollen lips because he thrusts into you again, even with your vulva being extremely sensitive.

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, and it's not to your surprise that he has a smirk on that dumb, handsome face of his. His lips curled to where his teeth peek from under his scar. "Ya know I gotta fuck you more than once, right, sweetie? Make sure you're all filled up 'n all."

You suck your teeth with furrowed brows, but a smile comes up with breathless giggles. "I'm telling you, Mr. Fushiguro, you're most definitely treating me to daily foot massages when I get pregnant."

"Whatever you say," he shuts your threats with a kiss on your soft lips. "My pretty darlin'..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Toji twiddles with something in his hand while you lay on his chest in the shared bedroom. The kids were taking a nap after coming from school, leaving the two of you to enjoy the leisure of each other's company.

But today was a different day compared to any other. Because even if you two are looking at the television with the old rom-com displayed, neither of you is actually watching. Too busy distracted with the smiles plastered on your faces to care for what's on the screen. The only thing corrupting your minds is a matter that has you two in glee after a week of anticipation and mutual work.

The man peers at his hand to look at the object between Toji's fingers. Nothing but a pink and white stick — a pregnancy test. And at the center of the device conveyed two red lines, the signature implication that you were indeed with a child. His child.

"Hey, Toji," the call of his name has him look down at you, still facing the television despite your attention not wholly on it. "What do you think they are?"

"Hmm?" It takes a few seconds for it to click until he notices your hand brushing around your belly. He chuckles. "I'm hopin' for a girl. Wan' 'em to look and act like you."

You hum aimlessly at his answer before you berate him with more of your thoughts. "What if it's a boy? I think it'd be cute to have another mini-you running around the house."

"Nah, one mini-me is enough, and he already talks back to me like he's a teen." You giggle at the light sour face he shows and his complaints about Megumi. "Besides, I don't want another me. I'm already a lousy dad, and I didn't have the best childhood. I wouldn't want you to deal with a child that's exactly like me..."

Silence ensues with the answer; it's the only response you deem appropriate. That was the case until you say what was next on your mind.

"Toji, I'm sure your upbringing wasn't the best because people weren't there for you when you needed them. And although that's shaped you into the man I love, even I wouldn't want you to go through all that for a second time." You can feel the weight of his green eyes on you while you speak, though you don't turn to face him. "Nevertheless, times are different. You have me to love and care for you now—you and your beautiful children. You might not be the best dad in the world, but you've done a great job taking care of them."

"Thanks to you." He interrupts you, and you laugh.

"Yes, thanks to me. And because you have me, this little one won't be going through what you went through. I promise you, you're not alone in this. Because I'm pretty scared as this is my first pregnancy. But that's okay since I have you to take care of me. I'll be there to help you, and you'll be there to help me. As long as that's true, we'll do just fine."

Taken aback by your response, the older man turns to the pregnancy test still in his hand. The more he looks at the device, the more he ponders what you said. And a small smile creeps up on him, coming to a decision himself. At this point, it doesn't matter what the sex of the child will be to him. What warms his heart is that you promise to be by his side, helping him watch your little one — his child — his family grow as the days and years pass.

"Now," your voice brings him back to the present, whipping his head back to you. "I can't say the same if we end up with twins. Because you'll just have to deal with one while I have the other."

Toji puts the pregnancy test on the nightstand and goes for your nose to pinch it. "Fuckin' kid, who told you were funny, huh?" Your laughter only fuels him to mess with you more, but that's okay. He's smiling at your silliness, and that's all you want right now.

Because, even if they're not here yet, no child should have a father who doesn't know how to smile.

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

INSTAGRAM.

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

view all 4,964 comments

fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

view all 1,165 comments

yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

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yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fa14 #lance stroll

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blorbocedes · 7 days

Text

On: different parenting approaches

so keke rosberg has a world championship, and a newborn son. he retires the sport a year after, the shadow of tragedy following him -- the fatal crash of his friend and f1 driver elio de angelis being the reason.

now keke has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. he bonds with his son in the language he knows best — no, not his mother tongue rusty with disuse — racing.

so he builds a track in their garden in ibiza and sticks his son in the two person kart beside him before he is old enough for the helmet to even fit properly.

keke takes nico to the last race of his career in DTM, in a smaller replica of his exact uniform. keke tells him to wave. the roar of the crowd terrifies nico. he can't. he wants to be a racing driver when he grows up.

and you know this part of the story. the boy follows in his father's footsteps. in the sport of nepotism, keke rosberg is the only world champion father who lives to see his son become a champion.

so nico rosberg has a world championship and a newborn daughter. he retires the sport a year after she is born. he knows the same fatality of the sport his father does, has experienced and lost firsthand.

now nico has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. nico wants to bond with her in every way he can. he wants to be hands on in every way.

he speaks 5 languages, went to an international school and both she and her sister are enrolled in the same one. he reads parenting books, has tea parties with them, and drops them to school.

the thought of his daughters following in his footsteps terrifies him, and he understands now why his mother could never stomach to watch a single race of his. this glorious unforgiving sport of his, and his father's, that doesn't care who it takes. and it seems unthinkable to put a child in a racecar, even though that was his childhood.

but if she really wanted, like he really wanted -- he would not deny it.

so he takes her to a indoor go kart track in monaco, in a helmet that's bigger than her. he's tucked right behind her, safe. they share so many languages in common, french growing up in monaco, german at home, english at school, some spanish from going to ibiza. and this -- although it's been a while since he's really spoken it, his father's language-- is one of them.

#nico rosberg #keke rosberg #web weaving #my gifs

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hyunsvngs · 16 days

Text

priest jeongin in the context of me loving fleabag

wc: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, blasphemy kink, priest!jeongin (roleplay), dirty talk, dom jeongin (he's mean), sub reader, fingering, orgasm denial, a lottt of spit, wet 'n messy

“Kneel.”

It reverberates throughout your brain like a pinball on one of those old games. It’s strict, firm, but it still has your heart pumping so quickly as if it’s confused you. You knew he’d say this. You spoke about it beforehand, but god - nothing could have prepared you for the image of Jeongin like this.

His clerical collar is tight around his neck, the long strands of his brown hair tickling the top of it. He hasn’t got his hands shoved in his pockets or anything that could indicate the process of his falling apart, no - Jeongin stands there, hands by his sides, those big black boots spread just enough to have you staring at his crotch.

You drop to your knees. You make a thud on the wooden floor and Jeongin doesn’t even snicker. His eyes narrow in on you, and you lick your lips with anticipation. What is he going to do? You’re not sure, but then he’s leaning down too, fingers on your chin, and his lips press against yours with little warning.

He kisses filthy. You remember the first time you’d kissed him, and he’d been all tongue and teeth even then. He’s not any better now, tongue swiping over yours and his mouth sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. You want to squirm, to run your hands through his hair and pull your priest in for more, more, more, but you need to be good. If you’re not good, he won’t give you anything you want - it’s a simple exchange like that - and so your palms stay flat on your thighs.

When your lips finally part, a string of thick, viscous spit links the two of you together, and Jeongin groans. He can’t help himself, tongue teasing at the seam of your lips to collect your mixed saliva, and then he’s spitting it back onto your face. A large hand comes upwards, and the one already positioned on your jaw becomes firmer, keeping you in place as he rubs the spit into your cheek.

“Filthy,” He murmurs, eyes fixated on where your skin is slick. Jeongin’s worse, though, and he licks your face clean, groaning again at the taste. “I bet you’re fucking soaking wet, dirty bitch.”

You are. Your panties are grey and if he only spread your legs he’d see - you’re clad in only them, and the wet spot is so large by now that you’re scared it’s going to start dripping on the wooden floor. He coos at you when you nod, chest heaving, and he stands upright again, hands clasped in front of his stomach.

“What is it that you want?”

“I- I-” You babble, voice hoarse. He grins this time, dimples a perfect contrast to the image of authority in front of you.

“It’s meant to be a confession, right?” He says, still smiling. You moan. The whole thing is so dirty, so debauched that you arch your back, thrusting your nipples out into the cool air. He doesn’t move his eyes off of yours, wholly unaffected. “Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes flicker down to his fingers, still clasped together. His gaze follows you, and he doesn’t say anything. You lick your lips. “Please, father.”

Jeongin hums, nods. “Get on the bed for me. On your front.”

You move so quickly that it would’ve been embarrassing in any other situation. You’re on your front on the bed within seconds, and you spread your legs so he can see exactly what the situation is doing to you. You hear his stuttered breath, and then footsteps. He shoves his face into your drenched underwear and inhales, and you’re squealing, canting your hips back.

“Jeongin! Jeonginnie, that’s-”

He inhales again, pulling back. “It’s what? It’s dirty, baby?” He muses, running a fingertip up the seam of your folds through your panties. You’re so wet that your underwear must be translucent by now, and you gasp when the pad of his finger just barely breaches your hole, through the fabric. “I’ll tell you what’s dirty. Presenting this ass for your fucking priest is dirty.”

“Oh my god,” You wail, head dropping to shove your face against your forearms. “I-I’m dirty, father, I can’t help myself.”

“I can see that.”

His thumbs hook into your panties, and you hear them fall to the floor with an embarrassingly wet noise. The cold air hits your folds, a sensation so jarring that it feels like there’s something biting at the sensitive area between your legs, and you try - and fail - to avoid squirming.

“How long has it been since your last confession?” Jeongin says, voice steady, and you blink. Before you can answer, two digits are sinking into your hole deep, and he curls them upwards to hit your g-spot. The feeling makes you whine, and your gummy walls clench on his fingers, gushing more and more slick down to his knuckles without him even properly moving them. “Tell me. How long has it been?”

“I don’t- I don’t know-”

“You wanted to do this properly, didn’t you?” He scoffs out a laugh, digits finally starting to piston inside of you. You keen, trying to grind your hips to get your clit some form of attention with how it’s aching and untouched.

“Yeah! I did, but- I can’t- Iyennie-”

“Father.”

“Father! Father, it’s been-” You really can’t think. You’re not sure what he means, but something within you tells you he’s referring to the last time you’d been such a whore, needy for his touch, and that had been literally yesterday. “It’s only been a day, father, please, please, more-”

“That’s right, a day,” He coos fondly, and his thumb finally, finally, moves down to rub against your clit. It’s messy, imprecise, but you wail and thrash as if it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. It truly feels like it is. “I make you cum every single day, and you’re still a dirty little whore. You know what happens to bad girls, honey.”

“Hnng, no, I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“You don’t know many things, do you?” He sounds irritated now, his words coming out in clipped, short sentences. His thumb presses harder on your clit and his fingers somehow push deeper, all of their length pressing inside of you as the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. “Bad girls take what they’re given.”

You have to. You can’t find it in you to respond, and when you get so close, so close that you can feel it beginning to rattle your teeth, his hand pulls away. You want to throw a tantrum, to stomp your feet and beg him for something, anything, but your orgasm is ruined before you can find it in you to speak. He's snickering behind you, and you moan in dismay.

“That’s one,” He murmurs, and you hear the wet sounds of him sucking his fingers clean. He spits on your asshole and you feel it dribble down to your pussy, adding to the mess between your folds, a wet patch forming beneath you on the sheets. You're out of breath, toes curling and relaxing, tears biting at your eyes. “I think two more edges and you can cum.”

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strangersteddierthings · 5 months

Text

Good People - Final Part

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

It is not often that Wayne is happy with the monotony of work. Tonight is one of those nights, if only because it allows him to think about where he went wrong speaking to Eddie. He had never meant to imply he thought Eddie was like Al; he'd meant the apple and tree comment to for Richard and Steve. However, he does acknowledge why Eddie drew the conclusion that Wayne might have thought Eddie would follow in Al's footsteps.

Wayne's being a hypocrite, applying the logic to one boy, but not the other. And even though he never, not once, thought that Eddie would become Al, he'll never be able to take that thought from Eddie's mind that he had. He can apologize until he's blue in the face, Eddie might even forgive him, but he's not sure Eddie will ever believe him. Not truly.

And how could Wayne expect him to?

No. That's a shame Wayne will take to the grave.

Next strike to Wayne's conscious; the misjudgment of Steve Harrington, and how it ties into the fact Eddie accused him of not trusting his judgement, and, moreover, Eddie being right. Wayne hadn't trusted in Eddie's trust of Steve.

He should have. It's been years since Eddie came home crying about a boy, but what father doesn't see their kid crying over their first heartbreak and doesn't grow protective? And with Eddie, it's even more terrifying. Getting mixed up with the wrong boy could mean bruised ribs, black eyes, or worse.

In a town like Hawkins, a boy would just have to claim Eddie made a sexual advance and his murder could (would) be justified.

Now add the manhunt and being suspected of murderer to that. Well, Wayne's scared for Eddie's life almost every minute of his day.

But it's no excuse. Or if it is, it's a poor one.

Wayne doesn't know the full story but he does know that Steve was with the group of people on Eddie's side; that he was there with the Henderson kid, the Buckley girl, and Nancy Wheeler, digging Eddie out of the rubble from the earthquake, getting him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Steve Harrington was part of the group that saved Eddie's life, and that should have meant more to begin with. Instead, Wayne's been waiting for a shoe to drop that very well isn't coming.

He's going to fix this.

He'll give Eddie his space to be angry with him, and he'll try again in a few days.

When Wayne gets home, around 6:30am, Eddie's van is gone. He's not surprised. He probably left shortly after Wayne did, not leaving sooner just to avoid him.

There is a note on Wayne's bed when he makes it there. Says he's at Steve, and instead of letting Wayne know when he'll return it just says the words 'be back' followed by a bunch of questions marks. He ends it with 'call if worried' and leaves a phone number that must be for the Harrington residence.

Another hurt Wayne can't blame on anyone but himself.

Wednesday passes. Wayne eats breakfast, goes grocery shopping, pretends to care about his shows before sleeping the afternoon away to prepare for another graveyard. Eddie has not returned when he wakes, and two short hours later, he's off to work.

Eddie's van remains gone.

Returns from work Thursday morning and repeats Wednesday. He replaces grocery shopping with laundry and cleaning out the leftovers for trash day tomorrow morning. Goes to work.

Friday morning he returns home. No Eddie. He waits for it to be a more appropriate time, a little before 10:00am to call the number Eddie left.

It rings, rings, rings, then, a voice he hasn't heard in years. Richard Harrington's voice sounds as cold as it always was as the answering machine recites, "You've reached the Harrington's. We are not available. Leave a message."

"This is Wayne Munson. I just wanted to make sure Eddie's- that's he's alright. Let him know that I called. Checked on him. He doesn't need to call back but I'd appreciate it."

He hangs up the phone, lump in his throat. He misses his boy, and he wants to make his right, but he can't force that. Eddie has to always want to make it okay between them.

He's usually off Fridays, but he asked to pick up a shift. He can't face Linda without having fixed this. He spends the morning and afternoon doing all the small fixes he'd been putting off. Anything to keep him busy. He goes to sleep at his usual time, and wakes up two hours before his shift like normal.

Check's his answering machine but if anyone called while he was asleep, they didn't leave a message. There's still no van when he heads to work.

The plant tells him to leave an hour early. He tries to argue to stay but he's just waved off, told to go get some sleep because he's been looking a little worse for the wear.

He gets back to Forest Hills around 5:40am and finds there is another car parked at his home. Not Eddie's van, but the sleek maroon BMW that belongs to Steve Harrington parked where the van usually is.

When he pulls into his spot, the headlights of his truck light up Steve, sitting on his steps, wrapped in a coat. It can't be more than 50℉ outside right now.

Steve stands as Wayne cuts the engine and climbs from his truck. He gets to the front of his truck and Steve speaks.

"Eddie's okay," Steve says, hands shoving deep into his pockets, "I tried to get him to call you back yesterday but, well, you know Eddie."

Wayne nods, because he does know Eddie. "I appreciate you tellin' me. But you coulda just called."

"I could have."

They look at each other for a moment, and just as Steve opens his mouth, probably to tell Wayne he's going to go, Wayne speaks first, "you wanna come inside and have a cup of coffee to warm up?"

Steve tilts his head slightly to the left before he says, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright," and then Steve steps away from the stairs so Wayne can climb them and let them into the trailer. Steve follows behind silently but with familiarity. He's spent so much of his time here since spring break- the shame crawls through Wayne again. He'd assumed, once upon a time, that Eddie and Steve spent more time here than at Steve's because why would Steve want the trailer park boy in his big fancy house? Now, though, he wonders if it's because this place felt more like a home, even with Wayne's cold shoulder.

Steve sits at their little kitchen table, a luxury they didn't have before because there was no room in the single wide, one bedroom they'd had before. The new double wide (with three bedrooms) offered them a bit more space for a dining area.

Wayne's still suspicious of the government's offer to replace their destroyed home, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny the offer when it was made to him by Jim Hopper (newly returned from the dead back then).

"How do you take your coffee?" Wayne asks, once the machine finishes filling the carafe.

"Oh, I can fix it-"

"Nonsense," Wayne waves him back to sitting, "just tell me."

"I like it with just enough milk to take the scalding heat out of it," Steve says, and while Wayne's not sure just how much that it, he tries anyway.

He sets a cup in front of Steve before taking a seat across from him. "I really do appreciate that you came to tell me Eddie's okay. I want to give him his space but...."

Steve sips his coffee before shooting his cup a small smile. Wayne must have got the ratio right. Then, he looks to Wayne and the smile drops, a more serious expression taking its place and he says, "Eddie wouldn't really tell me what your fight was about, other than, uh, me and that you... overheard some of what I said last time I was here. I don't, like, want to come between you and Eddie, but I'm not, I'm not going to let you scare me away. So, just tell me what I have to do to get Eddie to believe we're cool, and I'll do it. Anything, except for getting out of Eddie's life. 'Cause I won't."

"I would never ask you to do that," Wayne says. Steve squints at him, a look of suspicion now. Completely warranted, given what Steve has known of Wayne thus far. "I owe you an apology, Steve. For how I've been treatin' you."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh. What? Why?"

"You've been nothin' but good to Eddie. For Eddie. And I refused to see that. I made a judgment about you without knowin' anything but your name." Steve let's out a soft 'oh' at that, but Wayne plows on, "And that weren't fair, and it weren't right. I can't undo it, but I want you to know I regret it. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Steve says, after a moment. "I forgive you."

It's Wayne's turn to be surprised. He's a bit speechless. So much so, he takes a page right out of Eddie's book and asks, "are you sure?" which is a question he's never asked after having an apology accepted before, but one Eddie had asked a lot when he first came to live with Wayne, and they were learning to co-exist.

"Yeah. I get it."

He doesn't like that answer. Doesn't like the he contributed to the mind set that gave Steve that answer. "You're allowed to be mad at me for it."

"I think Eddie's mad enough for both of us."

It doesn't feel like closure. It doesn't feel like forgiveness, but Wayne doesn't know what to say. He can't just start sprouting all the bad things he thought about Steve; there's no reason Steve should have to listen to that. But without hearing it, Steve doesn't even know what he's forgiving Wayne for. "I'll be honest with ya, Steve. It feels like you shouldn't."

Steve frowns at him. "Why?"

Why? Why? For all the reasons Eddie yelled at him, and all the things Linda said, and all the agony he's felt these last few days. The guilt and the shame that still eat at him, even as Steve Harrington says he forgives him. "It's too easy."

Those three words have Steve leaning back against the chair. His eyes dance around Wayne's face before taking in the whole of him. Or, what Steve can see of him with from across the table. When Steve meets his eye again, Wayne sees recognition there. "If you can't forgive yourself, I get that. I do. I-I've spent most of my life as one big apology. And I'm not saying that I, like, don't still feel like- what I mean to say, is that, I forgive you. I'm not, like, gonna hold it against you that you were just trying to look out for Eddie, man. Like, two years ago your fears would have been justified, so."

"Don't make it right," Wayne argues, but he doesn't know why.

"No," Steve agrees, "but I'm forgiving you anyway. You think you're the first person to hear the name Steve Harrington and assume you know everything you need to know about me already?"

Steve's words sound like they could be confrontational, but his tone is light. Teasing? Wayne says, "no. Suppose I'm not."

"Every person I love has done that," Steve says, and the ease of which he says that has Wayne feeling some sort of way. Eddie's words echo in his mind 'you made me help him feel that way'. How many other people have made him feel like he's a bad person? "Even- even Eddie. He made a point, during spring break, to, uh, well, he didn't apologize for anything because there was nothing to apologize about, but he made a point to tell me I was very 'metal' and a 'cool dude' so.... I know my name comes with, like, a shadow or a curse or whatever. I think it will for as long as I live in Hawkins, but that's," Steve flaps his hand in the air, as if that fills in for the word he can't find, and it's a move so reminiscent of Eddie. "Anyway, if you aren't actually, like, ready to accept an apology, you shouldn't be making one."

Wayne sits in that for a moment. There's a lot more to Steve Harrington than he'd ever thought. So much he doesn't know, actually, but he thinks he's okay with learning more. This boy told Eddie he was half-way in love with him earlier this week, and while Wayne never heard Eddie say it back, he knew anyway. It's why he was so protective. "You're pretty wise for your age."

Steve grins and shakes his head. "Nah, that last part was all Robin. She says it all the time to me."

"Well, then you best stop apologizing when you ain't ready to accept the forgiveness," Wayne parrots back the words.

Steve throws his head back and laughs.

They finish their coffee with silence and small talk. Steve tells him about how he never thought he'd miss his job at the video store but working at Melvald's is making him long for the days when the biggest complaint was late fees. Apparently, there's so many more things to complain about in retail.

Wayne talks about working at the plant and how the tasks are repetitive and a bit labor intensive, but the graveyard pay is worth it. Steve asks him a few more questions about working at the plant that Wayne's happy to answer and the more Steve asks, the more Wayne becomes aware that Steve might be looking for a change of occupation. He makes a mental note to put in a good word to Floyd, just in case.

Steve leaves with the promise of returning with Eddie, as soon as possible. As he was heading to the door, Wayne asked why he showed up so early.

"Eddie can't stop me if he's not awake," was Steve's answer, a mischievous grin on his face.

Wayne watches from the porch as Steve backs out. Steve shoots him one last little wave with his fingers before heading away.

He goes back inside and washes the dishes. Even dries and puts them away, a feat usually done once a week; he and Eddie have no qualms with using dishes directly from the dish drainer. His only other chore for the day is leaving for work a bit early so he has time to stop at the gas station and fill up the truck.

Grabbing the remote from its spot on the coffee table, Wayne plops onto the couch to spend his day as mindlessly as possible with some TV.

He goes to sleep at his usual time and wakes up at 7:43pm according to his alarm clock; a little over two hours before his shift is to start. It's time for more coffee, he thinks as he dresses for work before heading to the kitchen.

He jerks to a stop when he sees Eddie and Steve sitting on the couch, leaned close and talking softly. He's not about to repeat a past mistake, so he makes his presence known. "Evenin' boys."

Eddie pops up from the couch quick as lightning, taking a few steps towards Wayne before stopping. "I don't like being mad at you."

Wayne nods, "I don't much like you bein' mad at me, either. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Eddie closes the distance between them, then, and pulls Wayne into a tight hug. Wayne returns it instantly, how can he not? He hears Eddie say, softly, "it's worth an awful lot, you terrible old man."

They part, and Eddie speaks first, "but if you ever pull shit like this again, I won't be so quick to forgive."

"I won't," Wayne says, at the same time Steve says, "he won't."

Both Munsons look at Steve, who grins back at them.

"You think you know my uncle that well already, from one shared cup of coffee?" Eddie asks, sounding amused.

Steve shrugs, "no. I just, uh, plan to stick around, y'know. Kinda hoping there's no dude after me for him to be an angry dad about. I would appreciate it, though, Mr. Munson, if you'd skip the shovel talk bit of all this?"

Eddie sucks in a breath and Wayne's a bit shocked by what Steve's implied. What Steve's admitted, really, out loud in front of another person. Wayne wonders if any boy Eddie's ever liked before would have done that.

"What good's a shove talk when you've already told me you ain't goin' anywhere?" Wayne says, hoping his tone is as light and teasing as he wants it to be.

"Glad we're on the same page," Steve agrees, "but, uhh, do you want me to go? So you can have a real talk?"

"No," says Eddie.

"No," says Wayne, at the same time.

"Oh. Okay. Uh, in that case, you got anything to drink here besides coffee?"

Wayne nods and they all pile into the kitchen to get a beverage before settling in the living room. There will be time to talk later, Wayne realizes. He's going to apologize properly.

Later, though, when he'll really be ready to accept Eddie's forgiveness, because there's no doubt Eddie'll forgive him. So, he's going to sit in the living room and chat with his boys until he has to go to work.

By the time Friday comes around again, he'll be able to tell Linda she was right, everything's going to be okay one day, and maybe ask her on a date he's been putting off asking for since high school.

Done!! I hope the ending is sufficiently cheesy.

I'm so sorry if I missed you! There were a lot of people asking to be tagged haha

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @kaij-basil-lionelli88 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mugloversonly @limpingpenguin @krazyperson @acrolius @salisbury-at-the-stake @littlebookworm86 @savedbytheirmusic @wxrmland @myownworstenemyyy @thelittleclare @awkotaco24 @djohawke @wrenisflying @croatoan-like-its-hot @actualwakingnightmare @krowepoison @jamieweasley13 @yourmom-isgay @irregular-child @oldwitcheshat @abstractnaturaldisaster @wishiwasacasualfan @vinteraltus @zerokrox-blog @warlordess @stevesbipanic @steveshairspray @slowandsteddie @samsoble @waelkyring @just-a-tiny-void @saramelaniemoon @halfadoginatank @nightmareglitter @scarletyeager @hellfireone @rovia2312 @munsonslure @a-little-unsteddie @soaringornithopter @eddiethehunted @starlight-archer @dryptid @inkjette

#steddie #my fic #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne pov #was this resolved on a quicker timeline than makes sense for men in the 80s?#maybe. but i dont care because if i wanted realism i would be asking my dad about the gripes and grudges he holds against his dad #(he was a teenager in the 80s)#but i wanted soft munson family vibes so you are all welcome for that #also please know that eddies not magically over it.#it's been four days of steve pestering him and reminding him that wayne loves him and he loves wayne #sorta edited. if u see a mistake no you didnt #OH NO I FORGOT THE READ MORE IM SO SORRY. added now

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bunny-yan · 1 year

Text

King!Yandere x GN!Reader

TW: non-con, death, victim blaming, patricide, nsfw, power dynamics, slight body worship

—

The King’s lover.

A position coveted by fools that didn’t understand what it was they were asking for.

You sat, eyes lost as you stroked the royal head of your beloved king. He was a respected ruler, loved by noble and common folk alike for his infinite wisdom. He was a wise king. A kind king loved by his people for his overwhelming generosity. A king you were sure no one understood quite as well as you.

Your king had not always been your king.

He’d been a prince once, though you had always been his servant. Your father served as a butler, it was only natural that you’d follow in his footsteps, but the young prince had taken a liking to the servant and you were granted an illustrious position as the prince’s companion.

It was nice.

You got to wear casual clothes, clothes you preferred over the servant’s uniform. You were able to eat snacks that you’d only seen in passing through bakery windows. There was no point in asking your father to try it because sweets were a luxury you couldn’t afford. But the prince spoiled you with sweets.

It was more than nice.

You got to play instead of cleaning the giant rooms in the palace. You were allowed to lounge, lazily relaxing if the prince was to focus on his swordsmanship or studies, your only duties being to make sure that the prince made it to his appointments on time and you were good at that. Sure, the prince could act like a bit of a brat. He’d refuse to go to his lessons unless you promised to play with him after or personally prepared his bath or kissed him on the cheek. The prince always wanted his way, but that was only natural.

He was a prince.

The oldest son of the current king. Everyone would serve him in the future so it only made sense that he got whatever he wanted now. You were the prince’s companion. A fancy title given to a servant that was meant to make sure the prince’s every whim and desire was met.

You didn’t mind.

The prince was kind. He’d ask you to accompany him on trips to the garden, often claiming that he’d fill it with your favorite flower when he was king. You would laugh, shaking your head as you told him there was no need to do such a thing for a servant, but he was determined. He would do it. He would do anything for you.

The prince was caring. Giving so much of his attention to a servant when it was your job to serve him. He didn’t ask for much from you, only that you were in his presence most days. Sure, it was boring to sit and watch the prince during his lectures or watch him study, but anything was better than scrubbing floors and dusting vases and windows. His asking for your continued accompaniment meant that you could escape manual labor and you’d always be grateful for that.

But the prince got angry. He didn’t like it when you talked to your “other friends.” The only friend you needed was him. You were his companion. There was no need to talk to the other servants. Even if it was to get his meals, you could simply ask a maid to do it. If it meant you talking to the others, he would relieve you of that duty. You only needed to focus on being by his side and taking care of his needs. Other people didn’t matter.

The prince was stubborn. It was hard explaining why communication was a necessary part of your duties if you were going to continue to serve him. It was also obvious that your words went in one ear and out the other, the prince refusing to listen to anything you said. The conversation was over after he gave the order. He wouldn’t argue semantics.

He wouldn’t argue at all.

You didn’t expect the prince to be forceful. The prince on top of you was not the same charming prince that you had grown up with. This prince was harsh, whispering cruel, vulgar words in your ear as he ripped the buttons off of your clothes. His hands touched you despite your pleas for him to stop, to come to his senses. He claimed he was sane. Even after violating you in ways you didn’t think he could. But you wanted it, right?

Because he was a prince.

His title, his status, his future. They were all things that shined like gold to a beggarly servant like you. How dare you speak ill of the prince?

You’d tried telling your father, but his hands were tied. He served the king, so his child would serve the prince.

But you didn’t want to.

Not when the prince would take every opportunity to trap you in his room, uncaring if his rough hands caused bruises as they forced themselves into your clothes. He’d order you to cease your useless struggles and get angry if you began to cry.

He didn’t understand why you were crying. He was the prince and you were his. His things couldn’t say no, so you have to want it. You wanted it, right?

The prince got scary when you said no. He threatened to hang one member of your household for every no that came out of your mouth. There was no point in crying about it. He would comfort you until he felt better.

The prince got really scary when you tried to run away. You hid in a carriage devoid of produce, hoping to escape from the palace and find a way in to town, but the prince noticed his companion’s suspicious behavior. Knights found you before you could exit the palace’s gates and you were dragged inside to kneel before the prince’s feet. He slapped you, calling you a deceitful little whore. The prince couldn’t understand why you were so desperate to get away from him, but your betrayal had been enough for him to make good on his promise.

The prince was good at keeping his promises. He forced you to look at the dangling bodies of your family, forcing your chin up when you were in front of your father.

“This is your fault.” he whispered in your ear, kissing the side of your neck as you cried. He was rough with you that night. He didn’t care that you were still grieving, he wanted to make sure you understood who you belonged to. Forcing himself inside of you with little preparation, he growled, “You’re mine.” over and over again until you could hear his voice continue to haunt you in your dreams.

The prince was happy. His companion no longer shied away from his touch. You were so obedient and docile now. You’d listen to anything he told you to do. He liked holding you in his arms, kissing you, and seeing you next to him when he woke up in the morning. It was a little frustrating when he would have to order you to reciprocate his affections, but you were so good he didn’t really mind.

The prince’s father didn’t approve of your relationship. Anytime he saw the two of you together, he’d glare at you, making you feel small. His son didn’t understand the mood, deciding that he would hold you closer, uncaring about how others felt regarding your relationship.

The king approached you. Told you to separate yourself from his son. That he would take care of living arrangements outside of the kingdom’s jurisdiction. You didn’t care that he looked at you as if you were a nuisance. He was helping you escape!

The prince’s coronation came much sooner than you expected. Although the king had been young, they found him dead the next morning, assuming he’d passed away in his sleep. The prince attended his father’s funeral, but he didn’t look very upset. He was crowned in a ceremony directly after his father’s burial and your king gave you a smile that seemed ill-fitted considering the circumstances.

When he approached you later, you kneeled, giving your greetings to the head of the empire. He stroked your head, other hand reaching for his waist as he gave you your first order as king.

“Open your mouth.”

Your title had changed. You were the king’s lover. A concubine for the king’s pleasure until he saw fit to perform his duty and marry a queen, but you feared it was long time off from the way he worshiped your body like an obsessed madman night after night. Moaning in your ear about how beautiful you were. How precious your body was. How he’d kill anyone that thought of laying a finger on you or taking you away. You were his.

The prince kept his promise. The garden had been filled with your favorite flower. You often sat on the bench to find refuge in your luxurious prison, but he always found you. He was usually uncaring, but he became a bit more sensitive when you were here. He wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of your company, but he kept his lustful urges at bay, opting instead to sit on the bench next to you to talk or lie his head in your lap on the days he lacked rest.

Looking at the king now, you wondered where your kind prince had gone. If you’d known he would turn into someone you couldn’t recognize, someone you began to impulsively avoid, you would’ve happily worn your servants clothes. Though a part of you felt that he would’ve been just as likely to tear them off of you.

Servant or companion, you were his.

#king #yandere king #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere king x servant reader

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droserapetals · 3 months

Text

Arranged Marriage

Pairing: Naoya x (f!)reader

Synopsis: You are forced to marry the one and only Naoya Zenin, ruthless leader of the Zenin clan. You try to make an escape from you’re fate, but let’s see how far that gets you.

Content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, power dynamic, size difference, arranged marriage, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with this wackadoodle), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, body betrayal, biting, blood, praise, swearing, pet names (doll/princess/love/baby), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, reader gets hunted, reader was is a virgin, reader and Naoya are adults (obviously).

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Naoya lets out a frustrated shout as you ran, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits as he watches you with a look of pure, unhinged fury. *How dare you? You think you could get away from me that easily?* His fists clench and unclench, shaking on his wrists. *You belong to me.*

You can barely feel the rocks and sticks scratching at your legs and bare feet as you maneuver through the the foliage of the desolate forest as quickly as you can manage. You’re Trying to create as much distance from you and the angry man behind you as possible.

How did you end up like this? Well for starters, your father sold you off to the Zenin clan after being offered a hefty lump some of money. Figures, that slimy-cheap bastard.

It wasn’t long before your beauty was taken notice by the green-haired man referred to as Naoya Zenin. His eyes hooded in a predatory hunger as his gaze raked over your frame, lingering at your pillow soft lips. He would make you his. He was sure of that.

As soon as you entered the estate, you were immediately forced in a scratchy white gown, a few sizes too small, breasts almost spilling out of the heart line top, and sent to his chambers without even as much as a word of having a wedding reception beforehand. Not that you wanted that anyway.

As soon as the lords escorts walk you up to his door and knock, they begin to walk away, not wanting to stick around for what they could imagine will come about you shortly after your arrival to the lords chambers.

As soon as the men round the corner, your head whips back around to the sound of the door in front of you squeaking open slowly.

In that moment you don’t think. You run.

So here you are, running away from your so called “husband” you’ve never even properly met on your technically phrased “honeymoon night.”

You barely hear the crickets chirping from a unknown distance through the pounding of your heartbeat in your eardrums. You don’t even know where you are going, much less where you are. You were blindfolded upon arrival. The Zenin clan is very discrete on there whereabouts to avoid their rivals showing up… unannounced. Even though your odds are slim at obtaining your own freedom, you just keep on moving, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Naoya follows, moving at a frightening speed. His footsteps travel hastily through the forest, his movements swift and precise like a predator hunting down its prey. The trees rustle, the bushes crack, the leaves crinkling as he maneuvers through them.

Naoya is getting closer. He’ll find you. You are his.

The hem of your long skirt snags against a root protruding from the forest floor, and you are briefly stuck. You curse, yanking your skirt and tearing a good chunk of it in the process. You stagger forward.

Your legs are starting to cramp and you’re beginning to get light headed. Not good. You can’t remember the last full meal or glass of water you’ve had since being brought to that estate, and it seems to be catching up with you now. You stumble across a hollow log by a creek and hurry to dive in it. Trying to catch your breath as you hide. Your lungs are burning and your hands can’t stop trembling, and you can only hope that the running sounds of water flowing downstream covers the shallow gasps you are making to collect yourself.

Naoya scans the distance, his breath coming quickly and heavy. He sniffs the air. “Come out now love, I can smell your fear.” He licks his lips. “If you come to my feet now and beg to be forgiven I might consider going easy on you.” He can’t help himself from getting a little hard at the thought of you resisting his advances. As troublesome as it may be. He groans. His gaze moves to the trees and bushes, to the creek that flows nearby. “Where is she…” He whispers, his expression darkening. Every second that passes is agony for him. He’s so close to having you back in his grasp, to making you his.

You hold your breath as you hear him getting closer. Your hands covering your mouth. Then, after what feels like an eternity, it sounds like footsteps are receding. You can’t help but feel a small wave of relief wash over you. Freedom feeling more obtainable than before. You wait a second more before slowly crawling out of the log, and assessing your next move.

As you shimmy all the way out, you get on your feet. All you can hear is the quiet rustle of the leaves. The breeze blows through your hair, causing some wisps to suspend in the air briefly. The feeling could be described as calming and ethereal if not given the circumstances. Wait, weren’t there crickets chirping a second ago?

Now it’s eerily quiet.

You freeze as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You hesitantly look up and almost choke. You see a dark shadow with glowing orbs looking down on your cowering form predatorily. You can’t see but only sense the triumphant smirk they have on their face, camouflaged by the shadows.

"Found you."

You stumble back in fear at the sound of the deep growl of the voice above and try to scramble away on all fours. “No!”

Naoya leaps off the tree branch with a heavy thud and quickly grabs you, his grip tight as he pulls you back toward him effectively pinning you to the forest floor. “You’re not going anywhere.” He growls, his expression darkening. He leans over you, his scent invading your nostrils, as his lips trace down your neck to your collarbone. His breath is hot and heavy, like he’s excited.

“Don’t you think it’d be better to just give in now?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping this is all just a sick and twisted dream you can wake up from. When that doesn’t work, you try shouting. “Help! Please, someone hel- mmph!“

Naoya clamps a hand over your mouth before you can get a word out. His grip is tight, his hand large and overbearing. "No one can hear us out here," He mutters, his voice low and menacing. "Save your breath."

His hand trails down your back, down until he meets your thigh. His gaze trails down to your legs, and his mouth curls into a satisfied grin. "I’ve finally caught you. I can do whatever I want with you now."

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“All that screaming and crying… for nothing,” Naoya tsks, tone mocking as he throws you onto his soft duvet, not bothering with the dirt and grime caking your frame. Not as much so, but he is fairly disheveled himself. Some dampened strands of his emerald locks matted to his head from your guys’… “escapade” earlier, and a bead of sweat could be seen falling and disappearing behind the collar of his button-up shirt. He now makes his way over to you, crawling on the bed at all fours with eyes that are hooded in rage… and lust.

As he hovers over you, he lifts his head to give you a condescending grin. “You still ended up here with me. So much for getting away, huh?” There’s an underlying bitterness to his words. Like he’s upset you tried to leave him at all.

You look away, willing myself not to cry. *I’m stronger than that.* “I can’t be with you, Naoya. I won’t stop until I can escape here and you.” You now look up at him defiantly.

“Escape?” Naoya asks the question as though he hasn’t heard it a thousand times before. He rises from the bed, letting his eyes run across your body. “Escape…?” He leans closer to you and takes a finger and gently runs it along your collarbone. He can see the desperation in your eyes. How you struggle to keep from crying.

You try not to shiver at his touch but fail miserably. “What do you want from me. Why choose to marry me of all people?” Your lower lip quivers slightly.

His touch lingers, taking in every detail of your skin. He leans forward. His breath is hot and his eyes are predatory as he glares at you. “You of all people?” He asks the question as though you should already know the answer. His hands trail down your body, his fingers inching toward the hem of your dress, toward the fabric that hides what he wants so desperately.

You squeak in embarrassment. Pressing your legs together so he can’t reach any further. “Naoya, stop!”

“Stop?” Naoya raises an eyebrow, his expression dark. His voice is a dangerous, husky whisper. “No, I think I’ll continue.” It’s a threat, a promise.

A tear finally escapes and runs down your cheek quietly as you look up at him, a faint blush on your cheeks.

Naoya’s lips part, taking in the sight of you crying as his mouth twists into a satisfied grin. “What a pretty sight.” He says, his voice still low and threatening. He looks at the tear that trails down your cheek, taking in its beauty like a predator savoring its prey.

He leans forward to wipe away the tear, to brush his lips against your wet skin.

You hold back a moan lodged in your throat and shudder. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction that your responding to his touch. You look away from him and bite your lip defiantly.

Naoya laughs softly, his hand trailing behind your head as his fingers twine around your hair. You can almost feel his gaze, raking down your body and taking what he wants just by staring. Your attempts at defiance don’t faze him.

“Such a stubborn girl,” He whispers, his tone low and harsh. He leans forward, his lips right beside your ear. “But I’ll break you.”

You hide your whimper by scoffing lightly. You attempt to push him off of you, but to no success. He doesn’t even budge. His frame towers over yours, and you know if he wanted he could crush your windpipe single handily without a second thought. That realization makes you gulp.

Naoya’s grip tightens around your hair as you try to get away. His mouth traces your jawline as his eyes glisten in the low light. “You don’t want this?” He asks, feigning surprise. But the arousal in his eyes says otherwise.

You give up trying to push him off and a groan escapes your throat at him pulling your hair before you could contain it. “Naoya please. I’m a… virgin.” You look away again. Face getting hot and heat spreading down to the lower parts of you to your dismay.

Naoya freezes, his grip loosening as he looks at you. Your lack of experience seems to both please and intrigue him. “That can change,” Naoya mutters. His lips trail down your neck, and his hands move from your hair to your waist, gripping you firmly.

“W-what do you mean by that?” You look at him through your long lashes with a clueless doe-like expression.

Naoya grins at you. You’re so cute and you don’t even realize it. “Exactly what you *think* I mean,” He whispers, bringing you in closer. Your breath catches in your throat as he presses his body against yours. A wave of heat washes over you as you feel his hard bulge resting over your lower tummy.

It throbs at the clothed contact, causing Naoya to fling his head back and let out a low groan.

You whimper at the sight. Hating the way he has this level of control over you. You feel like a butterfly caught in a sticky web that is Naoya Zenin. Your body betrays you and relaxes a little, enough for him to take notice.

He looks back down at you pointedly. “Good girl. That’s it, relax for me.” Naoya grunts as he pulls you close to him, hand trailing to the waistband of your panties and teases the skin there. He kisses your neck and bites gently at your skin. He wants you to moan for him. To give him what he wants. To give him control. Your body betrays you, wanting him to claim you.

You keen and rub your thighs together, hoping to ease the growing ache there. You run your hands hesitantly town his torso and blush at the feeling of his hard muscles straining through the fabric.

Naoya smirks as he hears your moans. “You like this?” He asks the question as though he doesn’t know the answer. The heat he feels from you makes his heart pound. He pulls back to face you, his eyes meeting yours and his breath hot on your skin.

I bite my lip and slowly nod up at him. “Please, Naoya…”

Naoya chuckles. Your begging is pleasing. Your desperation. It’s amusing how eager you are for him. “Please…” Naoya mocks, his tone amused. “Pretty please.” He leans in so you can feel his presence. His breath is hot and his fingers trail along your thighs.

You gasp as he inches closer to your aching core. Craving his touch even more.

He finally hovers over your clothed cunt, the fabric visibly growing wetter the longer he looks at it.

He leans in till his nose nudges your puffy clit inhaling deep into your scent. Growling deep in his throat, the sound vibrating in your chest.

You try to squirm away out of embarrassment but his hands hold your hips firm, keeping you in place.

Naoya’s eyes are lazily hooded and he grins as he watches you squirm and moan. Your thighs are like putty in his hands. He’s in control. He’s the hunter and you’re his delectable prey.

You half-heartedly try to pull away a little. Lust clouding your senses and rational thinking. “We shouldn’t do this” you say, trying to regain your composure to the best of your ability.

Naoya narrows his eyes at you. Your attempt at defiance only makes him smirk. “Shouldn’t do this?” He asks, feigning surprise. “Who says we shouldn’t? You’re my wife now. This is the only way to… seal the deal.”

You gulp at his words, and before you can process what’s happening he grips both of your thighs in his rough hands, spreads them as far as they could go, and rips your panties off of you in one fluid motion. Not wasting any time, he flattens his tongue, and licks a long stripe down from your rim to your clit and back down again.

Your head falls back into the pillows as you let out a startled moan. He smirks into your heat and quickens his pace. Spitting on it to dive down and lick it all up again. Not letting any of your juices go to waste.

“You taste so good, love. I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without a pussy like this.” He groans into your crotch, sending vibrations to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips begin to buck into his mouth involuntarily, your orgasm already approaching fast. Your wines getting more high pitched indicating to Naoya that you were close.

He lets a couple seconds come and go before he halts his movements, sitting up and licking his lips all the while a feline like grin spreads over his face.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance as your orgasm slowly fades away.

He chuckles at your expression, “Maybe next time I’ll cater to your needs, but tonight, this is strictly for my own pleasure.”

His eyes grow dark as he is quick to rip off the remainder of your dress, your breasts springing free with a single bounce.

His expression gets even hungrier if that’s possible, as he takes over your fully nude frame. You try to cover yourself up but he’s quick to pin your arms over your head with a single hand.

He chides you, “Tsk tsk. Don’t get shy on me now. You’re lucky it’s your first time and I’m feeling a little generous towards my lovely wife on our wedding night. I’ll go a little gentler on you than expected.”

His long thick fingers trail over your slit and his middle finger slowly starts to push into your entrance.

You hiss in pain, tears streaming down your face freely now and he’s quick to lick them up one by one, easing his finger in more in the process.

“Shh. Just breathe. You’ll be alright, love.”

You take a couple shaky breaths in your nose and out your mouth and he begins to pull his finger back out, only to plunge it back in.

You cry out, but the more he moves and curls his finger inside of you the more it starts to feel…good. Really good.

He then adds two more fingers and makes a scissoring motion inside of you, feeling achingly sweet.

It’s not long before your skin flushes a beautiful pink and you start getting light headed, a panting mess.

For what feels like just couple more seconds, he quickly withdraws his hand and laps at his digits. Cleaning your juices off of him and the tinge of blood along with it.

You’re beginning to get into a state where you are feeling loopy and delirious. Probably from the plethora of emotions you’ve been subjected to in such a short period of time.

Naoya brings you back to earth slightly by leaning in and placing his lips on yours, letting you taste him and yourself. You greedily suck at his tongue and drag your nails through his hair. Earning you a growl from the back of his throat.

“Stop doing that or I’ll finish before I set out to complete what I’ve started.” You let go and rest your hands on his chest briefly before fisting them into the sheets below you both instead.

“Good girl, now I warmed you up good for me, but it’s still going to sting a little… so be prepared for that,” he says, eyes never leaving yours.

He makes quick work at unbuttoning his slacks, and slides down his black boxer briefs until his erection springs free. Not bothering to take the rest of his clothes off.

You feel your eyes almost bulge out of your head and you subconsciously try to wiggle out of his grasp. He was TOO big.

His grip on you tightens as he smirks cockily at your reaction. “Don’t worry darling, we’ll make it fit.”

His cock was practically dripping with pre cum, and the head an angry read throbbing to be touched. He was thick and long, the girth alone just shy from the size of your forearm.

You try to take deep breaths and relax as he brings the tip of his cock to your folds, brushing it up and down to collect some of your slick that has accumulated there. Then, you feel him nudging at your entrance.

You bite your lip hard as he slowly eases his way into your tight walls, squeezing his shaft hard already.

“So fucking tight.” He hissed through his teeth and lays down on top of you to rest his elbows on either side of your head, forcing his cock the rest of the way in.

You taste a metallic tang in your mouth and realized you drew blood from biting your lip so hard. Naoya notices and drags his tongue over the mark, soothing the cut while remaining still as he now bottoms out inside you.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. I will make sure you’re rewarded for your good behavior.”

He then slowly pulls out about half way, before easing himself back inside of you.

Your eyes screw shut at the burning sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, but then you feel a coil deep inside of you start to make its way to the surface.

It still stings, of course, but overriding that you begin to feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Naoya was keeping a close eye on your reactions this whole time, and as soon as he felt your walls fluttering around him and your hips beginning to buck against him, wanting more, he increases his pace.

He now pulls almost all the way out and slams back into you at a punishing pace. You scream at the sudden increase in pleasure and your hands fly to his hair again to claw and yank at his soft locks.

He groans lowly at your actions, and grabs your legs in one swift motion to put them over his shoulders. Arms now propped up to support the added weight with ease.

His jaw flexes in concentration not to cum prematurely, but just seeing the way your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and the drool leaving your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

This new angle was causing his swollen tip to kiss you cervix with each trust and massage your gummy walls in all the right places. You could feel yourself approaching your orgasm fast as well.

Naoya grabs your chin before you’re completely drunk off his cock, “ Look at me, love. I’m right here.” He grunts, patting your cheek rough enough to bring your attention back to him.

“Nao-ah~! I’m c-close.” You wine. You sound so desperate now. Just having tunnel vision for your impending release.

And that sets Naoya off. He’s slamming into you now at a brutal pace, not caring to make sure you could take it. He’s gripping your hips so hard now that it will for sure leave bruises in the morning.

“Oh baby, I’m close too. Come for me now. Please. I need to feel you milking me as I breed this pussy.”

You don’t catch the last part as that coil in your lower abdomen snaps and you feel the white hot pleasure of your orgasm crashing down at you with full force. You don’t know if your sobbing or blubbering or shrieking at the feeling. Maybe all three. You’ve never felt this kind of intense pleasure in your life.

Naoya isn’t that far behind, he soon reaches his own climax and sends ropes of warm gooey cum into your pussy, his pace stuttering but not stopping till he’s filling you up to the hilt in his cum.

After the pleasure subsides a bit, you are able to ground yourself a bit and take in your surroundings.

The room is lavish, dim candles flickering on the night stands between you. You are currently laying a king bed centered in a large room. Naoyas room. Clad with a dark velvet obsidian bedspread.

You look above you to see Naoya with his brows furrowed and breath fanning your face, still inside you coming down from his high as well. He then withdraws slowly from you and flops beside you on the large bed. Letting out a long sigh from his bruised lips.

You try to ignore the pooling feeling of his cum seeping out of you as curl away from him, hugging your own frame.

He doesn’t say a word, but lifts the covers out from underneath the both of you and drapes the sheets over you and himself. He then glances over to you briefly before sprawling out on his side of the bed, finding sleep soon. The bed you’ll be sharing from now on. You’re his wife now, no matter how much you didn’t want to be. He will make sure you come to know that.

#naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jjk naoya #naoya smut #naoya x you #x reader smut #jjk smut #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #jujutsu kaisen

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moon-rivr · 4 months

Note

Loving your fanfics hun

Just wanna know, will you make someday a Boss Miguel x Maid Reader? Could be awesome 👀😳

settling a debt

pairing: boss miguel o’hara x maid fem reader

contents: drug abuse (not from miguel or reader), elements of neglect, use of gun, and oral (f receiving)

author’s note: sorry this took me so long, i hope you enjoy it though :)

word count: 4.9K

While most of the girls around you grew up being the apple of their father's eye and getting spoiled beyond belief, you'd grown up in a small home in the suburbs with a drug-abusing father. Your father had been the son of a successful tech company CEO, but instead of using the money that his father had left behind to reinvest in the company, he spent it all on fueling his addiction. So while most girls around you grew up wearing the latest clothes from the mall and prancing around with every toy that showed up on the sunday night cartoon ads, you were stuck having to go to the thrift for your clothes and using a barbie doll you found at the park one night.

Despite everything that happened, you never did notice a difference enough to resent your father. Even when you managed to get a job at a shitty burger place on the outskirts of town when you were 16, the wage just enough for you to cover a majority of the bills. You tried to save up some money, just enough to cover the application fee for a couple colleges, finding it all missing just after you'd collected a bit over 400. You wanted to be pissed off at your father, especially when you saw the tossed up baggies that lingered in his room, but you couldn't deny yourself that you just longed to feel for his love and affection. You continued to let these little things slide, hoping that your father would grow to like and maybe even love having you around.

You were coming back home from work, a feeling of impending doom following you as you stepped in through the door. You found it a bit odd that the door was open but you decided not to question what your father did in his drug-induced states anymore. The aura in the room completely changed when you stepped into the house, a strong arm gripping yours and pinning you against the wall. "What the hell?" You called out, wanting some kind of answer as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. You saw your father kneeling down on the kitchen floor, a gun barrel stuck in his mouth with glossy eyes. Maybe if you would've looked a little closer while you were walking home, you would've noticed that the front door was almost ripped off the hinges.

Your attention was ripped away from your father's vulnerable state to the giant of a man stepping out of your father's bedroom, crouching his head down so he could pass through the door. You could tell that the suit he had on cost a fortune, the material perfectly tailored to fit him. The man bit into an apple calmly as he stepped closer to you, his footsteps echoing throughout the silent home. The juice from the apple dribbled down his chin before he wiped it with the back of his hand, kneeling down at your level. The aura of authority followed him everywhere that he went, the men that were holding your father staring at the man in front of you as they waited for some kind of instruction.

The expensive cologne he was wearing practically overwhelmed your senses after being used solely to the scents of burning cigarettes and the alcohol that lingered on your father's mouth every time he opened it. "How much do you know about the money your father owes me?" He asked you, bringing his thumb underneath your chin so you'd look up at him. His ruby red eyes practically glistened in the moon night the way that gems would, his brows furrowing as he waited for an answer. "I don't know what money you're talking about," you answered honestly, hoping that he would be satisfied and leave . "Bullshit!" You heard someone boom behind you, the voice coming from the man holding your dad's arms.

"Quiet. I'm the one deciding what's bullshit and what's not," the man in front of you spoke up, the room falling back into his control as the seconds passed, every movement apart from his ceased. He took a couple minutes to look at your face, carefully assessing your features as if he were a human lie detector. He seemed satisfied with what he found, given that he stood up and dusted his suit off before walking to where your father was being held. "What's this about? Twenty dollars?" You asked, trying to access the situation better before a sharp laugh interrupted you. "You think I'd be making this much of a mess for twenty bucks?" The man that was in front of you earlier retorted, throwing the apple's stem in the garbage bin before kneeling in front of your father.

"Tell her how much money you owe me," the sharp command surprised your father, the man standing above him taking the gun out of his mouth. Your father stayed silent for a couple minutes, the gun getting slapped against the side of his head after a few seconds of defiant silence. Your father looked over at you, his eyes silently pleading before he spoke up once more. "I owe him twenty grand," his answer completely surprised you, no evidence that your father was ever in possession of such money showing itself before. "Something about wanting an investment for his start up company. Though I'm sure you're not surprised that he blew all the money on cocaine," the man bending down in front of your father added, a gun coming out of his pocket as he pointed it at your father.

"Wait, wait! I have something else that you can have!" Your father announced frantically, a puddle building underneath him as he spoke. The man immediately stood up, putting some distance with your father as he stared him down in disgust. "What possibly could you have to offer me apart from the fucking shithole you live in?" The question resulted in scattered chuckles from the rest of the henchmen, your knees buckling as you watched the situation unfold. "You can have my daughter! She's even a virgin, please!" Your fathers pleads ignited a feeling of fear in you, a feeling of betrayal brewing below that. The man let out a small scoff before he turned to look at you, walking closer once more.

He held your chin in his hand as he looked at your eyes, almost like he wanted to assess something within you. "I'm not looking for a wife, But what I am looking for is someone to provide for my home services," the man spoke to you more than anything, despite the fact that it boomed across every surface it had access to. "So what you're saying is that if I go work for you, the debt my father has will slowly start to pay itself off?" Your voice came out shaky as you asked, barely able to keep eye contact with him as he stood over you. "She'll do it!" Your father announced, another smack to the head a few seconds later. "I want to hear what your answer will be. I won't kill you, just your father if you don't agree to my terms."

Silence followed as you thought about what he was telling you, making it seem like you were giving away what you knew just so you would go and work for him. "I'll do it," you responded quietly, the man in front of you helping you up to your feet. Your steps staggered slightly as he led you out of the house, henchmen following after the two of you. Before the two of you had a chance to reach the car door, it was already being opened by one of the henchmen. "It won't be so bad. You'll find that I'm a very reasonable boss," the man next to you spoke as the engine started, giving you a rundown of the things that you would be responsible for as his new maid. "I think you'll find that it's actually a pleasure to work for me. I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier. I’m Miguel, by the way."

The next day, you were rudely woken up by one of the henchmen shaking you awake. They refused to tell you where they were heading, pulling up in front of a mall a couple minutes later. "Boss gave you a three hundred dollar budget to buy yourself some work clothes," the henchman told you as the two of you walked into the mall, your eyes practically widening at the prospect of having that much money to spend on clothes. You typically didn't buy clothes unless your old sets were breaking down to the hem, usually not spending more than twenty dollars at the thrift every time it happened. "Isn't that a bit counter productive? To spend money on someone that owes him," you inquired, the henchman letting out a small scoff in response as they shook their head. "Three hundred's pocket change to the boss. Best not to question his actions, though."

You quickly realized that you had to be smart with the money assigned to you, realizing just how expensive a pair of jeans could get. You ended up walking around the mall for a bit before stumbling inside of an Old Navy, immediately drawn to the offers that were available and the convenient prices. You ended up getting a couple pairs of jeans, just enough to last you through the week and a couple blouses. Your total came out around 280, allowing for you to get one of those mall pretzels you'd heard so much about. "Do you want one?" You offered to the henchman, receiving a head shake in return. You shrugged and bought yourself the cup of pretzel pieces and a soda before leaving the mall.

You were aware of what the other maids in the house thought about Miguel, overhearing most of their conversations about how they had a desire for him to come and bend them over. But, you didn't really understand what the attraction was all about. Sure, he wasn't too bad to look at but his threatening aura completely erased every good quality that he had. You couldn't help but want to avoid making too much contact whenever you were around him, a complete contrast to the other maids who would do anything just to be in his space for a couple seconds. You were out in the basement, dusting off some art pieces before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"I can't help but think that you're avoiding me every chance that you get. Do you want to tell me why that is?" You heard Miguel's voice behind you, every syllable that he spoke melting like honey against your ears. "I'm not avoiding you," you tried to defend yourself but you could tell just by the way that Miguel looked at you that he didn't buy it. "I appreciate what you did for my father, allowing me to exchange my services for his life. But I miss having him around," you spoke up quietly, hoping that it would be enough for the night. "I know you're not exactly happy with the arrangement and I'm sorry about that. Your father and I actually used to be friends once," he told you after a while, your grip on the duster loosening slightly as he did. "What happened?"

"Your father is anything but an honorable man. He took advantage of the business that he and my father used to have together to get me to 'invest' money in him. All he cares about is when his next fix is, but if you want to continue to see things through your rose colored glasses, be my guest. There's a cord phone in my office that you can use," Miguel explained, stepping back to give you space to move. You excused yourself and headed up to his office, hesitating for a second once you approached the phone. Your fingers hovered above the keypad before eventually you typed out the number from memory, the line ringing expectantly. You weren't sure what you were expecting to get out his phone call, maybe some kind of reassurance that your father was working to get you out? An opportunity to hear how much he missed having you around?

"Hello?" The response came out groggy, his voice sounding slightly disoriented as he spoke. "Dad, it's me. How are you?" You spoke after a couple seconds, giving yourself some time to get over the initial shock that he'd even bothered to pick up. "Oh it's you. I thought it was my plug," he muttered in response, annoyance seeping through the line. "I thought you'd be happier to hear from me. Are you doing okay?" You tried to keep your optimism as you spoke, hoping that he would admit that he at the very least acknowledged how much help you were around the house. "I don't want to hear from you anymore, you're no longer my responsibility. Go ahead and grow accustomed to living without me. In a way, I'm glad that he took you away."

A small beep came as you tried to digest the information you'd been given, the phone dropping from your hands. You'd envisioned this conversation for what seemed to be a million times, drafting out what you say to your father and what you wanted him to reply to you, but now that you were on the other line, you were at a loss for words. You picked up the phone, putting it down where it belonged before stepping out of Miguel's office. You weren't expecting to find him leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. "Sorry you had to listen to that," you muttered, rubbing your neck and shifting your feet uncomfortably. "You don't need to apologize. I know that you're here against your will but if you ever need to talk about something and I'm available, feel free to come to me."

You weren't planning on taking Miguel up on his offer originally, but you found that he was pretty good at listening to whatever you had to tell him. He didn't offer his thoughts unless you asked, solely offering you the comfort of understanding and listening. "You were always too good for your father, I hope you know that. And if college is something you want to pursue, I'll see if i can help you out with that," he offered after you told him what happened with the money you'd been saving up, your eyes widening slightly. "If you keep doing these acts, I'm never going to repay the debt," you joked around, a bit of truth underneath your words. "You are a separate person from the debt that your father has towards me. I think you're more than the circumstance that you're in and I want to help you out any chance I get."

"Well I don't want you to necessarily pity me," you told him, sitting down on the leather couch he'd placed in his office. He let out a dry chuckle, sitting down next to you as he placed his hand on your thigh. You weren't expecting for his touch to ignite you, the sole touch sending waves of electricity running down your body. "Nobody said anything about pitying you. I just think you have potential to be something more than just the daughter of a pathetic drug addict," his words came out harsher than you'd expected them to, the resentment that he held towards your father showing with every word that he uttered. Despite the fact, you found some kind of comfort in the way that he spoke about you.

You leaned in instinctively, looking up into his eyes for any kind of hesitation from his part. You weren't sure what it was that made you want to kiss him, whether it was the belief that he seemed to hold out for you or whether it was the fact that you'd been thinking about how his lips would taste against yours despite the fact you tried to convince yourself otherwise. After seeing no reluctance from his part, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. His lips were inviting, a pathway to pure sin with every taste that you took. Your eyes fluttered shut as he took control of the kiss, his hand coming up to your cheek as his tongue danced with yours in a painfully slow tango. You felt like you couldn't get enough of how good he tasted, the sudden realization of the power dynamic dawning on you like a bucket of ice cold water poured over you.

You pulled away from him, flustered and awe struck as you saw his eyes flicker towards your mouth as you did. Almost like he'd been wanting for that to happen too. "I'm sorry, That won't happen again boss," you whispered, feeling the full extent of your actions as you stood up. You scurried away from his office before he had the chance to say anything else to you, unable to look him properly in the eye after. You heard a small "wait!" a couple seconds later, your feet carrying you to the opposite direction as fast as they possibly could. You knew that he could catch up to you if he really wanted to, but he didn't make any effort to do so. "Fuck fuck fuck," you muttered to yourself as a mantra once you got inside your room, wishing that you could reverse everything that'd happened.

You were embarrassed by the way that you'd jumped to him for comfort the first opportunity that you'd gotten. It was past midnight, your body shifting on the bed back and forth as you tried to fall asleep. Your mind felt like it was running at a hundred miles for minute, the embarrassment of the moment repeating in your brain over and over again. You gave up on your quest of trying to fall asleep, laying down on your back as you looked up at the ceiling. You were hoping that the white noise combined with the blank slate that you were looking at would make sleep come by faster, but your brain wouldn't allow for you to live down what happened. You eventually did end up falling asleep, though the kiss between you and him followed you into your dream state.

You distanced yourself from Miguel once more as the following days passed, though he wasn't around the house too often either way. You felt an odd sense of concern towards him when he came in at around twelve in the morning, wondering if he'd had a chance to eat all day or if he had the chance to relax. You eventually managed to push those thoughts of your head and focus on the main task at hand, preparing the house for the party that he was hosting tonight. The rest of the maids were cleaning up the house, leaving you to decorating duty since you were the youngest one there. Plus, you figured that they had a tight bond from working here for so long and preferred to work amongst themselves.

The party arrived much earlier than expected, the job of decorating the house proving to be much more difficult than you’d originally thought. You'd had trouble putting up a couple banners and streamers, receiving help from one of the older maids to get it done. The house was adorned in a lovely shade of gold and white, the party being an excuse for some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen to get the opportunity to market and expand. You'd gone to your room to get changed into a modest dress for the evening per Miguel's request to the help, finding a box on your bed once you arrived. You opened up the contents of the box, a stunning floor length gold dress inside with a pair of heels that sparkled when the light hit them just right. You hated to admit it to yourself since you didn't weren't exactly a materialistic person, but the dress fit you like a glove and looked like it was meant just for you.

"I’m glad you decided to wear my dress," you heard behind you when you stepped into the living room, spotting Miguel standing there in a black suit. The material fit around his body like it was custom made, every stitch seeming to be designed with his figure in mind. "Would've been a shame not to," you responded, hoping that you wouldn't sound as flustered as you sounded to yourself. You hadn't spoken to him since the kiss in his office and now that you were looking at him in the eye, the events from the night unfolded in your mind once more. He was about to say something else before someone else pulled him away, someone you recognized from nueva york's magazines as Peter B. Parker. Miguel didn't seem too hesitant to talk to him so you walked away, giving them the space that they needed and went to go tend to some of the guests who needed a drink refill.

You walked into the library while the rest of the maids were down in the living room attending to the guests, figuring that your presence wouldn't be missed. Your fingers ran through the shelves as you read through some of the cover pages, the covers all mesmerizing in their own way. You picked up a worn-down copy of '1984' by George Orwell, the spine of the book full of ridges and some of the pages bent in a dog-ear motion. Opening the book to a random, you were immediately greeted by Miguel's handwriting on the side as he wrote his thoughts on the page. You couldn't help but read the small tidbits that he wrote, an insightful summary of what the page had offered and a small overview of what his perspective seemed to be.

You figured he wouldn't mind that you were in here since he rarely spent time at his own home, sitting down on one of the couches he had set up near a fireplace. You opened the book back up to the first page, eyes skimming through the page as you consumed the words. You weren't sure how much time had passed by since you were in here, your only indication being the sound of a door openings. You heard footsteps shuffling around as they made their way through the library, your head snapping up to check up on who it was that came up but you were met with nothing. You shrugged to yourself, picking up the book once more and started reading where you left off.

Your eyes wandered down from the book down to where your boss was sitting, on his knees in front of you. You thought it was a bit ironic, a man with so much power being on his knees as you sat down on a chair, the scene almost making it seem like he was bowing down to you. A small shiver ran down your spine when his cold rings made contact with your skin, his hands gently moving up your legs. "Read that book to me, hermosa. I forgot how it goes," he whispered just low enough for you to hear, his face resting on your thigh. Your legs spread instinctively, a small chuckle eliciting from his throat as he kissed his way up your thigh. The cold rings that moved up and down your other leg proved to be the perfect contrast to his warm mouth, your legs already buckling from excitement.

He placed your legs on his shoulder, the heel you were wearing slightly grazing against his coat jacket. "Come on sweetheart, I asked you to read for me so do it," he cooed, gently moving his hand up and down your leg as he got closer to your clothed cunt. You felt your breathing hitch in your throat, unable to get out anything other than small whimpers as he licked a stripe against your folds. "By the time I'm done taking your panties off, I want you reading that book out loud. Do I make myself clear?" He asked, your head nodding in agreement as he hooked one of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He slid them down at a painfully slow pace, giving you enough time to get your breathing back under control.

He disliked all women, and specially the young and pretty ones. It was always the women, and above all the young ones, who were the most bigoted adherents of the Party.

You managed to get those two sentences out before your nails dug into Miguel's scalp, pushing your pelvis against his face to receive more of what he had to give you. The tongue that was running up and down your folds stopped, his eyes flickering up to yours as he gestured with his head towards the book. You let out a small huff, annoyed at how he seemed to think you could get through even just the page with his head in between your thighs. You kept reciting lines from the book to the best of your ability, your voice sounding foreign even to yourself. You sounded breathless with every word you uttered, too overtaken by bliss to even want to continue reading the book but you couldn't run the risk of having Miguel stop now.

You stopped reading for a couple seconds, his tongue flicking inside of you in precise motions as he thrusted in and out of you. "Start that page over again for me, since you can't seem to read it properly without stuttering over your own words," he spoke up, his tongue going back to its relentless rhythm. You resisted the urge to groan as he asked you to start over, already having difficulty reading through it the first time. His fingers replaced his tongue, his pointer and middle finger flicking upwards expertly to find that spongy spot inside of you. Your heels dug into his back as he continued to finger you, his tongue swirling around your clit to stimulate the bud.

"Please, I can't keep reading this," you pleaded with him, setting the book down as you found yourself growing annoyed with every orgasm he denied. He'd had his head in between your legs for what seemed to be hours now, delaying it each time after claiming that you weren't reading well enough to earn the privilege to cum. "Alright, set it down. I'll expect for you to read it some other time," he responded, his mouth enclosing around your clit after he finished speaking. You heard some voices outside of the library, only managing to make out the syllables of Miguel's name. Your eyes widened when you felt the footsteps getting closer, looking down at Miguel in a panic. "Guess you'll have to be quiet, linda. That won't be a problem for you, will it?"

You shook your head, your palm resting against your mouth as you tried to quiet down the moans he elicited from you. The only sounds that couldn't be muffled were the sounds of Miguel slurping on your pussy, enjoying every drop of your essence like a starved man. Your fingers tightened their grip around his curls, your orgasm approaching you quickly with every flick of his tongue that he took. You looked at him, eyes watering a bit at the prospect of having another orgasm ripped out away from you. "Don't look at me like that. You can cum this time," he murmured, your stomach clenching up as you felt the knot inside of you tighten up with every second that passed. He kept the same rhythm, your release coating his tongue and mouth instantly.

He pulled away from you, grabbing your panties from the side and sliding them back on with care. His mouth glistened against the pale lights in the library, his tongue running against his lips to clean himself. "What about you?" You asked him, a prominent bulge almost threatening to burst out of his pants as he stood up. He shook his head, grabbing the book you'd placed to the side before putting it on the shelves once more. "Don't worry about me. This was about you," he responded, his hand coming to the small of your back as he guided you out of the library. You were surprised when he led you to his bedroom instead of yours, the space much bigger than what it seemed to be on the outside. "If you ever want to go to the library again, don't hesitate to do so. I have a bunch of books in there and it'll do some good for someone to read them for once," he murmured as he helped you get out of the dress you were in.

Only the sound of your breathing combined with Miguel’s could be heard as you laid on his chest, his hand tracing small circles on your shoulder as your eyes started to grow heavy every second that you kept them open. “What you said about our kisses never happening again, I hope you didn’t mean it,” he spoke softly, his movements halting for a second. You felt yourself growing flustered, simply kissing his cheek in response. "Wake me up in a couple minutes. Just need to get a bit of sleep," you murmured, looking up at him as he nodded.

You found comfort in how warm his body was against yours, your head burrowed deep into his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Despite the affirmation that he gave you, he didn't wake you up. He didn't have it in him to kick you out, not when you looked so vulnerable laying down next to him. Eventually, he ended up falling asleep as well with his arms wrapped around you.

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flkwh0re · 3 months

Text

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie.

Contains smut.

Warnings: Readers age is not specified but she is of age, Homophobia, Blood, Puking (reader only does it once while crying), Abuse, Mentions of death, Breif thoughts of suicide, Religion, Use of a slur (once), Nat gaslights reader, Nat punches reader to knock her out, Blasphemy, Dubcon (Nat begins to fuck reader while she’s unconscious then reader wakes up and tries to fight it but eventually gives in), Fingering, Dumbification(-ish???)

Wc: 1,713

A/n: Please listen to Preachers Daughter by Ethel Cain to get the whole ideal feeling of this fic. As a woman who grew up in the south and the church, this album hits really well. Also inspired by the song ‘The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie’ By Colter Wall!

——————————⧗ᗢ——————————

It started off with your father finding out from the woman you trusted most, Carol Danvers. How could she rat you out like that to your father like that? She was your best friend, the only person who knew about your secret.

No one close to you expected you to be a lesbian, even if they called you a fag or said the way you dressed was weird, the way you acted.

He had come home in a fit rage, busting the front door down. You were sure it came off the hinges. Before you knew it, you were backed into the corner, body aching from the blows you had taken, your throat hoarse from the shouting.

You finally found the courage to run and lock yourself in your room, quickly packing a backpack. Throwing in some clothes, shoes, items dear to you, essentials, and a book.

You unfastened the window, punching through the window screen. You hiked your leg out the window and dropped down. To your dismay, your father saw you.

He bolted out the door, and you quickly jumped onto your bike. pedaling as hard as you could, trying to escape the man you feared more than God.

Your dad hadn’t always been like this, he was always more understanding. When your mother died though, he changed. He began to drink and become terribly abusive. His narcissistic behavior only worsened when he ‘strengthened his faith.’

Your breathing became uneven and ragged, exhaustion consuming your overwhelmed body. You finally gave out running off the side of the road, you slid down a hill, bumping into every rock possibly.

Once you were able to stand, blood dripped down your legs and arms. Small amounts also trickled down your face, along with sweat. Dirt and grime coated your body thickly.

You took off to a bridge you saw, climbing up under it, hoping to hide there for a few hours. You heard the loud thuds of your father's footsteps, your heart pounding with each step. He discovered your slightly mangled bike against a tree, and once he realized you were gone, he cried. You’d not heard him cry since your mother's funeral, it almost made you come out of hiding. You knew his sorrow wouldn’t last, the moment it dispersed he’d be the same man as always.

Your father had finally given up his search for you, not like he cared much anyway. His daughter was ‘one of them queers’ as he’d say. He couldn’t stand people like that, but you were his daughter. He needed to find you, he needed to help you. He knew a woman, Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was the pastor of the local church. She hadn’t been preaching there for a while, but in her short time she’s ‘helped’ so many young men and women. Now of course her time was spent more catered towards teenagers, but she would be more than willing to help you.

Once night settled in, darkness clouded your eyes. You knew your father wouldn’t get anyone out to look for you, so you figured you’d move at night. You had to get away, and fast.

You stepped onto the main road, your small flashlight in hand that barely worked. The thick mid-June air made sweat slick your body as you walked along the gravel road. No one to your knowledge loved this way, or so you thought.

You followed the small road for what felt like an eternity, your thin tank top clung thickly to your skin. Your overheated weary body fell to the ground, you slumped over laying on your side. Salty hot tears spilled down your face. Thoughts of hatred filled your mind.

How could you disappoint your father like this? How could you betray god like this? a you felt disgusted, so disgusted that as your tears ran you began to heave. Thick bile spilled from your mouth.

If only you could just stop it all, end all your suffering right now. You wouldn’t even hesitate.

You had laid in the spot for what felt like hours, wishing some animal would find you. What found you was even worse.

The sound of a car engine, and squeaky breaks stirred you. Bright headlights blinded you. You wanted to run, you figured now someone had found you and would return you to your father.

The soft crunches of gravel echoed in your ears; a figure approached you. They leaned down and you got a good look at her face. Natasha Romanoff.

“Hey sweetheart, what in the world are you doing out here? What’s happened to ya? Oh my goodness, you’re all bloody laying in a mess of vomit. Let me get you to my house” As she tried to help you to her car you kicked and squirmed.

Loud cries of no came from you, and Natasha was beginning to become impatient. As you thrashed your body around, trying to escape the woman who would bring you to your doom, you speared blood on her spotless suit. She finally had it with you, her fist struck a heavy blow across your face. Your mind went foggy and your eyes dizzy, eventually you lost consciousness.

“If you would’ve just cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to do that.” Natasha said through gritted teeth. She picked up your limp body and carried you to her truck, softly placing you in the seats next to her.

She drove down the road until she reached another small road, turning down it. No one knew about her second life, her home hidden away in the woods. She wasn’t who everyone thought she was. In fact, she was what everyone deemed evil.

She pulled up next to a small trailer house and stepped out of her truck. Natasha stepped around to the other side, pulled you into her arms carrying you bridle style into the house. She brought you to a broken-down couch that reeked of cigarettes.

Natasha walked off to her small room to change out of her dirty, bloodied clothes. She trudged to small refrigerator to grab a beer, cracking it open and taking a big drink.

As she made her way to the couch where you were, an idea popped in her head. She peeled your tank top off your body, revealing your bra. She examined your chest and stomach, dried blood and dirt smeared on your delicate skin.

Natasha unclipped your bra, slipping it off your arms throwing it off. Her hands grope at the soft flesh of your chest. She kneels down, so she can get closer to your breast. Her mouth latches onto your nipple, licking and sucking.

You began to finally regain consciousness, once you realized what was happening your eyes shot open. “No stop! Get off of me!” You shouted, trying to wrestle the older woman off you. She grabbed your wrist in her hand, pinned them onto the arm rest of the couch.

“No baby, you need me. See.” She slipped her hand into your shirt, gathering your slick on her fingers. She removed them and showed you her fingers wet with your arousal, “See baby, now be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Her hands unbuttoned your shorts and slipped back into your panties. Her rough fingers rubbed at your clit, then she slipped two into your dripping cunt.

A loud cry and moan left your mouth, tears spilled from your eyes. “See baby, it feels so good doesn’t it. Tell me it feels good.” She rasped as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. You weakly nod your head, but Natasha wasn’t satisfied. “No, I want words. I want to hear you say it feels good.”

“Fuck! I-it feels good Natasha.” She chuckled, “Such a dirty mouth.” She curled her fingers up into the right spot, your legs trembled and your back arched up into her. “Fuck ‘m goin’ to cum!” You moaned out, as your juices gushed onto Natasha’s fingers.

She slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking off your slick and moaning around her digits at your taste. “Fuck baby, you taste so good. I wanna taste you from the source, but we can do that another time. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she helped you stand. You laid your head on her shoulder as she walked you to the bathroom. She readied the water as you slipped yourself out of your shorts. You couldn’t believe you were giving into her; she was so tempting you couldn’t even fathom saying no to her. Like a presence luring you in, like the devil themself.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about pretty girl?” She asked you. “Nothin’.. thank you thought. For this, it’s real kind of you.” She smiled, “Oh it’s nothin’ darlin’, it’s my job.”

You slipped into the warm water, and Natasha began to scrub the dirt off you. She’d give you the occasional kiss on your face, she just couldn’t help it. She’d had her eye on you for a while, she got pretty lucky tonight.

“I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.” She spoke up, “What?” You questioned her, how would she know? “Your father already spoke to me, but don’t worry. Stay here with me, let me take care of you. I won’t say a word to him.” You nodded, “Okay, promise?” She grinned, “I promise.” She placed as soft kiss of your head, then pulled the plug.

Natasha wrapped the towel around your body and took you to her room. “Here why don’t you put these on, and I’ll grab you a sandwich. Is peanut butter okay?” You smiled and nodded.

Once you had put the clothes on she gave you, Natasha had returned with a bottle of water and the sandwich. “Eat this then we can go to bed, I bet you’re exhausted.” She said as she got into bed, motioning for you to join her. “I am.”

You finished eating, and snuggled up with Nat. She hummed you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to you. She placed a kiss on your scalp and spoke soft words, “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

You felt safe with Natasha, you still weren’t sure what changed in you. You knew you could finally be comfortable with your life though.

Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x you #natasha fanfic #natahsa romanoff #natasha #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #nat x reader

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casiia · 3 months

Text

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; cooties.

warnings .: x reader, dad simon, afab ! reader, soso much fluff, unedited.

.: masterlist.

imagine simon’s daughter coming home with tears just running down her face, you’re trailing in behind and trying your best to hide your laugh as you console her.

“it’s just a myth, dear.”

but that only makes her cry harder, because she’s 7 and doesn’t know what the fuck a myth is. who is she supposed to believe…her loving mother who raised her and has never lied to her a day in her life, or the girl she’d met just an hour ago on the playground.

“it’s true!” she gasps out, wiping her wet cheeks with her palms, dramatically dragging her hands down her face as another sob wracked her tiny body.

you could only snicker silently as you brushed away baby hairs that clung to her cheeks. frankly, you didn’t know what to say; you’d tried everything to help your daughter and ease her of this new world ending conflict.

simon’s on immediate alert, normally he’s welcomed home with kisses and hugs and bottomless babbles about pointless things. hearing his baby’s loud cry followed by her quick and urgent footsteps makes him panic and his mind instantly goes to the worst.

hurriedly, simon makes his way down the stairs nearly breaking his neck when he trips over a stray toy — but he manages to grab the banister before falling to his death and peaks into the living room.

you’re sitting on the couch with her cradled in your arms, a tender and gentle shush whispered off of your lips as you untangle knots in her hair. your attempts to calm her down don’t, she’s as stubborn as her father, if not more.

“what’s going on, sweet pea?” simon asks, treading carefully as he inches closer to you, his eyes clouded with a mix of worry and question.

before he can sit down, the girl in your arms shrieks so loud he can hear it ringing in his temple. wincing at the loud intrusion, simon watches as his daughter shoots from your arms all the way across the living room, her back pressed to the wall and eyes wide with what seems to be horror.

now simon’s afraid, is there something on his face? did he forget to shave? is he even simon?

you only snort behind your palm, furrowing your eyebrows and returning back to your playful yet serious expression. “go on, babygirl. tell dad what she said.”

his heart is hammering in his chest now, what did she say — who are you talking about?

and he doesn’t know if that scream altered him deaf but all he can see is her lips moving. the sound of your quiet giggles calms him though, and you have to ask her to say it again.

“she said boys have cootie!” she screams, looking horrified — looking at her dad as if he’d grown a third head and eaten all of her halloween candy.

simon begins to open his mouth to say something, something along the lines of “who fuckin’ told ya that.” although the more he thinks it over he’s compelled to play into the roll. he pauses for a moment, concentrated on weighing out the pros and cons.

on one hand, it breaks his heart to see his girl avoiding him like this. going to the edge of the earth just to distance herself from him. crying out because her world is shattered, her dad? having cooties? what nonsense.

on the other hand. simon’s been hearing about this ‘jack’ boy that she’s been in love with on the playground, he even proposed to her with a fucking stick. his daughter can do better than that. and hell, she’s too young to be dating, she doesn’t even know her alphabet!

so with some quick thinking a small smile paints his lips, he opens his arms and watches as she hesitantly takes a step forward. his heart leaps at that, she’s willing to catch a fake disease of cooties just for a daily hug from her father.

“boys do have cooties, but not me, see this?” he reaches inside of his shirt and pulls out the dog tag that hangs around his neck, he gives it a nice tug and smiles a bit. “it’s cootie-repellent.”

another step, hesitant but slowly the small girl is inching away from the wall and closer to the awaiting arms of her dad. “r-really?” she asks, a hiccup following her shaky breath as she calms down.

simon only nods, he’s grateful that your daughter isn’t one to question much. a hard believer in anything she hears, to this day she still believes that fairy’s live in the freezer. he’s not sure what story he would make up if she began questioning him, maybe something with fairies. they were always his go to.

“y’want it?” simon begins to take the necklace off, holding it out to her. shes just an arms reach away, but she’s curious.

“yes.” she mumbles, her heartbroken expression from moments ago turning into that beaming smile that warms simon’s chest. “i’ll give it to jack!”

simon stills. fuck. no way was he going to lose his girl this soon. “nuh uh.” he laughs, quickly tucking the chain back under his shirt and pulling his daughter into his chest.

you watch as he ruffles her hair, her muffled screams falling onto deaf ears as she squirms and punches her dad, begging for him to let go. simon only tightens his arms around the flailing girl, peppering kisses all over tear stained face, watching her once glossy eyes crinkle with joy at her dad’s affection.

thank god for cooties.

#[ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. ]#do 7 year olds know the alphabet #?!??!?!#silly lil thing i wrote at 5am #( 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ )#simon riley x reader #simon riley #dad simon #cod #call of duty

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months

Text

BTS Reaction || You Get Into An Accident After A Fight [Mafia Edition]

⤜MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN:

Jin knew that letting you walk out of that door was a mistake this morning, he should have forced you to stay in even though you were mad at him and then none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have found himself rushing to the hospital to make sure his girlfriend was okay and he wouldn't find himself asking some of his men to kill the bastard that had slammed into your car.

"Where is she? Is she okay!?" The colour was completely drained from Jin's face as he stared at Yoongi, one of the most trusted men in his whole family.

"Hyung, she's okay. She's in here," Yoongi pointed to the room behind him but Jin only looked through the small window of the door to look at you and he swallowed the lump in his throat. If it wasn't for him you wouldn't be in this mess right now, instead, you'd be at home where it was safe and you wouldn't look like you'd done about ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

"She's just a little sore from the impact," Yoongi explained, there'd been no broken bones or cracked heads but it still hurt you a lot to get hit by a car. Luckily for you, Yoongi had been following close behind to make sure you were okay after the fight you'd gotten into with Jin. Jin turned around ready to walk away, he wasn't going to be able to face you when he thought all of his was your fault, for now he was going to go home and prep the house for you,

"Okay...Good, I'll go home and make sure-" He was cut short by the sound of a door creaking and padded footsteps on the floor,

"Jin?" Your voice came out frail and shaky making him spin around instantly. You were standing there in a hospital gown shivering a little, he grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders not wanting you to get cold.

"What are you doing? You should be in bed." He lightly scolded trying to urge you back into the room but you didn't budge. After your accident all you could think about was Jin and how you didn't want to fight with him anymore, you couldn't even remember what the two of you had fought for,

"I heard you and I wanted t-to see you." You smiled weakly and it looked so wrong, you were supposed to beam with a smile when you saw one another,

"Go back to bed, I'm going home to make sure-"

"Stay...Please," You begged, reaching for his hands and pulling him into the room as he nodded at you, if you wanted the moon Jin would somehow obtain the rights to it and give it to you. You got whatever you wanted when it came to him,

"Sure baby, whatever you want." He whispered, wrapping an arm around your waist and carefully leading you back into the hospital room and helping you into the bed.

YOONGI:

You couldn't remember what happened, all you could remember was getting into an argument with Yoongi and now you were waking up to the smell of bleach and a really annoying beeping sound to the right side of your head making you groan a little.

"I don't care who he is or who his father is, I said kill. him." Yoongi's voice seethed and you squeezed your eyes a little, opening them and looking over in the direction of where his voice had come from. Yoongi sat there in the chair looking as though he hadn't slept in days, his hair was a mess and he was still in the suit he'd worn when you got into a fight.

"Who are you killing?" You coughed out, making him jump a little.

"The doctor said you'd be out a little longer, I need to call-" He went to reach for the nurse button but you stopped him and shook your head.

"Don't, I wanna sit with you a little longer. No doctors." You whined, attempting to sit up but hissing when your left hand caused you pain.

"It's broken," Yoongi explained, as he hooked his hands under your armpits and carefully helped you sit up in the bed, you stared at him and smiled sadly.

"You want to sit in bed with me?" You made room on the bed but Yoongi shook his head at you,

"I shouldn't, they said you need to rest." You were a little taken aback by it, Yoongi never listened to anyone when they told him what to do and why should he? He was one of the most powerful men in Seoul,

"Since when did the great Min Yoongi ever listen to anyone else?" You teased a little but Yoongi shook his head at you,

"Since he saw how broken you looked when he got here,"

"I'm fine. Please? I just...I need you to hold me." You pleaded with him and you could see the cogs working inside of his brain before he nodded and carefully got onto the bed with you.

"I hired the best of the best, I also found the scumbag that jumped you," Yoongi explained as you rested your head on his shoulder, half listening to him and half trying not to fall asleep on him.

"His dad is some politician but I don't care. It doesn't give him the right to just-" Yoongi's voice trailed off when he heard soft snoring coming from you and he chuckled a little, kissing the top of your head.

"Goodnight, angel." He whispered before reaching for his phone to make sure everything was being taken care of.

HOSEOK:

"I don't care who you think you are, that's my girlfriend and if you try and stop me again, I'll have you killed!" Hoseok yelled at the police officer who was stopping him from coming onto the scene, your heart thumped as you looked at him. When Hoseok had gotten your call he dropped everything and came speeding to where you said you'd been,

"Hobi!" You yelled before rushing away from the paramedic who'd been making sure you were okay for what felt like an hour now. As soon as the accident happened you called Hoseok, you didn't tell him anything you just told him where you were before hanging up the phone. You'd been so scared and he was the only person you thought about after the car had crashed, it didn't matter that the two of you were fighting all you cared about was seeing him again.

"Where did you go? You said you were going to your sisters but she said you never showed up and then I called around and-" He stopped when he saw the cut above your eye and that your lip was busted up pretty badly.

"I was on my way when the taxi I was in-" You didn't even know what happened, one second you were on the road and the next you were on your side and the car was smashed to bits.

"Was it the driver's fault?" He was seething with anger, ready to kill anyone that had somehow been the cause of the accident but you whimpered,

"No, someone ran a red." You explained, grabbing onto your boyfriend's shirt to stop him from going after the old man who had been driving the taxi. Hoseok's eyes softened as he looked down at you, his anger melting away once he saw that you were okay for the most part,

"I'm clear, can you take me home?" You questioned, looking over at the ambulance team who had cleared you a while ago now,

"Home? Our Home or-"

"Our Home, I don't care about our fight anymore." You whispered, linking your hand with his and pulling him toward the direction of the crowd of people that had gathered after the accident had happened.

NAMJOON:

"She's got two broken ribs, and a broken leg and she'll be in and out of sleep for a while," Someone explained as you groaned a little, opening your eyes and looking over the room you were in. Everything was white and smelt of bleach and you sighed a little, you knew you must have been in a hospital and after the way you'd flown down the staircase you knew whoever the doctor was talking about was you.

"How long until I can take her home?" Namjoon? Namjoon was here? You thought for sure he would have left you to rot after the way you'd been screaming at him during your fight.

The two of you had gotten into a huge argument about god knows what now, it didn't matter anymore, but you'd just started a screaming match with him letting all of your anger out on him and he just stood there and took it.

"I'd say after tonight, we want to monitor her a little while longer and then she's all yours Mr Kim. I'll have a nurse bring by a cot for you," The door shut and you stared at Namjoon who was making his way back over to you with a small smile on his face.

"Hey, I ordered food but if you're not hungry I can get you something warm to drink." He whispered as he sat on the chair beside your bed and carefully took your hand in his.

"You're staying?" You whispered in shock, you thought for sure he would have left after the doctor did.

"Where else would I go, baby?" There was a small chuckle behind his voice and tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of him staying after everything that had happened.

"But I was awful...I-I screamed at you, and I yelled and I just-"

"Baby, I almost lost you after you walked off. You think one silly little fight is going to push me away?" He scoffed at you, he wouldn't have gotten where he was in life now if he walked away at the first sign of trouble.

"I don't know." You whispered as he squeezed your hand a little,

"You'll have to do a lot more than scream at me to make me walk away, love. I love you." He whispered, placing a small and gentle kiss on our hand.

"I love you too," You whispered back, your eyes getting heavier the longer you kept them open before you finally fell back to sleep holding Namjoon's hand.

JIMIN:

When Jimin got a call from your personal bodyguard saying you'd been in an accident he flew to the scene. He didn't care that the two of you were in a fight and that you hadn't spoken to him in a few days he was coming to see that you were okay since your guard - Koyla - hadn't given him much information on what happened.

"Jimin," You shivered, your teeth chattering as you sat inside of the ambulance. They'd wrapped you in a silver blanket and were trying to naturally bring your temperature back up to normal before they took you into the hospital.

"What happened? Did you fall into the lake?" He questioned as he stared down at you, his hands resting on your cheeks and you cuddled into his touch missing the way he held you.

"Someone pushed me, I wasn't looking and all of a sudden I was in the water." Which wasn't good since it was the middle of winter and below-freezing outside, Jimin instantly began spouting out orders to his men who were with him to find out who had done this and to bring them directly to him and the paramedics looked worried as they added another blanket to you.

"How did you find me?" Your phone was trashed after being thrown into the water and you hadn't told the paramedics your name yet so you doubt they'd been the ones to call you.

"Your guard told me you'd gotten into an accident," You both turned to face Koyla who stared at anything but the two of you, he'd been wanting the two of you to make up for a while now and now it was finally happening but you had no idea he was with you since he'd been the reason for your fight with Jimin in the first place. You'd told him you didn't need a guard to babysit you all of the time but it turned out you might have been wrong since if it wasn't for Koyla you probably would have been freezing at the side of the road.

"You were right...I-I do need him," You shivered before Jimin wrapped himself around you, he didn't care about that right now all he cared about was making sure you were okay.

"Let's go to the hospital and get you sorted," He whispered as the paramedics rushed to the front of the ambulance putting on the siren despite there being no emergency rush.

TAEHYUNG:

After Taehyung had stood you up on yet another date you'd walked home in the dark, declining the need for his chauffeured car that had been sent for you and heading to your friend's place. Only that had proven to be a massive mistake when you'd gotten hit by a car that had swerved onto the road.

"Where is she?!" Taehyung's voice carried over the mass of reporters and police that were on the scene and you cringed a little, you knew if Taehyung found out about the driver he'd end up having him killed which was why you'd neglected to call him.

"Yn? What happened?" You ignored him and turned to look down at your arm which was covered in tiny cuts and scrapes from where you'd hit the floor.

"Nothing, I'm fine," You grumbled at him, still pissed he'd stood you up on your date and started a fight with you over the phone about it.

"What happened?" Taehyung turned his attention to the paramedic who was cleaning up the cuts on your arms,

"A car hit her on the path, but he's been arrested already but another ambulance has taken him to the hospital." The paramedic's voice shook meaning he knew who Taehyung was and who didn't? He was huge in Seoul which meant everyone who was watching the scene was waiting for Taehyung to do something out of pocket which was what he was known for.

"I'll take care of him my own way." He grumbled but you grabbed onto his wrist before he could move away from you and you glared up at him.

"He's old, you won't touch him. It was an accident, he had a fucking heart attack at the wheel." You explained watching as Taehyung's mood changed and he slowly nodded his head.

"You'll take me home, you'll make it up to me for standing me up and yelling at me over the phone and we will go to bed." You told him plainly as he nodded once again, there was only one person in the world who told him what to do and it was you. No one else had the right or they'd more than likely get shot in the face for trying.

"Okay baby, I'll get the car." He whispered before kissing you softly and rushing off to grab his car.

JUNGKOOK:

It had been a week of radio silence from you, a week of Jungkook having no idea where you were or if you were okay and he'd finally found you in a hospital in a completely different city. The hospital had no idea who you were, only that you were a mugging victim who had been badly injured after a stabbing.

"She'll be okay, she's been in and out of it lately but not enough to tell us who she is." The doctor explained as Jungkook took in the sight of you, his heart breaking as he made his way closer to you. If it wasn't for him you wouldn't be in this mess right now but the two of you had gotten into an argument over him working too much and you'd walked out. You'd not taken your phone and you just went without explanation.

"Thanks, I'll sit with her if you don't mind." He told the doctor before sitting own and taking your hand in his softly.

"Fuck, this is my fault. If I'd just listened instead of yelling," He groaned to you, mumbling away to himself as he continued to beat himself up for letting this happen to you.

"You know, I dreamt this was going to happen, only you were dressed in a hot dog costume," Your voice was like music to his ears as he lifted his head to see you staring at him.

"Should I go and buy a costume? I'm sure I can make the dream happen." He teased as he rang for the nurse to come in.

"Nah, this is way better." Your voice was groggy from being out for so long but you squeezed Jungkook's hand and stared at him, tears rushing to your eyes.

"Please don't leave me...I'm sorry we fought,"

"Don't, it's my fault. I'm sorry," He whined out before kissing away the tears that were now free-falling down your face.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @swga-ficrecs @niktwazny303 @armystay89 @myyouthdonut @xakx @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @elissasimp

#bts #bts x reader #bts reaction #bts reactions #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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millylotus · 9 months

Text

Secret Son John Constantine

Inspired by @herbatahleb's funny little fanart

As the title says The Everlasting Trio have a child and his name is John “Hellblazer” Constantine

He’s making his parents proud

John was born of a kind of soul blood pact between the three, he got his blonde hair from Sam, his eyes from Tucker, and his overall appearance is a mix of the three of them

John grew up to follow in Tucker & Sam’s footsteps of magic, he’s a born sorcerer unlike them though

His relationship with his parents is generally good, but because of how he treats his soul his relationship with Danny has deteriorated

They argue about this alot, John’s soul is his own and what he does with it really isn’t any of Danny’s business, Danny has the concerned parent vibes of the parent of a sex worker, their fears are founded but they need to trust their kid to know how to take care of themselves

John hates visiting home because of it, Dani will sometimes drag him back home for holidays but he doesn’t stay long

Sam & Tucker try to get them to get along but it isn’t really working

Then one day Danny gets accidentally summoned by the Justice League

---

John doesn’t recognize the summoning circle as it buzzes to life, he doesn’t know what type of creature or being will pop out. If they’re good or bad, or even merciful but he knows they’re strong from the intricate design or the circle. So he recklessly jumps forward, pushing Hal out of the binding circle so the Lantern isn’t bound to the summoned being.

John takes the binding with a scream of pain, feeling electricity shoot up his spine.

He can hear the Leaguers shouting his name, he’s vaguely aware of Jordan supporting him. But what he hears clearest was the voice of a man he most despised in the world at the moment.

“Really John? You didn’t have to do that, he would have been fine.”

John closes his eyes tight and breaths deep, he looks up to the voice and looks into the toxic green eyes as they met his own brown ones.

“Good to see you too Father.”

The green eyed being rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yes, hello Son. It’s great to see you again as well.”

The League had only heard a few things about John Constantine’s family. They knew he had three parents who’re polyamouros, that he has an older sister and an aunt. Besides that all they have are silent grumblings about “Father won’t like this” when he does something risky.

But to see a young filipino man probably no older than twenty, floating over John “Hellblazer” Constantine and looking down on him like a disappointed parent. It was jarring.

Wonder Woman was the first to say anything “John, could you perhaps explain what just happened?”

John and his father broke their intense eye contact to look at Diana, who barely flinched at the sudden attention, the others behind her weren’t so fearless.

Constantine sighed carefully stepping away from Hal, “This is my Father.”

Hal snorted, “Yeah we got that man.”

“Yes John, introduce me to your friends here.”

---

Danny is generally snarky when meeting the League, he makes some weird comments about John hanging out with superheroes, that could be construed as rude

The others are kinda pestering John about who his dad even is, while John is more focused on getting the fucking bind removed

He eventually has to ask Zatanna for help

Danny for the most part is hanging out with the League while John’s working

Someone calls him Mr.Constantine and Danny quickly corrects them saying that isn’t his last name

Which sparks a whole conversation of John’s last name, which Danny isn’t about to say cause real names have power and such

Danny sees John working closely with Zatanna and asks if he’s with her or not, John is beyond embarrassed and even worse is when Danny brings up King Shark, mentioning that Dani really liked him too

John snarks back that then King Shark should have just gone for her instead of him since Danny was so adamant about King Shark being such a great son-in-law

Things get awkward quick as the two snark back at each other while everyone else realizes where John gets it from

It almost becomes a screaming match before the League has to break it up before they go to far

John ends up just calling Sam & Tucker so they can just break the binding

It’s a tense few minutes before they get there, and the League just kinda has to sit there as father & son fume not looking at each other

When Tucker & Sam get there they see the two not wanting to talk to each other at all

Leaguers are not reeling at seeing John’s other parents who he also vaguely looks like but also not

As the two work on the binding John & Danny are being passive aggressive

The two decide that John & Danny need to spend some time together to get this shit figured out

---

Sam : Alright that’s it *Sam & Tucker stop working, Sam has her head in her hands and Tucker is leaning far back* Danny : What? John : I’m sorry? Tucker : You two have been fighting for far to long, you’ve probably forgotten why Danny : I know exactly why, it’s because John doesn’t know how to treat his soul right! John : By The Ancients! You’re still on about that Danny : Of course! Sam : Will you both just SHUT UP! *Silence* Sam : We’re not breaking the binding, you two are going to stay stuck together Danny : Sammy! John : Mama, Papa. Please don’t do this! Tucker : Nuh-uh, this happening, you two are getting a some father-son bonding time for the week! John *distressed*: Why! You can’t just– it’s not fair! *Sam & Tucker loosen up a bit, looking to John softly* Sam : Baby it’s alright, we’re not trying to punish you we just want you & your father to actually talk things through Danny : It feels like your punishing me Tucker : You are his father, you will be the civil one in this so don’t you fucking dare get any lip *Danny goes silent* Sam *sigh* : We’ll be leaving now Tucker : Good look you two The two leave, then silence Danny : Do you still have that demon house of yours? John *sigh* : Yeah I’ll show you a room for your stay

---

Most of the story is really just about John & Danny learning to get along again

Danny has to finally trust his kid to know what he’s doing with his own body

And John realising that his dad just wants to keep him safe & stuff

By the end of their basically grounding the two have begun to mend their relationship, Danny promises to come over and visit along with inviting John back home to the zone when he feels like

I've been meaning to post this for awhile now & it's just been sitting in my drafts until I finally remembered it.

Hope you liked is! :]

Main Story Index [It's kinda messy but it's got links to most everything]

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #john constantine #background everlasting trio #millywrites

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planet-marz1 · 5 months

Text

Our Little Sheep

Summary: You and Joel celebrate christmas with your many children Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Word Count: ~4.1k

Tags/Warnings:18+MDNI no use of y/n, implied age gap(not specified), reader is able to get pregnant, jackson!joel, peepaw!joel(really peepaw), mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of childbirth (nothing graphic), brief mentions of breastfeeding (again, nothing graphic) Lots of fluff & cuteness, Joel being a cute girl dad™, this seems like it should be a crackfic, but I promise It's so wholesome

A/N: Ok so this fic idea was born out of my cold medicine induced haze, so bear with me here guys. It's just a silly little fic, not meant to be taken seriously at all, and It's the most fun I've had writing in a bit, so I hope you enjoy reading! Just a little clarity here, the kids' ages range from 0 to 9. I know it gets all confusing here, so I am welcome to provide any further clarity if anyone needs it! A huge thank you to @catchallfangirl for helping with the naming of all of these gremlins & with the constant encouragement ❤️ Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading!

lovely dividers by @pamasaur

| main masterlist | ao3 link | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

You open your eyes slightly, squinting them. Joel sleeps peacefully next to you, his breaths even and steady. Burrowing yourself further under the blankets, you scoot closer to him, your head on his chest and intertwining your legs with his. You run your fingers through the curls of his now, fully gray hair.

Slight whines start to fill the room, and you lift your head up and glance over your shoulder to peek into the bassinet next to your side of the bed. Joel had been up with the baby all night after you two had finished wrapping up the gifts for the other kids. So, you groggily sit up in bed, reaching over to pick up the tiny little infant.

“Shhh, It’s alright, little one.” You whisper quietly, trying to calm him. After a few attempts to shush him, it’s still not working. He’s probably hungry, you figure. Lifting your shirt, you help him latch onto your breast, and he finally calms. You sigh quietly with relief. It’s all a part of the process, you try to remind yourself. Little baby Joelseph had only been born a few weeks ago. No, his name isn’t actually Joelseph. Simply a nickname given to him by his many older sisters when you had been pregnant with him. It started as a cute joke, but sure enough he came into the world, and no one was able to call him by his proper name. Named after his father, but considering the chaos of your family, the nickname is simply just another thing that you don’t bother to fight to keep the peace in the house.

The early hours of the morning are usually the small period of time when the house is completely silent. Every other waking minute is filled with the sounds of the kids, either giggling, or fighting with each other over something. Though, silence isn’t always a good thing. You’ll never forget the time the kids got into the kitchen cupboards and practically wreaked havoc in the kitchen while you were outside tending to the sheep.

Sure enough, you hear the trampling of footsteps coming down the hallway. No matter how chaotic it may be, this is your favorite part of the day. Getting to start each day greeted by all of your beautiful children, reminding you of why you are so lucky. You softly graze your fingers over the baby’s hair.

“I think your sisters are here, little guy,” You chuckle softly. The doorknob jiggles a bit. Before all of your daughters begin to spill into your bedroom, all eleven of them. Yes, eleven. You and Joel had, admittedly, gotten out of control in that department.

You and Joel had met when he had returned to Jackson in the spring with Ellie in tow. It had been an immediate connection, quite literally. Hooking up one night in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison, which is what led to your firstborn, Emilie. The pregnancy had come as a shock, but you and Joel were excited nonetheless.

A chorus of variations of “Mom,” or “Mommy,” begin to fill the room, and you try to shush the girls, reminding them of their little brother. “Ok, girls, I know that you’re excited to get downstairs to all of your gifts, but you’ve got to settle down a bit, alright?” You whisper gently. Finally, they all nod in understanding. The calm is short-lived, though. Jane and Jules, the cutest, but menacing pair of instigators, hop on to your bed, shaking Joel’s shoulder, trying to wake their father.

They were your fourth pregnancy, which was by far the most difficult one you had ever experienced. Constant discomfort, and sleepless nights from the relentless kicking and movement from them. It wasn’t the first time you had been pregnant with twins, but It had gone nothing like you had expected it to.

Joel, though typically a light sleeper, is particularly hard to wake after a night with no sleep, hence why you’d opted on letting him sleep in. The two of them, each on one side of him, lean in close to his face, leaving little room for personal space. “Daddy.” Jules says quietly, Jane keeping a close watch.

Joel peeks one eye open, a bit startled at first at the heavy breathing from the two girls so close to his face, but the confused expression on his face is quickly replaced by a tired grin. As soon as all the girls spot that their father has woken up, they all pile onto your bed, excitedly squealing and giggling. Luckily, little baby Joelseph had already been lulled into a deep sleep after he finished nursing. Even if he hadn’t, you're pretty sure the few short weeks he’s been in the world, he’s already used to the constant noise and chaos from his older sisters.

Joel sits up on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, and tries to wrap his arm as many of them as humanly possible.

“When can we open our presents, daddy?” Tiny little Aurora questions impatiently. This is the first year she’s been able to fully understand the concept of Christmas, and all the gift giving. So, understandably, she is ecstatic for all the festivities of the day. She crawls into his lap, after attempting to clamber over all of her sisters in the way. Joel scratches at the scruff of his beard, and lifts her into his lap.

“How about we all eat breakfast first, sweetheart, then you all can tear into your gifts.” He says lowly, his voice still laced with sleep. “Sound like a plan?” He asks. The girls all nod in agreement.

You slowly stand up from the bed, still cradling baby Joelseph in your arms. Walking towards the door, you gesture for the girls to do the same. They all climb off of the bed, and without fail, the house is once again filled with chaos. All eleven of them racing out of your bedroom, and down the staircase to the kitchen.

Joel meets you by the doorway, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” You tease him. “Sleep well?”

“Just like usual, darling.” He kisses you again, this time placing kisses all over your face, and down your neck, before you place your hand gently on his chest stopping him from going any further.

“Not so fast, old man.” you chuckle softly. “We don’t need another one of these.” you say, gesturing down to the baby bundled up in your arms.

“One more wouldn’t hurt, huh?” He teases, and you just shake your head.

“You say that because you aren’t the one who has to push them out.”

“We should probably get downstairs before they get into stuff that they shouldn’t be” You murmur, and Joel quietly nods in agreement.

The warmth of the morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you make your way into the dining room. Joel follows you, his hand brushing against the small of your back.

You and Joel enter the dining room, and expectedly the room is already filled with screaming and chaos. Alive with the energy of your daughters, and the two mischievous kittens, Ginny and Joel, weaving in and out of the chaos.

Emilie, your oldest, is trying to settle an argument between Lacy and Lily, your first set of twins. Nothing new in your household, nearly every morning, no matter how many times you have to tell them that every seat is the same, the kids insist on fighting on who sits where, who sits next to whom. It’s exhausting, but you can’t help but smile at the chaos unfolding before you-it’s simply the routine of your everyday life.

Emilie, with her stern expression, finally manages to resolve the seating dispute between Lacy and Lily. You glance at Joel, and he chuckles, a knowing look passing between you. The girls quickly settle into their chairs, the anticipation of Christmas morning evident in their sparkling eyes. As you take your seat at the head of the table, Joel sits beside you, and the cacophony gradually subsides. Little Aurora, perched on Joel’s lap, swings her legs excitedly, eager to dive into the festivities.

“Alright, everyone, let’s dig in!” you announce with a smile, and the room erupts in cheers. The aroma of the freshly cooked breakfast wafts through the air as the kids eagerly serve themselves.

Emilie diligently helps the younger ones with their breakfast. She occasionally steals glances at the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree, anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

Lacy and Lily are engaged in animated conversation, their excitement palpable. Daisy can’t stop giggling at something Theo whispered in her ear. The second set of twins, Jane and Jules, sit side by side, already plotting mischief as they eye the presents.

Willow, with her big curious eyes, is inspecting her plate with utmost concentration, trying to decide which part of her breakfast to tackle first.

In the midst of the laughter and chatter, you catch Joel’s eye. There’s a shared understanding between you, a silent acknowledgement of the beautiful chaos that is your family. His gaze is filled with gratitude, and you can’t help but feel the same.

As the kids enjoy their breakfast, you steal a moment with Joel. “Can you believe how fast they're growing?” you murmur, your eyes dancing with a mixture of love and exhaustion.

Joel leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking around the Tipsy Bison.”

You laugh, the memory of that fateful night vivid in your mind. “Look where it led us.”

Kylie babbles incoherently as she attempts to mimic her older siblings. Aurora still sits on Joel’s lap, her eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the festive scene, and Joel aids her with her breakfast.

Maggie sits contentedly in her high chair, fingers sticky with syrup, as she munches on a piece of a pancake you’ve carefully cut up into small pieces for her.

The kids, fueled by excitement and sugar, chatter animatedly about their plans for the day. You and Joel exchange glances, both silently reveling in the joy of parenthood. The journey hasn’t been easy, but moments like these make it all worthwhile.

As breakfast winds down, you glance at Joel, both of you silently agreeing it’s time for the much-anticipated event of the morning.

The living room is now adorned with brightly wrapped gifts, a colorful display of the love and thoughtfulness you and Joel put into each one. The kids finish their breakfast, their eyes darting eagerly between the tree and the presents.

“Alright, kiddos, let the unwrapping begin!” Joel declares, and the room explodes with excitement. Each of their little faces lighting up with joy.

“Okay, kiddos, let’s see what Santa brought us this year!” Joel exclaims, and the room erupts in cheers. The kids, now fueled by excitement from their furry friends and a hearty breakfast, rush to the tree, each claiming a spot around the mountain of gifts.

Emily takes charge, distributing gifts to each of her siblings with precision. Paper tears and laughter fill the air as each child discovers the treasures hidden beneath the wrapping.

Lacy and Lily eagerly tear into their presents, sharing excited glances when they unveil matching toys. Daisy clutches a doll close to her heart, and Jane and Jules giggle in delight at the surprise in their packages.

Theo, wide-eyed, unwraps a superhero action figure, and Willow discovers a fluffy stuffed animal that instantly becomes her new best friend. Kylie is overjoyed with a set of building blocks, her imagination already running wild.

Aurora claps her hands in glee as she unwraps a musical toy, and Maggie, though more interested in the wrapping paper than the actual gifts, coos happily.

Daisy twirls with a new dress, her face glowing with delight. “I’m going to wear this everyday!”

Aurora, surrounded by a pile of toys, claps her hands and points excitedly. “Look, Daddy, Mommy, so many toys!” Maggie, with a new plush toy in her tiny hands, giggles with joy. The room is filled with laughter and chatter as the kids excitedly showcase their new treasures.

Jane and Jules squeal in delight as they discover Joel curled up in the tangle of discarded wrapping paper, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Willow, with her big curious eyes, watches the kittens in fascination, occasionally reaching out to stroke their fur. Kylie bursts into giggles as Ginny playfully bats at a shiny ribbon. Aurora claps her hands in delight at the sight of the playful duo. Maggie points with chubby fingers, her face lighting up with a smile as Joel gracefully leaps onto the back of the couch.

Joel catches your eye, and you share a moment of warmth as you witness the joy on your children’s faces.

“Looks like our little fur balls are the stars of the show today.” He chuckles.

Watching as the kittens continue their playful antics. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of excitement, and the crinkling of wrapping paper.

As the chaos subsides, you lean into Joel, watching the kids with a contented smile. “Merry Christmas, Joel.” He whispers back the same sentiment, wrapping his arm around you, anchoring you in the midst of the joyful storm that is your family.

The room buzzes with the joyous laughter of your children, the kittens weaving throughout the living room. As the kids continue to show off their presents, Ginny and Joel curiously inspect the colorful array of toys and trinkets scattered across the room.

Emilie, your eldest, sits by your side, flipping through her new sketchbook. “Mom, look at this! It’s perfect for my drawings. Thank you, Santa!”

Lacy and Lily, wearing their matching necklaces, approach Joel with enthusiasm. “Dad, Dad! Can Joel play with us too?” they ask, extending an invitation for the adventurous kitten to join in on their imaginative play.

Daisy twirls around in her new dress, and with a dramatic flair, she curtsies. “I’m a princess, just like in the stories!”

Jane and Jules, holding their new board game, insist on a family game night. Jules, gives you a confused look, glancing from the box, and then back up at you. “What is Boggle anyway?”

“It’s just a word game, sweetheart, definitely an easy game to beat your dad at.” you laugh softly, shooting Joel a teasing grin.

Willow proudly shows you the fluffy stuffed animal she received. “Look Mom, It’s Fluffy! Daddy, feel how soft!” She grabs his hand to place it on the stuffed animal, and Joel enthusiastically plays along with her.

Kylie, engrossed in building her tower with the new blocks, beams with accomplishment. “It’s bigger than me, Mommy!” You smile at her gently, and give her compliments on her tower building skills.

Maggie, in her own little world, squeezes her plush toy and gurgles happily. The kittens, sensing the playful atmosphere, join in on the fun, batting at the discarded ribbons and chasing each other around the room.

Joel, still basking in the warmth of the family scene, leans over to you. “Seems like Santa knew exactly what they wanted.”

You nod, a content smile playing on your lips, ‘And the best part is seeing their faces light up with joy.”

The room is filled with laughter, the sound of wrapping paper being crinkled, and the occasional meow from Ginny and Joel. The chaos is harmonious, a melody of love and togetherness that defines your family.

The kids, their excitement undeterred, start brainstorming plans for the day–games to play, stories to tell, and perhaps a snowball fight if the weather permits. As the festivities continue, you can’t help but feel grateful for the love and warmth that fills your home–a treasure more precious than any gift under the tree.

As the kids reveled in the excitement of unwrapping their Christmas gifts, their attention turned to the chalkboard on the mantle–a poignant memorial to their older sister, Sarah. The room hushed momentarily as the children exchanged thoughtful glances, understanding the significance of the chalkboard.

The kids had put together some artwork and drawings the night before. They gather around the chalkboard, placing their artwork in front of it, creating a beautiful display of love and remembrance. The room, now adorned with their heartfelt tributes, felt infused with a sense of warmth and connection to Sarah’s memory.

Joel, watching from a distance, can't help but be moved by the sincerity and creativity of his children. The simple act of setting their drawings in front of the chalkboard transformed the mantle into a gallery of love—a tangible expression of the enduring impact Sarah's memory had on their hearts.

As the morning continued, the drawings stood as cherished tokens—a beautiful reminder that, even in the midst of joyous celebrations, the love for their sister would always hold a special place in the family's heart.

You nudge Joel gently, catching his attention. “Any Idea when Ellie, Dina, and JJ are planning to arrive?”

Joel looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes scanning the room to make sure all the kids are engaged in their newfound treasures. “They’re aiming to get here just in time for lunch. Should be any moment now.”

Excitement lights up on your face at the news. “The kids are going to be over the moon to see them again, and It wouldn’t be Christmas without them.”

Joel nods in agreement, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Ellie’s always been good at timing. They’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, a gentle knock at the door catches your attention. You glance at Joel, both of you sharing a knowing smile. The anticipation in the room heightens as the kids, sensing something special, look toward the door with wide eyes. Moments later, the front door bursts open, and the lively chatter of Ellie and Dina fills the air. The children squeal in delight, dropping their toys and rushing toward the doorway. Ellie enters first, holding JJ’s hand, Dina follows closely behind with a warm grin on her face.

The kids shout at them in unison, enveloping the new arrivals in a sea of hugs and excitement. You and Joel stand back, watching the heartwarming reunion unfold.

Ellie, catching your eye, gives you a knowing nod. “Merry Christmas!” she says as she greets you and Joel. You welcome them with open arms, a surge of joy filling your heart. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

As the laughter and joyful chaos continue to fill the room, you can’t help but marvel at the beautiful tapestry of your family, woven together by love, shared moments, and the bonds that withstand the test of time.

Amidst the joyful commotion, you navigate through the sea of excited children, still cradling little Joelseph in your arms. Joel joins you, and together you watch as Ellie, Dina, and JJ immerse themselves in the holiday cheer.

Ellie, after receiving an enthusiastic welcome from the kids, approaches you with a playful grin.

“How’s the newest little troublemaker doing?” she asks, casting an affectionate glance at Joelseph.

You chuckle, gently rocking the sleeping baby in your arms. “He’s been an angel all morning, surprisingly.” you yawn, tiredly.

Dina joins the conversation, “He’s gotten so big since we last saw him. Mind if we steal him for a bit?”

You nod with a smile, carefully passing Joelseph over to Dina. The little one stirs for a moment, but settles back into a peaceful slumber in Dina’s arms. “He’s all yours.’

The room continues to buzz with giggles and Ellie, Dina, and JJ become a seamless part of the festivities. The kids eagerly show them their new toys, and soon, the kittens, Ginny and Joel join the playful parade.

As the day unfolds, the house becomes a vibrant canvas, painted with the hues of love and togetherness. Joel, now with Aurora on his shoulders, navigates through the lively crowd. You find a quiet moment with Ellie, who is holding Joelseph with a tender smile.

“He’s adorable,” Ellie remarks, her eyes filled with a mix of nostalgia and affection. “Feels like just yesterday you were dealing with my teenage antics.”

You laugh, remembering those not-so-distant days. “Time flies, doesn’t it? Now look at us, and you, with a little family of your own.”

Ellie glances around the room, the sparkle of the holiday lights reflecting in her eyes. “Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend Christmas. And look at Joel, still being the heart and soul of this chaos.”

You follow her gaze to Joel, who is now surrounded by a group of kids, listening intently to one of Jane and Jules’ stories. The love in his eyes is evident as he shares in their laughter and mischief.

Ellie looks back at you, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You both did an amazing job. I’m proud to be part of this.”

And in that moment, as the laughter and warmth of your family envelop you, you couldn’t agree more. This Christmas, with all its magic, has woven another chapter into the rich tapestry of your lives–a chapter filled with love, laughter, and the cherished moments that make your family truly extraordinary.

As the festivities continue, Ellie, still cradling Joelseph, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Joel. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she approaches Joel, who’s now attempting to disentangle himself from a knot of kids.

“Hey, old man,” Ellie quips, giving Joel a playful nudge. “You holding up okay with all these little rascals running around?”

Joel chuckles, a playful glint in his eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep ‘em in check. You’ll find out soon enough, Ellie. Parenthood’s no joke.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her gaze shifting to Joelseph. “You’re the expert now, huh? It took you guys long enough to figure out the secret recipe for a baby boy.”

Joel grumbles and feigns offense. “Well, it’s not like we had a manual.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Says the guy who needed a football team's worth of daughters before finally getting a son.”

You join in on the banter, giving Joel an amused smile. “Took a bit of trial and error, but look at our charming little Joelseph now.”

Ellie leans in, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. “Not bad for an old guy, huh, kiddo?” she cooed, earning a content gurgle from the baby.

As the day of joyful chaos begin to wind down, the once lively house now settles into a more serene atmosphere. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a gentle glow over the living room as the laughter of the children gradually transforms into quiet giggles and yawns.

You and Joel, tired but content, herd the kids upstairs for their bedtime routine. The kittens, Ginny and Joel, follow along, their playful antics slowing down as they, too, sensing the impending calm.

“Alright kiddos, time for bed.” Joel announces, his tone gentle but firm as he ushers the kids into their respective rooms.

The procession of bedtime rituals unfold–one by one, teeth are brushed, pajamas are put on, and stories are read. The younger ones nestle into their beds, eyelids growing heavy with the sweet fatigue of a day filled with excitement.

As you check on each child, offering goodnight kisses and tucking them in, Joel moves gracefully through the house, turning off the twinkling lights and closing curtains. The house seems to exhale, the echoes of joyous laughter replaced by the hushed whispers of bedtime.

In the quiet moments between putting the kids to bed, you found Joel in the hallway, sharing a look of satisfaction passing between you. The day had been a whirlwind of love and joy, and now the peaceful hush settles over the house like a comforting blanket.

“Another Christmas for the books,” Joel remarks, his voice low.

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “And many more to come, I hope.”

The two of you continue the nightly routine, gently closing doors and ensuring the house was ready for the calm of night. The soft glow of the light spilling from your bedroom illuminates your path as you and Joel make your way into the room, where little Joelseph lay sleeping in his bassinet.

Joel pauses by the doorway, his eyes fondly watching the baby. “He’s been the best gift, hasn’t he?”

You nod, a warmth settling in your heart. “The best, indeed.”

The day had been a symphony of chaos and joy, a beautiful crescendo that had now found its resolution in the quietude of the evening. As you and Joel retire to your room, you can’t help but reflect on the blessings of family, love, and the precious moments that make Christmas truly magical.

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corroded-hellfire · 1 month

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Ok I feel like As You Wish!Eddie would be obsessed with that part in Enter Sandman where like he says the lines like “Now I lay me down to sleep” just to have his kids or reader repeat them back in like the innocent voice

Eddie lives his life by Metallica songs and teaches his children to do the same

Words: 1.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Alright pipsqueak,” Eddie says, gently tugging on the toe of Eliza’s purple footie pajamas as he passes where she sits between her brothers on the couch. “Bedtime.”

“No!” Eliza says, quickly rolling over a hundred eighty degrees so she’s laying on her tummy and buries her face in the couch cushion.

“Yes,” Eddie says. He scoops the remote up from the coffee table and presses the off button, effectively ending Shrek 2. “Come on. Go brush your teeth, little girl.”

Luke stares at his father and gestures to the television, as if to say we were watching that too, man. Rolling his eyes, Eddie tosses the remote into his younger son’s lap.

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says.

With a huff to show her father her displeasure, the three-year-old pushes herself off the couch and disappears down the hallway. Luke flicks the television back on and the last thing Eddie hears as he follows his daughter down the hallway is his teenage sons laughing at Puss in Boots coughing up a hairball.

“Ah, ah, with the toothpaste.” Your voice floats out of the bathroom into the hallway, making Eddie chuckle as he passes and keeps walking into Eliza’s room.

Deciding to mess with the feisty little firecracker, Eddie snatches up her favorite stuffed pig and lounges on his daughter’s too-short bed. It’s only a few minutes later that Eliza’s heavy tread can be heard coming down the hallway, the heavy footsteps baffling for such a small girl. The moment she crosses the threshold into her room, Eliza’s face scrunches up and her tiny shoulders rise up toward her ears.

“Hey!”

“Is for horses,” Eddie answers.

You’re two steps behind Eliza and the moment you see Eddie on the bed you chuckle to yourself. The Little Terror is about to be unleashed.

“My bed!” Eliza launches herself up on top of her father, causing him to let out an oof as she lands on his stomach. “My Penelope!” Small hands go to grab the stuffed pig but Eddie’s quicker, moving the plush animal behind his head to use as a pillow.

“Wow, kid, you really need to learn to share,” Eddie says.

A long exhale blows from Eliza’s nose, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a growl. Scooting her body up Eddie’s chest, your daughter rests her forehead against her father’s, giving him the most intimidating look she can manage. She probably doesn’t realize that to Eddie it now just looks like she has one giant eye, though. Hardly intimidating–even for the toddler.

“Did you give night-night kisses?” Eddie asks.

“Penelope,” is Eliza’s only reply.

“I’ll give you Penelope the Pig back once you give everyone goodnight kisses.”

Sitting up straight, Eliza eyes her father skeptically. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she must decide to believe him because she slides from his chest and lands on her carpet with a thud.

“Ryaaaaaan! Luuuuuuke!” Her calls echo down the hall as she runs, the shouts accompanied by the loud thumping of her feet as she picks up speed.

“And you wonder why she’s a menace,” you say to your husband, tilting your head at him as you lean against the door jamb.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re implying,” your husband answers, giving you the most innocent doe eyes he can manage.

Before you can come up with a response, Eliza rushes past you, back into the room. She skids to a stop and spins on her covered feet to face you.

“Kiss, Mama!”

Happy to oblige her, you scoop her up in your arms and press kisses all over her face. Her giggles are infectious as she tries to dodge your lips, protesting that this is an overload of kisses. She gives you a quick squeeze around the neck and you can’t help but notice how she’s feeling heavier in your arms these days. It makes a part of you sad, remembering when she was small enough to lay in the crook of your elbow.

Eliza wriggles out of your grip and makes her way back over to her bed. Her lower lip juts out in a pout and she bats her dark eyelashes at her dad.

“Can I have Penelope now pleeeeease?” she asks in her sweetest voice.

“I guess so.”

Eddie pushes himself off the child’s bed and hands his daughter the stuffed pig. He presses a kiss to her head and tucks her in as she snuggles beneath her blankets.

“Okay, ready for prayers?” Eddie asks.

“Ready.” Eliza snuggles back against her pillow, clasps her hands together in front of her, and closes her eyes.

“Now, I lay me down to sleep.”

“Now, I lay me down to sleep,” your daughter repeats, making you smile.

“Pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

“If I die before I wake.”

“Pray the Lord my soul to take.”

“Good job.” Eddie leans down and kisses her. “Goodnight, Sweet Pea.”

“Nighty night, Daddy.”

Quietly, you slip from the room, Eddie right behind you. He flips the light switch, turning off her overhead light and activating her Mulan nightlight. Gently, he closes the door behind him, and the two of you pad down the hall towards your room.

“You think Wayne will ever catch on that’s from a Metallica song and not your devotion to God?” you ask, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Not if someone keeps her mouth shut,” Eddie says, grabbing your sides and digging his fingers into them. Giggles erupt from you as you push his hands away and stumble into your shared room.

“Hush little baby, don't say a word,” you recite the next line of the song, walking backwards towards your bed. “And never mind that noise you heard.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you as he slowly saunters forward, coming closer to you.

“It's just the beasts under your bed,” you continue. “In your closet, in your head.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie says, smirk on his face growing, “you’re about to have a beast in your bed.”

A soft yelp shoots out of you with a bout of laughter as Eddie tackles you down on the bed. He climbs on top of you and presses kisses all over your face, just like you’d done to Eliza.

“Oof, she’s right,” you say. “Too much.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie teases. He scoffs and pretends to climb off of you.

With a roll of your eyes, your fingers grip into the front of his t-shirt and you pull him back down on top of you.

“Get back here, altar boy.”

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