#because i was making free icons before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

4K notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 9 months

Note

idc how good dom!miguel fics are, that man is a whole ass sub.

anyhooooooos, may i request rich sub!miguel wanting reader to step on him (literally) with the new red-bottoms he bought her before begging to munch on her. you can decide if reader grants him his request or not. maybe the heels weren’t enough of an apology for his workaholic self 👀

Pairing: Sub!Miguel x Femdom!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Some Plot, Degradation, Miguel Being Stepped On, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (Fem. Receiving), Some Begging, Spit Play, Self-Edging, Face Sitting

Summary: Miguel is going to have to do more than give you gifts if he wants your forgiveness.

A/N: The way I SCREAMED when I read this request :))

Word Count: 2.1K (Barley Edited)

They were pretty, sure.

Iconic shiny black heels with rich red bottoms. They definitely cost a pretty penny, which Miguel had plenty of. He constantly had expensive gifts to spoil you with. Designer purses and dresses and thousand dollar shoes that only ever got worn a handful of times. He even bought you the shiny new penthouse that you sit in now, just watching him.

You sat on your expensive leather couch, another gift from your lovely boyfriend, boredly sipping from your wine glass as Miguel rests on his knees before you. His hold on your legs is gentle as he slips the new shoes onto your feet. The look on his face is one of pure devotion and admiration as he looks up at you. He kisses your ankle each time he puts on a shoe, mumbling his love and apologizes against your skin. The sight is cute, if not entirely pathetic.

He had come through your front door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand with the recognizable Louboutin shopping bag clutched in the other. It was an apology for leaving your date early last week because he got called into HQ at the last minute. To say you were less than impressed was an understatement. Clearly the man didn’t know what a proper apology was. Good thing you’re always willing to teach him.

“Do you like them, mi vida?” Miguel mumbled against the skin of your calf. He peppered soft kisses to your skin, eyes practically looking up at you in a crave for approval.

All you did was let out a dismissive hum around the rim of your glass, “I would hardly call it an apology.”

The glass covered your pleased smirk as a look of desperation crossed Miguel’s face. He wanted to make it up to you, to make you happy. Happy with him. He needed you to be happy with him. His lips started to trail higher up your leg, hand coming up to push your silk slip higher up so he can kiss your thighs. He kissed and licked the skin, a pleading look in his eyes, “Please, please let me make it up to you.”

The words were a whisper and his position on your legs and his undertone wasn't lost on you. He said it in a tone he knew you liked. That pathetic whine that dripped with a crazed need. The voice you always cooed at and showered him in praise for.

“And ruin my leather couch? No, thanks.” You scoffed, bending your leg and pushing your heel into Miguel’s chest. With just enough power, you pushed him away from you, causing him to fall on his elbows on the floor.

You slowly got off the couch, standing over Miguel’s form as you downed the rest of your remaining wine. You lifted your foot again and placed it on his chest to keep him down. The heel dug into his chest and he grabbed your calf as you slightly grind your foot into it. Miguel looks up at you with dazed eyes, an expression of pure arousal flushing his face. You crouch down and your free hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck tightly. The tiniest whimper leaves Miguel’s mouth as you jerk his head forward so his ear is next to your mouth.

“You should see yourself, a pathetic excuse of a man begging for forgiveness. The leader of an elite society of heroes turned into a beggar at my feet. What a joke.” The words were a sarcastic chuckle that made Miguel moan slightly. God it was so hot when you looked down at him like this.

You let go of his hair, standing up again. You looked down at him for another minute before scoffing and turning away. Your quick dismissal of him makes Miguel gasp and scramble to get back onto his feet. He was a stumbling fool, trying to pick himself up off the ground in a hurry to follow after you like a puppy. “W-wait! Mi amor, wait!”

You ignore his protests as you set your empty glass on a nearby surface on your way to your bedroom. Miguel is right behind you, tripping over his feet as he chases you with stuttering words. When you reach your bedroom, you close the door right behind you, forcing Miguel to hold the door open so it doesn’t shut in his face.

“Mi tesoro, please.” He grunts, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with a bored expression waiting for him. He quickly makes his way over, spreading your legs so he can kneel in between them. “Let me show you I’m sorry. Please, perdóname.”

You let out a soft sigh as you tilt your head to the side and stare down at him. He holds onto your calf again, head resting on your thigh as he stares up at you. Your hand comes up, caressing the side of his face gently. Miguel practically purrs at the loving gesture before your hand moves to his chin and grips it tightly.

You move his face off your thigh, holding it close to yours as you smile mockingly. “You’re so pathetic, Mig.”

“For you? Siempre.” Miguel responds automatically as he leans closer to mumble it against your lips. Your smile widens before you pull him into a kiss.

Miguel instantly moans and lets his hands travel up your legs to massage your thighs. He practically melts against you, basking in the taste of the sweet wine that remains on your lips. When you pull away, his eyes are glossy and sluggish. It’s as if he got drunk off your kiss and the aftertaste of wine. You stroke the side of his chin with your thumb in an attempt to pull him from his daze as you spread your thighs wider for him.

“You better make it good, Miguel. Open.” The last word is commanding and Miguel doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth. You lean down and spit in his mouth, “Swallow it.”

He happily obliged, swallowing it with a happy hum. His eyes drift down from your eyes to your spread legs. The pretty lace of your panties is in clear view from where he kneels and he lets out a soft whine at the damp spot on them. He looks back up at you, a desperate, pleading expression morphing his features. When you give him a silent nod, his face flashes into a smile like a kid being told he can get whatever toy he wants at the store.

“Thank you. Thank you, mi cielo.” He mumbles as he slides his hands under your slip to grasp the sides of your lace.

He pulls it down slowly from your legs, watching intently as it reveals your cunt. He bites his lip at the sight and lets out a shaky sigh as your panties are dropped down your legs. Once they’re off, you scoot up on the bed to lay on your back. Miguel instantly follows your body, leaning his elbows on the bed as he grabs your thighs to spread them open again. He doesn’t hesitate to bunch your nightgown up to your waist and bury his head in your glistening sweetness.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as your hands go to Miguel’s hair. His warm tongue licks you fervently, moaning into the skin as he drinks in your sweet juices. It’s sweeter than any bottle of wine money could possibly buy. His tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it to prod his tongue into your entrance.

A soft sigh is his reward as you lift your legs to rest your heel-clad feet on his shoulders to give him a better angle. When the heel digs into his skin through his button-up, Miguel lets out a desperate whine that causes your thighs to flex. His eyes travel up your body until they meet your own. His brows are furrowed in concentration, but his red eyes are brightened with enjoyment.

He’s a desperate man as he tightens his hold on your thighs and works his mouth against you. He moans at your moans, lets his tongue lick long strokes to gather as much of your arousal as possible. He’s enjoying this, finding an aching pleasure in the ability to feast on you. It’s too good, too heavenly. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes and thrusts his cock into the bed with each lick he gives your pussy.

You’re close, both you and Miguel can feel it. Miguel hurries his licks and sucks harsher, moving to focus on your clit. He’s so desperate for you to cum on his face, because he knows that when you do, it means you’ve forgiven him. That, and he is impatient to swallow it all. But you haven't forgiven him yet, so you tug on his hair once again and pull his face away.

Miguel lets out a sound of protest, mumbling “No. No, no, no. Please.” while trying to fight your grip and bury his face back into your folds. He looks back up at you with sad eyes, small whines leaving his lips as if he were an injured dog. Meanwhile, you’re panting. You’re pussy throbbing at your own denial for release. You try to gain your breath before rasping out, “You haven’t earned my cum yet.”

Miguel lets out a desperate noise in response. He tries once again to suck your clit into his mouth, but your hold is unbreakable. You sit up then, legs now folded under you as you look down at his sticky face. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

Your instructions give him new life, knowing exactly where this is going. He quickly gets up and practically throws himself onto the bed. He lays patiently as you crawl over to him until you’re hovering above his face. His eyes fall to your pussy again and he groans in excitement. The tension grows as your thighs come to rest on either side of his head but make no move to lower yourself down. You’re hovering just high enough so Miguel can’t flick his tongue up to taste you. It makes Miguel squirm with impatience.

Right when he opens his mouth to start begging you to sit down, you drop onto his face. His gasp is suffocated against your pussy as he grabs onto your thighs. He closes his eyes instantly as he begins moving his tongue into your cunt, moaning when he feels your walls swell. Hurriedly, you take his hands and bring them up to your waist so your slip isn’t covering his face before you grab onto the headboard.

Miguel’s whine vibrates against your pussy lips and you begin bucking your hip into his mouth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit with every thrust, increasing your pleasure. Miguel finds his own pleasure in it, getting the ability to smell your honey-like slick. Miguel mumbles words against you, but the words are incoherent between your moans and him cutting himself off to lick and suck on you. When your peak builds again, you gasp and try to ride his face faster. One of your hands drop from the headboard to tangle in Miguel’s hair, causing him to moan in appreciation.

With a few more strong licks from his tongue, paired with your consistent thrusts, you cum. Miguel greedily moans and laps it all up, holding you still on his face as he swallows mouthful after mouthful of release and slick. His tongue working to ease it all out of you. All you can do is try to catch your breath as you throw your head back and move your hips in lazy bucks before lifting yourself off his face. It gives Miguel time to catch his own breath as he looks up at you with a ruined mouth and dilated eyes.

“What do you say Miguel?” You question as you remain hovered over him.

Miguel is still trying to catch his breath, chest heaving. He lets out deep breaths before he can barely reply with, “Thank you for letting me taste your pretty pussy.”

You sigh before humming in approval, pushing your hair out of your face as you get up off the bed. When you look further down the bed and Miguel’s body, you see Miguel’s cock straining painfully through his dress pants. You let out a breathless chuckle as you press down on it with your hand. Miguel instantly moans and you feel him twitch in your hand.

“Take care of this by yourself, I’m going to take a bath.” You dismiss while rotating your hand over his bulge before taking your hand off him completely and disappearing into your personal bathroom.

You leave Miguel on your bed, a glistening mess dripping down his face and an aching cock in need of attention. He can’t stop the whine that morphs into a satisfied smile as he throws his arm over his eyes.

At least he’s forgiven.

I wrote this the same day that I got the request, but I didn’t want to mess up my posting schedule, so I’m sorry it’s been a few days!!

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

1K notes · View notes

nouvxllev · 4 months

Note

Hi, just wanna say I love your stuff! I was wondering if you’d do a Jenna x reader who is the daughter of Winona Ryder and Jenna meets her on the set of Beetlejuice 2. Winona acting as a wing woman for Jenna.

head over heels, your hand over mine

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^ request!

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: longer than i intended it to be

a/n: first of all... tysm!!! and second of all, thank you for the request!! means alot to me and i wrote it to the best of my abilities, hope you'll like it!!!

seq. || masterlist

Shit, shit, shit...

Jenna cursed under her breath as she practically hammered down the first-floor button as if that was going to make it go faster.

She glanced over to the indicator right above the door, the numbers slowly inching towards the ground floor. Her foot kept directing her side to side in the elevator, a stressed back-and-forth pace she caught herself on all while she gripped the Beetlejuice 2 script right in her hands, the paper almost being punctured with holes and such.

Jenna could almost blame herself for this.

Actually, she does. She damned herself so much she wouldn't be surprised if she got hit by a bus, really.

It wasn't any other day you'd get a role in Beetlejuice, 2, might she add, and even landing the role of the daughter of Winona Ryder who is possibly one of the most outstanding actresses out there and a 90s icon.

And now she's just slightly fucking it up with first impressions with how she's atleast 10 minutes late to their set because she spent her entire night in reading and rereading the script over and over until she perfected her lines to the point it's probably better if she'd just make Beetlejuice herself.

When the doors slid open, Jenna bolted out until she made her way to the entrance, her hand tightly clutching that damn script and her other gripping the strap of her bag.

Fumbling with her phone to call an Uber, she couldn't help but grimace at the thousands upon thousands of texts saying that she was late and her alarm clocks repeatedly being turned on to snooze just minutes before.

Of course, this day of all days just so happened to be the day that the universe decided that it had a grudge on Jenna for whatever reason because all Ubers were somehow booked and it would probably take atleast 30 minutes for another one.

So, like the hardworking actress she is determined to get a first impression even with punctuality falling behind her, she ran.

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

It wasn't long, thank-fucking-god, till Jenna got to set. She slowed her pace a little when she saw the cameras and people surrounding a particular area.

She took a moment to compose herself as she approached them, smoothing down her pants and fixing her hair all while she tried to catch her breath before possibly collapsing on the ground. The crew members spared her a glance, how comforting, even if they all had concerned looks on their faces.

Jenna always worked with such talented actors and directors, and now here she was working with Winona Ryder meanwhile she was looking like she ran a marathon on the side while going to set.

"You're here!" Winona called out, lowering the script in her hands while she offered a warm smile. "We almost thought there were some complications in your schedule."

The young actress offered a sheepish smile, embarrassment flowing in her mind as she offered a weak hand gesture. "I'm so sorry, all Ubers were somehow booked and I woke up late." She admitted before introducing herself. "I'm Jenna. Ortega." She added.

Winona chuckled, "No worries. The tech team is sorting out some equipment issues, so it's a bit of free time right now." She explained, offering a handshake. "Winona Ryder. Your mother. Well, on-screen." She joked while Jenna laughed with it.

"God, sorry if I look worn out. I really admire your work, it's all so amazing." Jenna took her hand, reciprocating the gesture. She was almost going to add something until a figure approached Winona, looking like a split-perfect resemblance of her. And oh how she did the fastest double-take in her whole life.

"Oh, right!" Winona pulled, possibly the most prettiest and gorgeous, girl Jenna has laid eyes on in her 21 years of continuous breathing by the shoulders and pushed her in front of the young actress. Now life without you suddenly looks like something she just completely wasted her precious time on.

Just by looking at Winona and how excitement reflected in her eyes, Jenna could tell how much she beamed with pride for her daughter; it made her heart swell.

"Meet my daughter, Y/n."

There were things Jenna should do when she meets someone. She introduces herself in a calm manner and maybe engage in some friendly talk with them whether if it's the most awkward-est thing in her life or one of the moments she'd like to spend forever in.

What she shouldn't do is slowly have a mid-introduction nosebleed, completely throw out the knowledge that she has the ability to speak and say words while her mouth is half-agape and her eyes wide and never blinking. This rule seems to be more strict when she's convinced she has met the love of your life.

It's safe to say that Jenna checked all the boxes on the latter.

Jenna met your gaze, and oh how that was the stupidest decision she had ever made in her entire life. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, breath caught in her throat, she tried to speak for a second but nothing came. It was like she was drowning but in the best way possible. And also falling head over heels in the worst way possible.

It's concerning how she almost wants to drop down and marry you on the spot; she's already rehearsing her vows inside her brain.

Jenna raised her hand, a shaky one at that, to offer a handshake. "I'm Jenny," she managed to squeak out, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at fumbling her own damn name. "I mean, Jenna! Sorry, not Jenny. I'm Jenna. Jenna Ortega." Oh, fuck, please just slit my throat already.

In every bad and awkward introduction, there's always someone from the other line slightly concerned but plays with it.

Your eyes crinkled, a bright sight to see that would put all sunrises to shame, and your lips parted like how the clouds part after a gloomy day, letting out a laugh that calmed Jenna's heart almost immediately. It was still running and skipping a fuck ton of beats per second, but your laugh seemed to warm it all.

"I'm Y/n, of course." You held Jenna's faltering eye contact as you reciprocated her gesture, "I'm really only here to accompany my mom," you explained. Please stay here forever. Better yet, be with me. Jenna almost said.

You shook her hand in the most softest way possible, her palm fitting right into yours. "Can't believe I met you, honestly." Jenna heard you mutter under your breath, a squeal following it.

Oh, if falling head over heels over you was a sin, she'd gladly be the epitome of something so mortal.

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

And that was only a week ago. Just imagine how much internal panic she goes through whenever she sees you now.

Jenna repeatedly cursed under her breath, staring at the reflection of herself in the mirror as she gripped the cold parts of the sink, glaring at herself in complete thought.

Almost so serious as if her mind wasn't battling with something so completely stupid she'd rather drown in self-pity and misery.

Jenna Ortega, deemed as America's #1 IT girl who practically swooned all seven continents by now, almost had a near anaphylactic shock when her hand grazed over yours and how you gave her possibly the most sweetest and soul-crushing smile with that stupidest crinkle in your eye to ever exist on this damned earth, holy fuck.

Why should she be so head over heels for you?

She lowered her head in defeat, a heavy sigh escaping her as the same image of your smile flickered in her mind, and now a stupid grin from your stupid image graced her lips.

It was only a week in being on the Beetlejuice set, and she damn near lost her mind.

You were always there, well of course you were there since you were Winona Ryder's daughter, but she didn't expect to be so obsessed with you to the point she needs to go to the bathroom to silently scream whenever she hears or sees your intoxicating smile.

It's sweet. Almost endearing to her.

As if she even has the right to even think about you in that way.

Jenna stepped outside, patting her hands dry by the hem of her shirt. her name already being called out by the directors, their voices only getting louder and louder until it dwindled down to nothing and she could only assume that Winona stopped them, it was still her break after all. She was almost like a real mother to her, a comforting one at that.

She started to take a pattern in her steps before she saw you sitting on the railings of the trailer. More importantly, Jenna's trailer.

Okay, she shouldn't have seen this as a sign from the universe that you liked her back, but she did and that was all the hope that the fate or whatever deity could do because she was too desperate and too drunk on the lack of attention and attraction you were giving her.

But how could she not do that when you look so perfect just being... you? Being everything she wanted? Needed? Just being so damn perfect almost feels like Jenna could die.

"You like my daughter, don't you."

Jenna looked behind her, the sudden voice that crept being Winona, the mother of the daughter she had been smitten for, a noticeable faint smile on her lips. It was more of a statement than a question. A fact, really.

Jenna could almost deny it if it wasn't so accurate. But what was she supposed to say? "Yes, I do like your daughter, in fact, I love her so much I would absolutely give up my very career to buy her the most expensive wedding ring to ever be created from the hands of a human, or even a Greek God perhaps, to show that she owns my entire heart, body, and soul."

Panic was evident, Winona could clearly tell by the way Jenna looked like was scramming to think up of a half-assed excuse.

"Yes—I mean, not like like. I love her, really. She's talented, hardworking, and passionate in the things she talks about. But that's really it; I love Y/n, in a friendly way." Jenna stammered. Even if she was spouting complete lies and nonsense about how she doesn't have a massive crush on you, her gaze was stuck on, of course, you yourself.

Winona arched an eyebrow, "Jenna, I know when someone is horribly in love with my daughter and who’s not."

"The both of you were always somehow joined together, even if none of you were talking. You’re always finding a reason to bring her up in a conversation even if no one was even talking about her. Also, everyone takes notice of how your gaze was always focused on Y/n. Even on scene, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her for a second."

Yeah, that seems about right.

Jenna sighed, her line of sight never laying off of you. It's amazing how you still haven't noticed she and your mother was staring at you like a bunch of stalkers.

"Y/n deserves someone like her, someone in her league," she turned around, now walking in the opposite direction to her original one. She almost sounded like a teenage boy who realized they couldn't get with the popular girl. "She looks like someone even from the heavens above couldn’t fathom they created her from their own mind and hands."

Winona's expression softened as she caught up to Jenna, now walking beside her. "If you, The Jenna Ortega, fail to get her attention and love then it's all over for us." She never heard someone talk so romantic about her daughter, it's truly unfair how the ones who love the most always fall short.

Jenna's steps slowed, her body slumping against the fall as her gaze was fixed on the ground. God, why was she acting like this over you?

The young actress nodded, her hands going up to her face and sliding them down as she spoke, "She's like this incredible and unattainable dream you want to continue after you wake up, Winona." She mumbled through her hands, "Y/n's gorgeous, gentle, charming, and just… perfect." She let go of her face, her hands now on her sides. "It's intimidating just by looking at her, knowing she's the essence of beauty and perfection. Like, how do you compete with that? Overall be someone who she wants to stick by her side?"

The actress observed the young one, Jenna's head down and fidgeting with her rings. Winona could almost say that this was the most vulnerable sight she ever saw from her. "You don't have to match her perfection, let alone measure yourself up to that; you just need to be the missing piece she didn't know she needed. "

Jenna took a deep breath, her head slowly rising, "I just don't want to mess it up. She deserves someone as awesome as her, and if she ever likes me back, I'm afraid of waking up and realizing I'm not enough for her to be someone she loves."

Winona tilted her head, crossing her arms, "Tell you what, I don't know much about my daughter now. She's not closed off, but she isn't open either." She could see how Jenna flicked her head upwards, listening attentively. "But I do know that she's been watching all of your movies and shows up to this point."

Jenna's eyes widened in surprise. She doesn't wanna take any risks, but she doesn't wanna lose any chances either. "She... she has?"

Winona nodded, a soft and warm smile playing on her lips, just like the one you always have if not more comforting.

"I could never hear the end of it. She says you have this genuine charm whenever you speak, you're calm but you're also being true to yourself. Y/n admires you so much, I almost get sick of it," she laughed that pulled a chuckle from Jenna. "You're perfect in her eyes, but that's not what she likes about you. She likes you because you're authentic, yourself." She reached out for Jenna's shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I'll be your wingman. I'm sure you're the perfect girl for my daughter."

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

And that was maybe two to three months ago.

Now Jenna's thinking that you might be the most oblivious person to ever roam this entire globe. She's been dropping hints everywhere you go and you still wouldn't catch up that she has feelings for you!

Ever since Jenna got into Winona's wing, she knew everything that makes you happy. Your music taste, what type of flowers you like, what type of outings you like, clothes, scents, foods, colors, even legos, just basically everything under the sun she gave to you within a heartbeat.

Jenna gives you flowers everyday, hell even bouquets if she's feeling fancy. Reads and writes you letters, and ever since Winona gave her your number, she's been sending you voicemails of your favorite songs every morning as some goodmorning text. She's been nothing but romantic to you! Was she just missing something?

The only thing that really progressed was something of strangers to friends. The two of you were as close as ever to the point if one of you were needed, somebody probably would need to surgically remove both of you.

But that was it! No nothing, just friends. It was selfish for Jenna to want something more when she has the love of her life close to her as a friend, sure, but she needed just a little bit more before she mentally goes insane.

"I mean, come on!" Jenna complained to Winona, sitting across from the other chair just right beside her trailer, script in her hands but she was paying more attention to Jenna. "Flowers, letters, voicemails… I'm practically screaming 'I like you' at this point." She slumped over the table, "or maybe she's just really ignoring them."

"I think you're thinking too deeply, Jenna," Winona stated, looking over to somewhere far, "maybe you should confess. She's right there."

Jenna was about to stand up and say it all out and die in a hole if she gets rejected until she realized you were wearing something so... fucking gorgeous? stunning? breathtaking? ethereal? She needed a stronger word than all words combined.

It wasn't your everyday casual wear, in fact, it was something you'd wear to go on a date. A date that meant something, a date that you'd go with another person and to confess their love.

Oh, don't fucking tell her she was too slow to confess and some random dude confessed earlier.

"I don't..." Jenna stammered, she could sense that agonizing feeling of her heart sinking, a stinging pain but it was mixed with immense pressure, like she was almost drowning. "I don't really think it's the right time."

Winona let out a sympathetic sigh, "she did tell me that she was going somewhere important." She waved in your direction, grabbing your attention. "Y/n!"

Jenna didn't know it was possible to drown without having any bodies of water near you, now she was fully experiencing it by how her heart sank even further as she heard Winona's words.

She shouldn't be surprised, after all, somebody actually had the guts and mindset to actually confess to you personally without having to hide behind a facade and without having to drop a fuck ton of hints instead of saying it out loud.

It stung. Thinking that someone out there was that one for you. And how that someone was never Jenna. But it was sweet. She winced.

Jenna couldn't shake the pang and sting of disappointment as she watched to walk over to Winona, a smile on your lips like you've met the most wonderful person to ever be in your life. She couldn't read if it was real, and she hoped to God it was fake.

"What's with the get-up?" Winona asked, standing up while giving Jenna the look.

"Going on a date with this guy, he asked me." You smiled, yet again, but it was even brighter.

Yeah, she figured. When did she even assume that you liked women anyway?

"Can I borrow your car, mom, please?" You asked of her, your puppy eyes going in action while you mentally crossed your fingers.

Jenna wasn't the one to brag, but she could drive a car! Not that idiot guy who couldn't even take whatever vehicle to fetch her as a nice gesture. Hell, it was a date for godsakes!

Winona sighed, glancing between Jenna and you. "Sure, you can borrow the car," she stated before digging into her pockets and fetching her car keys, plotting it down to your hands, "but make sure to bring it back in one piece."

Jenna bit her lip, suppressing the urge to completely pull herself out of her chair and scream 'I love you so goddamn much, Y/n! Can't you see I'm the one for you and not some guy who couldn't even go the mile to drive you to the damn date!?' But no. Instead, she stayed in her seat, nodded as a goodbye, and forced yet another smile.

"Thanks for the flowers by the way, Jenna! I should really pay you back sometime." You chuckled, before hugging her head as your way of goodbye. "I'll tell you all about it when I get home."

"Don't worry about the flowers. No need to pay me back," Jenna replied, doing her damn best to keep her tone light and her knuckles not so light. As you hugged her, Jenna couldn't help but savor the moment, imagining that it wasn't a goodbye to go off on some date with some random dude but rather a lovely gesture. "I'll be waiting to hear all about it."

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

That was atleast three to five hours ago.

Jenna never knew how a 2$ caesar salad bought from a suspicious vendor on the sidewalks could be so depressing but still mock her on how she just lost the love of her life to someone who actually had the guts to confess until she actually experienced it.

It was a slow day on set. Probably because it was already so late at night. There were still some scenes being recorded, but most of it was Winona's.

So along those hours when Jenna wasn't with you or she couldn't text you through the phone, all she could really do was stare from afar and hope that you'd magically have some miraculous change of mind mid-date and maybe you'll soon believe and realize Jenna was the one for you after all.

Of course, life wasn't like a damn movie and that damn date was still going to happen no matter what she does.

Winona sat beside Jenna, offering a sympathetic look at how Jenna was poking around her lettuce. "You know that's her quote-on-quote I don't really give two shits outfit but I still need to look good for a requirement that is people's feelings."

Jenna let go of her fork, damn even it looked sad. "But she looks beautiful."

Winona could almost roll her eyes if not for the young actress wallowing in her own thoughts. "It's because you're head over heels for her, Jenna. She could wear some obnoxious color-clashing clothes and she'd still look like a goddess for you."

Jenna sighed, picking up her fork again and halfheartedly stabbing a folded lettuce leaf. "I mean, don't you?" she asked, glancing at Winona. "You're her mother."

Winona shrugged, "Her clothes, her choice, but I still absolutely would not." She laughed, and her smile brightened when Jenna allowed a smile to crack through her lips.

Jenna could almost face-plant herself into the salad bowl if not for a notification pinging in Winona's phone. A notification that Winona only applied for you.

"...Or you could tell her that she's much better off with you rather than some guy that stood her up." Winona showed the phone to Jenna, your message illuminating on the screen.

y/n

mom can u pick me up? karaoke room 217 stood up on me lol come quick, pls. thx

Jenna would've been lying if she said she wasn't jumping, screaming, throwing up in literal joy.

Well, of course, she was mad that you of all people were stood up, but she was semi-glad that you were.

Jenna's urgency was visible as she scrambled to get out of her seat, grabbing her bag with such hast and making a sudden beeline for the exit.

"Tell her that you can't go! I wanna surprise her," She yelled to Winona, her excitement in her voice echoing through the room. It's almost weird and insane how happy she was about how you were stood up.

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

You waited for 2 hours.

It wasn't disappointing. You already knew it was just some sort of dare or a prank that one of his friends pulled, but you showed up anyway. Not like because you wanted to play with his feelings; you couldn't do that if you didn't have any.

In fact, you had feelings for Jenna.

Ever since she showed up on your screen, she was the only actress you could ever think about. She was charming, alluring, the only person who could make the daylight so dark if her smile was out of place.

You didn't know her, personally then, but you loved her. You were willing to start wars with the world, may it be against you or may all odds and fate oppose you, you’d do everything for her even if it kills you to be someone who would take all her hidden suffering and plead for tears with your palms locked and thrown away.

And now that you were working with her on set, you couldn't help but be someone you're not. All thanks to you and your mother on reluctantly giving up on the idea of not bringing you to set. You wanted to confess, you really did. It was just a silly little crush like you'd always have but this one with Jenna seemed real and your life would've ended if your feelings were rejected.

Though, even after all that, Jenna was the one you wanted to be with. The one you hoped would walk through that damn door and hug you until your worries and thoughts all disappeared, only met with her voice and her comforting arms.

That would've been a fleeting memory, wishful thinking. That is until the very girl that made you go insane rushed into the room.

What the fuck.

She was exhausted, you could tell by her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of her; looking like she had gone the extra mile and maybe even drove a car on the way instead of running, just to be there with you. You could almost start laughing and be that snarky person you've always been to her if not for everything else fading into the background until Jenna was the only one left.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around your body as she tightened the hug as if you'd die if she ever let go of your body. The warmth of her touch, the comfort in her soul, and her very being brought something so grand as you hugged her back. You feared that letting go would mean losing her forever, and she thought the same way.

"I love you." She murmured on your shoulders, closing her eyes. You notice how her voice cracked with vulnerability and almost sorrow as you tightened your hold on her.

"I love you," she whispered yet again, as if you didn't hear her the firs time. "I love you, I love you, I just love you." She dug her head under your neck, her breath warm on your skin as you waited for her to finish.

You could feel Jenna's heartbeat against your chest, fast and beating while it synced with your own. "I love you, Y/n. You don’t know how many lifetimes I would kill myself for you to look into my soul, everything beneath, and even the darkest parts of my heart so then you’ll see how I perceive you to be everything I look for. I can't understand how you don't understand how much you mean to me. How much your laughter was something I didn't know would be the cure to whatever terminal illness I had in life, your actions being my motivation, your soul being my guiding light, and your smile being something so bright that not even the sun could beat its glory."

Jenna slowly pulled away from you, her eyes searching yours for a reaction. The room was always so silent, but it never felt like it was the funeral of sound itself.

"I'm sorry—That—That wasn't... I didn't—" she stammered, her body already getting up and pulling away from you.

Gently, you reached out and cupped her face with your hands, your thumbs brushing away the newly formed tears that had welled up in her eyes and dripped from her cheeks. You could feel the warmth of her skin beneath your touch, her freckles, and everything that made Jenna her was right beneath your palm. You want nothing but to cherish it.

You couldn't think of a reply. You could, but it would never beat the confession Jenna had for you. It was more than a mere confession, but something out of a book that would put every writer to shame.

"Is this okay?" Your eyes searched for Jenna's consent in hers as you leaned in ever so slightly, her breath lingering on your skin until Jenna's lips met yours in a hesitant, gentle kiss. The touch of her soft lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, her hands coming up to cradle your face as she melted into you while your own hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Life felt like something you wasted without her lips touching yours. How you felt everything and how you were everything under her soft touch, her presence. It was if every moment before her had been leading to this one. Every heartbeat, every breath, every time you've experienced something happy, sad, or even something conflicted was building up to the moment your lips finally met hers. You felt whole, alive, reassured, and comforted.

Her touch felt like a warm embrace from something so indestructible, a star so far away that only you could see it shine from afar but yet you could feel every inch of its presence.

Then it stopped. The both of you pulled back.

But your heart never did.

"You know I asked for your mom to be my wingman."

"Please don't destroy this moment we have by mentioning my mom, Jenna. I'm serious."

Jenna chuckled, her eyes twinkling, "give her some credit. I never would've confessed to you without her."

You couldn't help but smile, realizing she was still the Jenna you fell in love with. "I guess, but I don't really want to talk about my mom after I just got stood up and then kissed the girl I love."

Jenna's chuckle turned into a soft giggle, her hand finding it's way to your palm as she intertwined her fingers with yours. "Also, for the record, that guy was an idiot."

You nodded after shared laughter. With everything that's going around between the two of you, you almost miss how Winona arrived just in time. Standing by the door with a smile on her face.

But even with Jenna's hand over yours, she'd still fall head over heels for you.

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

just some fuckass aftermath dialogues:

W: "You finally confessed." J: "Did she tell you?" W: "Well for one she's been awfully cheery and gave me a questioning I love you mom and offered me to go shopping with her."

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x femreader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

522 notes · View notes

hihimissamericanbi · 4 months

Text

FAVE HP SMUT CREATORS

Ever since I got that lovely anon asking for the best smut I've ever read, it got me thinking about some of my favorite smut creators in general.

So here is a very non-exhaustive list of fan-fucking-tastic smut writers and artists I've come across in the HP fandom that weren't mentioned (shamefully) in my last batch. Feel free to add to the list! We must keep the people fed.

xoxo go take a sip of cold water girl

WRITERS

@spookymoonie

Lord Espooky came into this fandom guns a-blazing with their kink headcanon a day for Wolfstar and it has spiraled from there. They GET IT. He has a super well-organized masterlist pinned to his tumblr ft tons of different kinks, fic lengths, scenes, etc. Go. Now.

@fiveht

The definition of IYKYK. Daddy kink isn't super my thing, but Five makes me enjoy it. If you vibe with age gap daddy Remus and pretty boy Sirius, their Adore series is a must-read. They also have a stellar A/B/O Wolfstar fic plus podfic and write some Marvel too!

@greenvlvetcouch

An absolute legend in this fandom. Wolfstar, Jeggy, Rosekiller. Gritty, chewy, embodied sex.

@emeryhall

Emery writes sex the way some people breathe. Like it's just part of the narrative. It's SO punchy. And also she is the queen of Crack Smut.

@kaaaaaaarf

Patron saint of Wolfstar hatefucks. mic drop.

@cancerravenclaw

We snagged MK over to Wolfstar from the clutches of Dramione. Her series "mk's kink exposé" could also be called "celine's kink exposé." I'll just leave that there.

@wolfpants

Everything they create is magic, but they are especially known for rare pairs and Dronarry.

WRITERS AND ARTISTS

@aspiring-artist-em

The queen of Lesbian Wolfstar. Both art and fic. Also queen of humiliation and pain kink and Walburga psychological trauma. ye be warned.

@upthehillnsfw / @upthehillart

I am afraid no one is ready for this art. Truly. Tons of different ships, positions, acts. I gasp every time. And their Pansmione fic is epic (which I have talked about before).

ARTISTS

@industrations

I highly recommend getting on Indi's Patreon so you can enjoy their NSFW drawings, mostly Wolfstar and Jegulus, occasional Rosekiller. Too many iconic moments to count.

@waxingrunes

The officially-sponsored artist of Five's Adore series. Look, their work is nothing short of indulgent. Shhhh don't worry about the physics just let it happen. And by It I mean Remus' big dick hands.

@basiatlu

By beloved. The one. The only. Bosh's drawings are so ALIVE. They leap off the screen. Her Drarry is nothing less than iconic. She also dabbles in other characters/ships like Wolfstar and Blackcest. Siriusly, you can't go wrong.

DRARRY SMUT

OKAY, Drarry people. There are so so many excellent Drarry smut writers it is impossible to name them all. Here are but a tiny handful I have pulled from my bookmarks. I'm happy to rec specific fics if asked :)

@cavendishbutterfly, @bixgirl1, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @shiftylinguini, @kbrick, @fluxweeed, @academicdisasterfic

I'm tagging those other creators from older asks because I can't put this list out there without them on it <3

@crushofdoves @we-are-swearwolves @tenthousandyearsx @theresthesnitch @lqtraintracks Quietlemonhush @cuddlebugsirius

#celine spills #celine's library #smut recs #hp smut #wolfstar smut #drarry smut #jegulus smut #HI FRIENDS i love you all #celine's flirting again #fic recs #hp fic recs #fan art #hp fanart #wolfstar art #drarry art #jegulus art

610 notes · View notes

y2xnjn · 8 months

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ racer!taehyun (nsfw 18+)

— a/n: this look will forever be iconic 😖 also i barely know anything about racing or cars, i'm so sorry if this is inaccurate

✧ racer!tyun x fem!reader, wc: 1.8k

✧ warnings: smut— MDNI! tyun is lowk cocky, car sex, unprotected sex, grinding, fingering, pet names, creampie

your heartbeat speeds up when you see the row of cars, each one at a different pace than the other but all so fast that the sound of the friction between the fast tires and the concrete road makes you wince for a split second. they all look like colors passing you by as you wait on the sidelines, cheers and screams on either side of you, people nearly toppling over each other to get a closer look. you watch as each carl crosses the finish line, so close to one another you’re unable to identify which one placed first until you hear your boyfriend’s name being announced on the megaphone, and your friends are cheering by your side.

catching taehyun’s eyes as he exits out of the black and red-striped car with an obnoxious slam of the car door and a cocky smile on his face as if he thinks he’s the best–cause he is–you attempt to run up to his side, sliding by the planted post, but a guard stops you, his large figure blocking your view.

“excuse me, miss. you can’t go up there,” he says, a snarky smirk on his face as he puts his hands right above your breasts to push you back, clearly delighted by the touch of your cleavage. you try to push his hands off of you, your friends also clearly disgusted by the sight as they try to pull you away, but he doesn’t budge, using the excuse that he’s just making sure the racers are safe from any ‘threats’. lucky for you, taehyun ignores the calls of his name by the judges who are ready to present him his award and makes his way towards you instead. he comes up behind the guard and pushes him out of the way, his body being significantly smaller in height, but still dominated by muscle, a result of his time at the gym.

"she's with me, dipshit." he glares at him, and he gladly moves to where he was standing before with an apologetic look on his face. taehyun takes your hand in his and leads you up to the podium with him. you roll your eyes at the way your girlfriends giggle and 'ooh' as he gives you a quick peck on your cheek. you reciprocate, squeezing his hand tighter, a way of saying your congratulations; of course there will be more later, but for now, this will do. he steps up on the podium, you wait at the bottom insisting this is his moment, and you don't want to intrude. taehyun says to come up with him almost every time he wins—many many times—claiming that the two of you are partners, and he can't do any of this without your support, but you know he should be given the chance to be his own entity in front of the world, and you're happy at the sidelines.

he grins when the award is placed in his hand, looking directly at you, and you show your look of endearment back until you see a cameraman waiting for him and gesture at him to look forward. he does, and many photos are taken with many people, many words of pride and cheers from his supporters, until he's finally free and leading the two of you away to his car. his own car is a beauty, a stunning blu abu dhabi ferrari 296 gtb, a gift to himself after winning a special race, and also, your favorite car of his because you love the way he gets relaxed and confident when he drives it.

the garage is dark, dimly lit by a few suspended light fixtures throughout, mostly emptied out due to the time, so taehyun takes this chance to press you against the door of his car. he places the trophy on the hood in a position where it won't fall—not that he cares if it does, he has many more— and tangles one hand in your hair while the other rests on your hip, his lips making their way to yours. he kisses you a few times until he travels down to your neck when you open your mouth to speak.

"tae, you did so well today," you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut when his thigh presses directly against your crotch.

"i always do well, baby." he speaks against your skin, breath warm and minty. "it's nothing new." you roll your eyes and sigh playfully, taehyun was always confident, and you admired it.

"i know, but i'm just—" he flexes his thigh cutting you off, and you feel his grin against your neck when you struggle to find your words. "i'm so proud of you—shit, you worked s-so hard, and you—you looked so, i can't— fuck, tyun."

the way he grinds his leg against you has you throwing your head back, eyes clenched shut because the muscle has somehow found the exact spot that has you whining and throbbing against him. your cotton panties barely covered by your miniskirt leaving you exposed to him, your arousal leaking on his leather pants. "aw, baby," he coos, but he sounds evil as he says it, "i know, and i appreciate you so much. my girl is always there for me, hm?"

the kisses on your neck halt as he looks up at the way you're already so fucked out, just from kissing and a few rocks of his thigh. taehyun grins at the sight, licking his lips and holding your face when you don't respond. "answer me." you nod eagerly, widening your doe eyes, wanting to show your full support. "wanna show me how proud you are?"

he moves away from you, a whine leaving your lips at the loss of his touch, but he opens the door to the front passenger seat and sits himself down, patting his thigh, his boba eyes looking up at you, waiting for you. you take a seat on his lap, somehow closer than before, and he closes the door, locking the door. you can barely see taehyun in the darkness of it all, but you can definitely feel him underneath you.

his lips return to yours, catching them in a quick breath, and his fingers trace up from your thighs to prod at your entrance. you gasp against his lips, and he groans at the wetness of the cloth at his fingertips before tugging it to the side and slipping two fingers inside you. you grab at his jacket and tug him closer, gripping it tightly while he thrusts his digits into you relentlessly. "tyun, please— can i ride you? wanna feel you."

"of course baby, lemme just— fuck, need you to cum on my fingers first," he watches the way you grind against his hand in mesmerization, obsessed with the way your arousal drips in between your legs on his expensive leather. taehyun tugs at your low cut top, revealing your breasts, and he hangs his head low to nip at the supple skin. he pumps into you faster, finding it a necessity to have you cum, and you finally do not long after, a whine of his name falling from your lips.

you find yourself unbuttoning his pants quickly, in a rush to have him inside you, as he finds his way back to your mouth, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. struggling to get his tight leather pants down his hips, wailing in desperation, he grabs your hands, putting them around his neck, and does it himself, pulling his cock out, hard as it slaps against his stomach. he throws his head back in relief, having been constrained in his underwear but snaps back up when he feels your folds rub at his tip, dripping down his shaft. he pulls your hips down, slowly taking him inch by inch as you wince at the stretch of his length filling up your walls. taehyun groans, a grip on your hips as you sink onto him. "fuck, my girl is so tight. so wet and warm—shiitt."

once he bottoms out inside you, his hips tightly pressed against your, he sighs loudly, bucking his hips up into you. you nearly topple over, having to grab his shoulders to balance yourself until you're able to move. you roll onto him, a slow grind contrasting with your hurried movements from earlier. the angle, the intimacy, the expensiveness of it all has you enjoying it all more, loud moans slipping out with every movement. his eyes zone in on where the two of you meet, loving the wet sounds that are produced. "baby’s so proud of me, she's leaking all over my seats,” he shakes his head, “how dirty."

you frown, knowing he paid a lot for this car, and you’re spoiling it, tears well up in your eyes, and you mindlessly sniffle out apologies. “don’t worry, baby. i would buy a thousand cars just to fuck you in each one,” his words are spoken against your chest, and your back arches when his hips thrust into a certain spot, his teeth scraping your and adding to the stimulation. his jacket being clawed at by your fingers, needing something to maintain the rise and fall of your body on his length.

"soso full tyun, i— fuck, s-so good—you're fucking me so good," you cry out, spurring him on. he lifts you up and lays your head on his dashboard, taking over and pounding into you with a new angle that has you losing your mind. his hand crawls up your back, and finds its way in your hair pulling it back to reveal your flushed neck, filled with his marks. he leans forward to make more, the zipper of his jacket brushing against your hardened nipples, making you squeal.

"you know i think about you when im racing? thinking about how good i get to fuck you when i'm done. how fast i'd give it to you, and it just makes me go faster." you whine at his words, getting close to your climax.

"i'm close, tyun. please fill me up."

"yeah? want me to make an even bigger mess? " he lets go of your hair, reaching down to circle your clit, pushing you over the edge as you tighten around him. "gonna smell you all over my car, baby." he twitches inside you, the feeling of you clenching unable to ignore, and releases, his fluids leaking out to join yours on the chair. taehyun pulls your limp body back up against him, pulling out with a wince and tucking himself back into his pants. "we should make this a ritual."

his words bring you back, and you look up at him with sleepy eyes and a tired smile. "what, you fuck me every time you win?" he nods, delight on his face, and he gathers tissues from the center compartment and cleans the two of you up— starting with his seats. "no thanks, tyun. you almost always win, my legs will give out one day." he gives you a sweet kiss, a giggle attached to it.

"that's okay, i'll just drive you around everywhere myself."

#txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt fic #taehyun smut #taehyun fic #taehyun x reader #taehyun hard thoughts #txt imagines #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #🪷.clio's works #🪷.taehyun

1K notes · View notes

drchucktingle · 4 months

Text

queer horror memory lane

i know this screenshot above is just way of some algorithm but seeing these books together i am so honored youve allowed me to open my heart and trot out my art in this unique way. having two well received queer horror books (and third on way) is amazing given where i started my trot. thank you

easy to talk on 'death of unique art' these days but if you look at my story it is powerful example that buckaroos have a taste for challenging or untraditional figures in art. this is NOT to my credit, this is to YOUR credit. YOU have supported queer autistic art. i am so moved

i am already a pretty optimistic bud but still BLOWN AWAY by way my trot has been embraced over time. i recognize my perspective is 'strange' to many but to see the way this unique way was once treated with irony and now sincerity has bloomed in its place. it brings tears of joy

as i trot down my QUEER HORROR memory lane i am going to repost TRAILER for each book just because i have been basking in these memories and recalling the slow embrace of this timeline around me. thank you for allowing me this space i am so humbled and honored. LOVE IS REAL

STRAIGHT

When a strange tear in the cosmos appears within Earth’s annual path, the consequences are disastrous. For one night a year, the vast majority of humans now undergo a frightening mental change, transforming into hateful, rage-fueled zombies who will stop at nothing to satiate their desire for brutality.

While not much is understood about this horrific mass hysteria, the demographic it effects is very specific: cisgender straight people.

A few years after the first of these tragic events, four friends from across the queer spectrum look for safety in solitude, hunkering down in a remote desert cabin for what is now known as Saturation Day. With a vaccine available for straight people to curb their violent episodes, some predict the worst is over. Others aren’t so sure.

As night falls, it becomes clear that survival isn’t guaranteed this Saturation Day.

GET STRAIGHT HERE

youtube

CAMP DAMASCUS

From beloved internet icon Chuck Tingle, Camp Damascus is a searing and earnest horror debut about the demons the queer community faces in America, the price of keeping secrets, and finding the courage to burn it all down. Welcome to Neverton, Montana: home to a God-fearing community with a heart of gold. Nestled high up in the mountains is Camp Damascus, the self-proclaimed “most effective” gay conversion camp in the country. Here, a life free from sin awaits. But the secret behind that success is anything but holy. And they’ll scare you straight to hell.

GET CAMP DAMASCUS HERE

youtube

BURY YOUR GAYS

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell.

But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale.

Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles.

Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future―before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS HERE

youtube

i am blessed by your support, your love, and your kindness. cannot believe how lucky i am to trot with you in all in this way and i cant WAIT to see what the future of this timeline holds for us. thank you for proving love with me from the past to the future

#queer horror #horror #tingleverse #lgbtqia #straight #camp damascus #bury your gays #chuck tingle #love is real #Youtube

464 notes · View notes

lem0nademouth · 2 years

Text

things heartstopper does brilliantly because i refuse to let some of you monsters ruin it for everyone

1. models healthy consent practices!! oh my goodness!! asking to kiss, double checking that consent is enthusiastic, being honest about moments that lacked consent (see: b*n h*pe and imogen asking out nick). later in the books we get even more amazing examples of consent being an ongoing conversation!!

2. the teenagers act their age!! they’re awkward, they’re confused, they’re unsure of themselves, they are PLAYED BY YOUNG ACTORS!!! it’s realistic and beautiful and doesn’t set unreasonable expectations for viewers like almost every other show about high schoolers

3. SUPPORTIVE PARENTS!!! all of the parents we have met so far have been loving, supportive, compassionate, and patient. it’s so nice to have multiple queer and trans characters who are embraced by their parents and their friend’s parents from the beginning. and tao’s mom is an icon.

4. safe people and places!! the characters have trusted adults like mr. ajayi and mrs. singh and safe places like the art room that they can go to when things are rough. it models healthy support network building and healthy coping skills!!!

5. all the ways you can come out and be out!! it tells a beautiful “coming out isn’t always easy and it’s never the end of the journey” story without making coming out seem like a disaster waiting to happen. yes, charlie was outed - and people still jumped to his aid even before nick came around. no one pressures nick to come out (a major story arc some of y’all clearly didnt pay attention to) and they tell him it’s fine if he doesn’t know what to label his sexuality if he even wants to label it at all.

6. LETTING. BOYS. CRY. oh my god it’s so refreshing to see a show where boys get to cry instead of punching walls. and not once does someone tell them crying makes them less masculine. no one tells anyone to stop crying. they’re allowed to be emotional and it’s wonderful.

7. affection. i adore the way this show portrays all the small ways you can say “i love you”: a homemade picture frame, buying your apple juice every day, waiting until you’re ready, taking you to the beach, bringing over cookies for movie night, bringing their dog to the date to cheer you up, running over in the rain, punching someone in the face for you.

feel free to add more!!! i just want to highlight the best parts of this show + graphic novel series because it really is a masterpiece. i hope kit (and the rest of the cast and crew) knows that he’s doing a good job - a great job - and that no one else’s shitty behavior can change that.

4K notes · View notes

lesbianralzarek · 1 year

Text

tumblr in reddit terms

blogs: personal subreddits where the theme/topic is 99% of the time just “me and whatever the hell i feel like at the moment”. for reference, the most common other theme rn is “wizard roleplay that never breaks character”

reblogs: crossposts. these are crucial to maintaining tumblr’s ecosystem. due to blogs generally having fewer followers than subreddits have subscribers, this is the way that posts get seen and passed around. the vast majority of posts on a person’s blog tend to be reblogs, so if the people you follow dont reblog a whole lot, your dashboard is gonna be a ghost town. post limit (combined total of reblogs and original posts per day) is 250, so feel free to go hog wild

tags: this one is complicated. theyre a combination of flairs and Comments But Low-key. you can use them for organization and to avoid seeing content you dont want to (go to your blog, settings, account settings, content you see, and then add tags you want tumblr to warn you about before seeing it). if op tags the post #reddit (in the tags, not the body of the post), itll show up in the #reddit tag when anyone searches that tag. tags are also used for comments that dont really add anything to the post. you know how a jpeg gets kinda gross when its been through a million screenshots and has ifunny watermarks and shit? thats what adding “lmao same” as a comment does to a post. comments stay on reblogs, while tags show up in 4 places: op’s notifications, the notifs of whoever you reblogged it from, when someone clicks on the “notes” button of a post and actively looks for the tags left on it, and when people view your specific reblog of the post (like a follower would on their dashboard)

likes: upvotes but weaker. almost everyone turns off all the algorithms (settings, account settings, dashboard preferences, toggle off the first 3 options. also, make sure your dashboard is on "following" and not "for you". this is highly recommended), so leaving a like doesnt boost the post in any way. they still matter to some people. you can also use them to bookmark a post and go back to your likes later

enthusiastic and/or hyperbolic tags: reddit gold. you wanna let op know you like their art? leave something like ”#printing this out and stapling it to my forehead #op you wanna get married?” in the tags

pornbots: both reddit and tumblr have an issue with them. we block and report them on sight. they usually have hot women as their icons, no posts or reblogs, and a description like “22, brazil, nurse <3″. try to not look like that if you dont wanna get blocked by everyone you follow

blocking: you have this as well, but it seems like a bigger deal on reddit. the reason we are not twitter is because we block bitches who annoy us and move on with our day. do not feed the trolls

things we dont have:

karma: clout-chasing is The Most embarrassing thing you can possibly do on this site. we are all in this circus together and the clown who gets the most laughs is still a clown. popular users will literally deactivate sometimes because clout is a burden. no one here makes money

#reddit #reddit migration #tumblr guide #lemme know if you have any questions btw. happy to help

1K notes · View notes

slavghoul · 10 months

Text

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

745 notes · View notes

aliidarling · 1 month

Text

the less i know the better pt. 2

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader x DARYL DIXON

part 1

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: everything is fun but then u try and run away... they arent very happy :(

tags: nsfw obvi, p in v, forced entry kinda, double penetratrion, degrading, humiliation, anal, throat-fucking, creampie, manipulation, face slapping, mean rick and daryl, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap...)

nsfw content below !!

They kidnapped you. Were you really gonna let them Stockholm syndrome you into staying? That would be pathetic-- Plus, Negan would kill you. He’s probably already sending other soldiers out to find out where you were. You hoped he wouldn’t be on your ass about your disappearance when you got back.

Because you would get back. You’d make sure of it. It didn’t matter if they were so gentle with their hands and how they kissed you. In the end, they were from Alexandria and Negan wanted them dead.

You tried to keep these thoughts in mind as you swiftly snuck out of the house, light on your toes. You held your breath. It was late at night in Alexandria, the streets empty, and the subtle sounds of zombies gnarling outside of the walls the only thing audible for miles.

It was chilly. You hugged your thin jacket around you a little tighter, glancing around cautiously. You carefully walked towards the back of a few houses. After being here for some time, you had managed to pick up on some clues and hints on how to get out of here.

Just a few days ago you came across Carl and Enid sneaking out of the gates by climbing it and dropping down onto the other side. You thought it was dangerous, but anything to get out of here, right.

Placing a foot on the gate and your hand on one of the ridges, you started to shakily climb it. You felt the small creaking noises, making your heart thud.

Don’t fall, don’t fall, you thought to yourself. Being found dead after sneaking off would be very embarrassing.

You had barely climbed a few feet when someone’s hard grip clasped around your ankle and yanked you down aggressively, making you let out a loud high-pitched squeak.

The man manhandled you over his shoulder. You heard his grunt and immediately knew who it was, even if all you could see was his back. You struggled over his shoulder, thrashing.

“Let— Let me go!” You screech.

“Shut the hell up.” He growls darkly, slapping your ass as a way to silence you. Your squeak makes his grip harden, and he turns towards his house and starts walking.

“You’re so ungrateful.” Rick says lowly. His voice sends shivers down your spine. You had never heard him sound so mean. He had his moments in the last few weeks where he had gotten angry with you, yes, but you could tell this was different.

“You kidnapped me!” You yelled back in defense, scoffing at his audacity. You thrashed harder, kicking your feet and trying to get free of his hold. You manage to kick him in the gut, which makes him brutally slap your thigh after he lets out a grunt.

“Shut the fuck up, you have no idea what you’re in for. I’ve been treating you so nice, so gentle, and you go off and do this shit?!”

You glared at his back. “You forced me to submit to you and Daryl!”

“Like hell we did, all we did was shove a few fingers into that tiny cunt and you were moaning for us. We didn’t even have to sweet talk you, you’re just a slut at heart who’s depraved of male validation.”

Ouch.

You go silent as his words echo in your head, his vulgar language making you squirm slightly over his shoulder. Rick being the man he is, immediately notices and speeds up his walk, nearing his lawn.

“God, of course, you’re getting off on this.” He groans in annoyance. “I could beat the shit out of you and you’d be into it.” He snickers meanly. “Maybe I should.”

You let out a whine, wiggling some more. He enters his house and throws you down on his couch. He walks off to his coat rack, takes off his iconic brown jacket, tugs at his shirt collar, and sighs lowly. He swore, you were making him grow more grey hairs, and he wasn’t even that old yet!

“You’re stressing your old man out, sweetheart.” He coos mockingly, a dark glare being cast your way. You flinch and shrink on the couch, hugging your flimsy jacket around you.

“You deserve it.” You grumble. He rolls his eyes.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He mumbles.

Just a few minutes later Daryl comes barging through the door, his body language pissed. You stiffen in discomfort as his eyes come straight to yours.

“I’m sorry—“ You squeak quickly, but you’re silenced by Rick smacking your cheek. You yelp, clutching your cheek with a shocked look as you gaze up at the two men.

They both stare down at you with scowls and crossed arms.

“How far did she get?” Daryl grumbles, turning to Rick and giving you a stinky side-eye. You grimace.

“The gate—“ You start, only to get bonked harshly by Rick once again.

“Did he ask you? I don’t think so.” He glared. “Now shut the hell up, girl.” They both turn away and start exchanging whispers and growls. They were both pissed at you, you could tell. You didn’t know what to do.

After another few minutes, they both slowly turn to you again. This time, a different glint was in their eyes. One you recognized. You shivered as you started to lean back slightly, your frown deepening. They notice and snicker in amusement, Rick coming to grab your shoulders and push you down onto the floor.

You yelp loudly, your knees knocking against the floor as you stumble and land on your hands and knees.

“Stop it, that hurts!” You pout, leaning your weight on your thighs as you sit on your heels. Rick grabs your hands and pulls them behind you. You squirm in discomfort.

“Ouch.” You grumble. Daryl walks in front of you and starts unbuckling his belt. Your eyes widen, and in seconds you’re face to face with his large bulge. You gulp nervously, looking up at him through his lashes.

“You want me to…”

“Yeah, ya’ stupid bitch, it ain’t that hard. C’mon.” He huffs. You resist rolling your eyes at his language, frowning up at him before looking back down at the bulge shoved in your face.

You attempt to pull your hands from Rick to pull his boxers down, but his grip on your wrists tightens.

“How the hell do you expect me to suck you off when I can’t even move?!” You say with an exaggerated tone. This was so damn annoying. You couldn’t give the man the blowjob he was asking for because of him and he was getting angry?

“Figure it out,” Rick says from behind you. You hear the sound of Ricks's belt unbuckling, and the feeling of hard leather wrapping around your wrist.

“This is not fair, at all—“ You whine loudly as you squirm and tug at the restraint, your face still shoved in his boxers. You yelp when you find yourself getting slapped by Daryl. Your bottom lip trembles as you look up at him. That was mean.

“Shut up before I force it down your throat, lil’ girl. Now use your teeth to pull down mah’ boxers, hmm? Or are you too stupid to do that?” He scoffs, his hands coming to grab at the sides of your face and press your nose into the fabric of his boxers.

Your nose scrunches up as he does this, a frown painting your expression. You hesitantly bite at the waistband, struggling but eventually managing to pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out.

“You don’t have to be so mean about it.” You mutter to yourself, leaning closer and giving his tip a little kiss. His breath hitched, a snigger leaving his throat.

“Ya’ think you deserve gentle treatment after that stunt you jus’ pulled?” Daryl glanced at Rick with a look in his eyes, seeking approval for something. Rick, who was now kneeling behind you and starting to unbutton your jeans, nodded.

Before you could speak another word, Daryl’s large hands cup your head and start to push it down on his cock. “Lips around teeth, yeah, just like that, now c’mon, nice and easy, don’t want you to puke all over my cock.” He mumbles, eyes narrowing as he sees his cock slowly disappear into your mouth.

Your protests all go muffled as you feel him filling your mouth, your gag reflex having your nose scrunch and eyes water. Rick from behind you starts to shove his hand down your pants, rubbing at your thin panties. You let out a surprised yelp at the feeling, which makes Daryl groan at the vibration.

“Oh yeah, see— I knew you were just a lil’ cock hungry, now you got cock down your fuckin’ throat and you’re all better, right? Not gonna run away anymore, right? Shake your head for me, baby.” He coos mockingly as he starts to bob your head up and down forcefully.

Tears well up more as you give him a shaky nod, barely holding it together as you feel his head hit the back of your throat. You start to gag.

Rick from behind you stops his rubbing on your clothed-pussy and whispers in your ear, his hand coming to rub your throat.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Relax your throat.” He hums. You try your best to relax, squeezing your eyes shut as some gags leave you. Eventually, you relaxed enough for Daryl to start thrusting his cock into your mouth smoother, back and forth.

Daryl throws his head back, groaning at the way your throat hugged his cock.

“Jesus Christ, fuckin’— throat is like a vice.” He scoffs, his eyes barely open as he starts to thrust more hard. Your body squirms but is immediately held back down by Rick. His hands shove themselves back down your pants, going to rub at your clit.

While Daryl uses your mouth like a glory hole, Rick is snickering at how wet you are. His fingers glide across your panties towards the damp spot. You flinch at the contact and try to pull away from his wandering hands, blushing intensely.

Daryl’s grip on your head tightens as he feels you squirm. He somehow forced his cock deeper, making you let out a muffled cry. Tears stream down your cheeks at the intrusion in your throat, being fucked relentlessly.

Eventually, he cums in your mouth and pulls back with a low groan. He stares down at you, pumping his semi-hard on in front of your panting face. You use this time to breathe in deeply, trying to grab onto every breath of air you can take.

“No more, please—“ You whimper, blinking up at him. He doesn’t listen to you and pumps himself for a few more seconds before finishing all over your face again. You gasp as his cum squirts onto your expression, your nose scrunching up. You shrivel up, mouth twitching.

Rick holds back a laugh at how pathetic you look. He turns to the side to grab a towel, handing it to you with a condescending pat on the head.

“That was just humiliating, man.” He shoves Daryl’s shoulder, the both of them staring at you. You sat on the floor on your knees, drying the cum and tears off your face as you tremble, coughing every few seconds.

“Girl deserved it.” Daryl huffs. He glanced at you, Rick, and then motioned towards you. Rick smiles and nods. He quickly comes up to you, picking you up by your armpits. You yelp, dropping your towel and squirming. He picked you up so easily.

“Hey—“ You weakly protest before getting silenced by the large man carrying you. They both drag you into Rick's bedroom, setting you down on the bed.

You barely have time to do anything before their hands are all over you, Rick pulling your jeans and panties down in one go while Daryl’s sticky hands grasp your chin and pull you in for a kiss. You’re being manhandled and fondled, squirming and trying to pull away before eventually kissing back.

Rick's hands pull down his jeans, a large bulge in his boxers. The view of your throat getting brutally fucked must have made him hard, no surprise about that.

Daryl sits himself against the headboard, his large hand pumping his now fully hard cock, his other hand patting his lap.

“Bring er’ here, facing me. Wanna see that pretty face.” He says. Rick plops you down onto Daryl’s lap. You had forgotten about the belt around your wrists, but when you attempted to tug at your hands to wrap them around Daryl’s neck, you were pleasantly surprised. You grimaced.

“I’ve been good, c’mon, just untie me, please.” You attempted to plead with puppy eyes, feeling Rick from behind you grab your shirt and bunch it above your chest. He wasn’t able to fully pull it off because of your wrists so he just compromised.

“Shut up before we gag you.” Rick scoffs. He sits behind you, his hands coming to spread your legs.

“Should I use lube?” Rick says to Daryl. Daryl blinks before grumbling.

“Yeah, don’t wanna tear her ass apart.” He snickers.

Your heart drops as you start to squirm and protest..

“W-Wait, what? You’re not going in my ass! Please don’t!” You whine. Daryl grabs your head and shoves it into his chest, your voice going muffled. You let out a cry as he uses his hand to raise your hips and position your pussy above his hips, sliding you down gently. He shushes your whimpers and cries as you feel your walls get stretched out without prep.

The only lube provided was your natural slickness, and in the end, even with how wet you were, you were no match for his girth. Your thighs tensed as he slowly bottomed out inside your tight cunt. His head leans back against the headboard with a heavy sigh, blissed out from how snug you were wrapped around him.

Tears come back from the burn in your lower body, trembling. Your voice shakes, pleading quietly as Rick behind you spreads your butt cheeks and prods at your pucker. You flinch and curl into Daryl’s chest, shaking. He giggled and brushed his hand through your hair, his other hand holding your hips down.

“Don’t—“ You’re silenced by Daryl’s lips on your own. Your protests are muffled as you lean into the kiss slightly, your wrists sore from the harsh restraints.

“Tight fuckin’ ass,” Rick grumbles from behind you. You hear something squirt, before yelping when something cold is pressed against your pucker. You shudder, pussy tightening around Daryl, making him groan in ecstasy.

“Don’t make er’ cry even more, as cute as it was we don’t wanna damage any internal bits.” Daryl snickers against your lips. You whine.

“How about you just don’t go in my—“ You’re silenced by the feeling of a thick cock starting to enter your tight hole, eyes widening in the pain. You squeal loudly, trying not to sob from the pain but failing. You had never had anything in that hole, and now there was a man behind you forcing himself deep into it.

“Good girl, just take it, you deserve this.” Daryl hushes you gently as you mewl from the stretch, your body tensing. Rick groans from behind you, his hands tight around your waist, holding you down as he slowly but surely bottoms out.

Once he’s fully buried inside you, they go still, watching as you sniffle and let out tiny cries. You were shaking from the intrusion, lips pressed together tightly as you did your best not to let out any sobs. You failed. Being stuffed with two cocks in both holes, front and behind, was overwhelming and you had no idea how to even cope with something like this. The last time you even had intercourse with someone was months ago— and it was some smelly Negan lackey who was looking to get his dick wet, and you were just really desperate for relief.

Rick's hands massage your waist tenderly, humming into your ear as he feels your tight hole clench down on him. He lets out a raspy groan, readjusting his hips with a little shift and making you yelp at the friction. He holds back a laugh.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He cooed mockingly, grinning at Daryl. They both stared at your shaky body, before tightening their grips and starting to slowly thrust. Your eyes widened at the feeling of them both sliding in and out simultaneously. Your eyes squeeze shut as your lips fall agape, producing moans at how full you feel. Each time one would pull out, the other would shove themselves to the hilt.

“You’re not gonna run away, ya’? You love these cocks too much, stupid lil’ slut.” You couldn't even tell which one was saying what anymore, your brain all mushy and your body like putty in their hands. You let an incoherent cry in response. They both chuckle.

“She's braindead, what a dumb little bitch.” Daryl laughs at you as he starts to thrust harder up into your cunt, humming happily at the sounds he was forcing you to produce. He tightens his hold on you so he can have more leverage, leaning back and groaning. It felt so good. The other man behind you grabs the back of your head, pulling your hair back as his thrusts start to gain speed.

Soon enough, both of them were making you sob from pleasure as they wrecked you, battering your insides from every angle. Rick had his hand wrapped around you to rub at your clit, the other one holding your hips firmly.

Daryl passionately kissed you, groaning as he thrust upwards into your dripping hole, his hands fondling your breasts roughly. He pulled and tugged at your nipples, making your arch deepen.

“Oh, o-oh, please, I’m gonna—“ You choked out, tears painting your flushed cheeks, tugging weakly at your restraint. Rick pulled at your hair harder, groaning at how your walls tightened around him.

“You wanna cum? Hmm? Promise you won’t be a stupid brat and try to run away again?” He sneers, pressing his chest firm against your back, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his cock twitching as he felt his orgasm start to near.

Your words were sloppy itself, whimpering incoherent rambles of words, desperate for a release.

“Y-Yes— Yes— p-promise!” You whined into Daryl’s chest, sobbing and shaking as they held you tightly and smothered you with their bodies. You were sandwiched completely, full, and happy.

“We find you running away again, we’ll slut you out for hours and force our cocks in every hole you have, got it? Don’t be an idiot, nod like a good girl.” Daryl huffs, pushing your head into his chest and silencing your moans and sobs. Your dumb little noises and pleas have them both snickering.

“C’mon then girl, we don’t got all day.”

Rick's fingers rubbing at your clit intensely, Daryl twisting your nipples, and their cocks shoved so deep in you eventually have you clenching down and spasming around them. You cum hard on Daryl’s cock with a loud mix of a cry and moan, quivering.

Just shortly after, they both finish in you, watching their juices drip out of your abused holes as they slowly pull out. Their eyes flicker to your face and how you were completely limp, lying on Daryl’s chest for support.

“Good girl, baby, took us so well. We’re so proud of ya’.” Daryl gently wraps his arms around you, smiling darkly at how they both ruined you. He motions to Rick to grab a pair of clothes and a towel for you.

Seconds later, Rick carefully took you from Daryl’s arms. He scooped you up and sat you down on the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs with a pat and wiping you off with a bathroom towel.

“How ya’ feeling?” Rick hums softly, smiling at you. It was like a complete switch from how they were just brutally fucking you.

“Tired.” You mumble lamely.

You hear a small chuckle leave both of them. Daryl gets off the bed to pull his clothes back on, but not before untying your wrists and pressing a sweet kiss to your red bruise. You frown as you gently rub your sore wrists, wincing.

“Sorry sweetheart, but that’s what you get when you decide to be all brave and run. But you learned your lesson, didn’t you?” Rick says sweetly. You smile weakly and mutter a shaky, “Yes sir.”, before raising your hands when he says so.

He slides one of his cotton tee shirts onto you. He smiles at the adorable sight of you and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a small kiss. He then squished your cheeks as you let out a little whine, pressing kisses all over your soft skin and nose.

“Let’s get ya’ in bed, probably so tired. Poor baby.” He whispers softly to you, tugging on one of his pair of boxers before picking you up once again, carrying you to his bed, and tucking you in.

You lay there still, frowning as you were babied by the two men. You didn’t know what to say. You liked the feeling of them taking care of you, but the reminder of the situation you were in sent goosebumps down your back. They had kidnapped you and forced you to stay with them.

This was so fucked up. But what could you do? A part of you was starting to like them.

“Goodnight, baby.” Daryl ruffles your hair, climbing into the bed and nuzzling his face into your chest. Rick spoons you from behind, his legs tangled with yours.

“Night.” You say quietly, with no energy to speak up.

You had nowhere to run.

guys can u tell i’ve never had it up my ass

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon x reader #rick and daryl #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #daryl dixion imagine

212 notes · View notes