#forgot his last name forgive me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 7 months

Note

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

6K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 9 months

Text

Margaritas and Mistakes pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Genre: Smut, just filth really, nothing else. 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Summary: The morning after your night out you wake up and have to come face-to-face with the consequences of your actions. You find you quite enjoy those consequences though.

Warnings: Suggestive BDSM themes, soft!Dom Spencer (I'm a simple woman), daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), vaginally sex, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, degradation, name-calling, pet names (baby girl, princess etc.), unprotected sex (no creampie).

A/N: Here's the much anticipated part two for yesterday's fic. Thank you for being patient everyone, and sorry to tease you all by having this completely written before pt 1 was even published but sometimes the anticipation only makes it better lol... Hope you will forgive me 🙏 ALSO! I hit 300 followers on this account yesterday, and I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported my writing here thus far! I can't do anything to celebrate as I'm on holiday for the next few days but thank you so much ♥️

Check out Part One!

Requests are open, and in the meantime please check out my masterlist!

When you woke up; that morning, you could instantly feel something was different. Not wrong, just different.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, in fact the way the quilts laid on top of you kept you almost deliciously warm in your bed. It wasn’t the general mess of the night before either, as, surveying the room with one half cracked eye, you noted that all your discarded clothes seemed to be either neatly stacked away in the corner or perhaps left in the laundry hamper in your bathroom. The curtains were open, which you guess was somewhat of a change, but you honestly forgot to close them at least twice a week, so that wasn’t what it was.

You left out a quick yawn and decided whatever it was wasn’t as important as sleeping off the absolute killer headache that was currently burning a hole in the back of your head, a constant thumping that you wanted to do your best to avoid for now.

It was when you snuggled back into your sheets and attempted to turn over to find a new position that you realised exactly what it was that was wrong. You weren’t alone.

Cursing yourself for drinking so much you stayed as still as possible, as the man in bed next to you groaned in his sleep and seemed to pull you in tighter to his chest. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you couldn’t help the panic forming in your mind, as you absolutely had no recollection of bringing anyone home.

Scratch that, you had no recollection of getting home yourself at all.

Whoever it was, it was evident that he’d at least somewhat taken care of you. You couldn’t feel the mascara you’d worn last night glueing your eyelids shut, so obviously one of you had had the foresight to remove your makeup, and you honestly doubted it was you. The fact that you were wearing pyjamas, too, was probably a more positive sign. If you did have sex with the man, he’d most likely encouraged you to put clothes back on so you didn’t catch a chill in the night.

And boy did you hope that you had gotten lucky with whoever it was at your back last night. You couldn’t see his face obviously, with your back pressed up against his entire body, but you could feel him and he felt delicious.

He was long, and lean, but you could feel some strong muscles underneath as well. Even in sleep, he had a strong grip on your waist, the pressure of it pulling you back so your ass was directly in line with his crotch. You were almost tempted to shift slightly, to see if it’d give you a few more ideas about who your mystery man could be.

The best thing about him, thus far, however, was his scent. You knew that after drinking all of the alcohol you remembered ordering last night - and perhaps more that you didn’t remember - you absolutely didn’t smell that hot. And after a night of partying and dancing, too, you could almost feel the winter sweat sticking to your skin. Your bedmate, however, smelt absolutely fucking amazing. He had a musky, earthy scent, but it didn’t seem artificial. It felt warm and homely and all you wanted to do was turn around and nuzzle into his neck so you could breathe him indeeply.

But you had no fucking clue who this was, and you were coming up with blanks as to where you could’ve picked him up.

“Think, Y/N, think for once,” you whispered to yourself, chastising yourself for going shot for shot with Emily of all people.

You remembered being in Penelope’s apartment listening to Emily talk about her love of chardonnay, and you remembered the girls promising to find you a man that night. They’d obviously succeeded, but at the cost of your entire memory of the situation.

You thought a little harder again, back to sitting at the table and your stupid little game of fuck, marry, kill where you’d amitted your growing attraction to your office’s resident genius, and then downing a probably near fatal amount of shots to inspire your friends to forget they heard anything, and then… And then it all goes blank.

So you had no clues as to who your mystery man could be, and you didn’t want to risk waking him just to find out. In a last ditch effort, you cracked your eyes open again and reached out for your phone, sitting prettily on your nightstand, plugged in and charging. Whoever this man was, he was a saint, because if you couldn’t remember getting through the door, you definitely didn’t put your own phone on charge.

Trying not to stretch too much, you grabbed the phone and bought it as close to you as possible, shielding your bedmate from the light coming out of it. You immediately opened the messages, and your stomach dropped at what was waiting for you there.

Emily: I TOLF U I WAS A GR8 WING WOMAN!!1! When you two make baby ggeniuses, dont say I dind’t tell you so.

Penelope: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which is admittedly not a lot, but still!!!

JJ: Remember to take advil in the morning, I’m sure Reid will remind you as well, but you drank a lot tonight, and you never know when we’re going to get called in 🙂

The messages didn’t give you much of the context you needed, especially the ones sent by Penelope and Emily, but there was enough there to work out that you had majorly fucked up. And the sound of his groans from next to your ear told you that you only had around thirty seconds before your theory was tested and your mystery man woke up.

“Mornin’” came the voice from behind you, and if it were possible your heart started beating even faster. It was him.

“Reid! Good morning!” You tried to keep the curiosity and anxiety out of your voice, as you finally turned over to look at him. His sleepy face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. His hair fell in small waves into his face and you had to stop yourself from brushing it behind his ear for him. There was a five o’clock shadow forming on his face that you’d never seen before and the scruff really suited him. His most distracting feature, however, was his lack of shirt. And the many small love bites that were now forming on his neck.

“How’s your head this morning? I was going to try to get you to take something for it last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh my head? It’s fine, totally fine. Nothing to worry about there. Totally not pounding.” You groan and he cracks a smile at your attempt to downplay your self-injury. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer somehow, and you almost panic, ready to place your hands on his chest and push him away, but you’re not quite ready to admit that you don’t remember exactly what you did or didn’t do the night before so instead you push your hands up to his neck and play with his hair.

“Are you going to ask or do you remember?” He smirks down at you, rubbing small comforting circles into your back. You let out a small sigh, a goodbye to those few blissfully peaceful moments.

“Ask what? Ask if I remember climbing into bed with my coworker and leaving some quite pretty marks on his neck or ask if I actually got further than my fantasies have in the last month?” You trace your hand down his neck, stopping at a rather red patch where you can still see some trace of your lipstick from the night before.

“Ask whether or not I’m going to be fair and tell you what actually happened, or keep you in the dark and let your imagination keep running wild.” He lifts his body up, and rests on his side, his arm propping his head up.

You make a sound of protest and attempt to follow his movement but his free hand holds your hips down with a soft pressure, holding you there less with strength and more with the weight of your own curiosity at whatever it is his body is suggesting.

“You begged me last night you know,” he starts, leaning down and whispering it directly into your ear. “To stay. To fuck you like a desperate little whore.” Your legs pushed together now, a sorry attempt to curb the growing need pooling between them, but he didn’t let up.

“You pushed me down on the bed when I didn’t do what you wanted, like a little brat. So drunk out of your mind that I couldn’t touch you, but begging for it like you would die if I didn’t hold you down and let you scream my name.” The hand on your hip moved up and under your pajama shirt, a rather flimsy thing that did nothing to stop his oncoming conquest of your body.

“You made me promise something, you know?” He says just as his hand reaches one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, as you throw open your mouth in a near silent gasp. Your hips buck involuntarily, and suddenly one of his legs is between yours, pinning you down again so you can’t move as he keeps his attention on your chest.

“Made me promise I would stay and not let you forget. Promise that, when you woke up in the morning, I’d fill you in on everything you did, everything you asked for.” He keeps his voice as low as a whisper and you can feel his breath on your neck, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, arching your back and pushing your breasts further into his hand.

“S-Spencer-” you beg with just that one word for more. But he stills his hand and moves it out from under your top.

“But if you remember, then we’re finished here right. I can go?” He looks down at you, pouting now and you hesitate for a second before answering him.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything, so please…” you don’t quite know what you’re begging for at that point, but if you’d filled him in on any of the jucier details of your fantasies as of late, then you were in for a very fun morning.

He shifted his weight again, this time pushing your hips together, and holding his chest up with his arms stacked on either side of your head, you looked up at him again as one of his hands came down and encouraged your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him to push even more of his weight down into you.

His head moved back to your ear as he began rocking his hips tantalisingly slowly into yours, dry humping into you.

“At first, you didn’t even know it was me. Just fell back into whatever body you thought would pay you the most attention. Rocked yourself back into me on the dancefloor, right where anyone else could see what a little whore you were being.” Despite the layers of clothing that separated you and the torturious pace, you felt your arousal growing by the second as you listened to him recounting the events of the prior night.

“And even when you realised it was me you didn’t fucking stop. Kept teasing me and playing with me in public, in front of our friends.” He growled a little bit then, obviously still angry about your actions the night before. You were bucking your hips up to match his movements now, teetering close to the edge of an orgasm. He hadn’t even really touched you yet, and you were like putty in his hand, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wanted you in.

“I drove you home, kept my hands off you, I was perfectly ready to let you forget the entire thing, but you couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you.” His hand was on your ass now, encouraging you to keep up your pace and deepening the contact between the two of you. You could feel his entire length pressed into you, and you wanted it inside you.

“Told me you wanted me to slam you against a wall and finger-fuck you, wanted to be my cheap little whore, wanted me to use you,” he groaned into your ear and bit down on your neck a second later, and you moaned, the pain and pleasure mixing together deliciously.

And then he stopped, pulled away and rolled off of you, and you cried out at the loss of contact when you were so close to your release.

“What is it, baby? You want more?” He smirked from his new position, sat up on the opposite side of the bed, just far enough out of reach that you had to crawl over to him.

And so you did. So desperate for the man, you climbed into his lap, and begged him for any reciprocation with your moans as you began grinding down on his leg again.

“Does my little slut want to cum?” He asked, his hands placed firmly and flat on the bed sheets either side of him, leaning back softly to watch your attempts to entice him into touching you again.

“Get off and strip down to your panties,” he demanded, and you happily complied, not caring where the offending pieces of clothing landed before jumping back into his lap. Apart from his lack of shirt, he was still in all of his clothing from the night before, a pair of loose sweatpants and boxers, and you relished the feeling of the fabric against your legs as you wrapped your legs back around him.

“I want you to use my leg to get yourself off baby, do you think you can do that?” He asked you, and you immediately nodded your head, desperate to start, but his hands on your hips stopped you.

“Use your words baby, answer me nicely.”

“Yes, fuck, yes I want to do that, please,” you whimper and he loosens his grip a little bit.

“Yes, daddy,” he demands and your eyes shoot up to his. Seeing that he is completely serious you feel yourself only growing more aroused as you stutter out another reply.

“Yes, please daddy.” He smiles at you again now and lets go of you completely, resting his hands on the bed again. Your hands come up to his shoulders and you begin your movements. You push your chest directly against his, desperate for some of your bare skin to be met with his, your aching nipples rubbing up against the plains of his chest in a near perfect way. You grind down into his thigh like its a lifeline, your every attempt to set an even tempo foiled by your absolute desperation to reach your climax.

He keeps talking to you throughout, mixing the sweetest of affirmations with the most disgusting insults, both driving you more and more crazy as the minutes tick by.

“Look at this disgusting little puddle my little girl has left on my pants. You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you my sweet little whore?” You moan out a reply, but he wants your words again. Delivering a painful slap to your ass he asks again, and this time you eke out a reply.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a nasty little whore, I want you so badly, daddy.” You whimper, the words and the shock of the slap bringing you ever-closer to your first release. Your arms are wrapped around his back now, scratching and marking him as if to claim territory, each one of his sharp-intakes at the pain driving you closer and closer until you finally feel yourself fall off the edge.

“So good for me baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple as you collapse into his arms, breathless from all of your hard work.

“I didn’t even have to touch you, and look at you. Looking like a fucked out whore, just for me baby girl," he whispered into your ear as he lifted you up, gently laying you back down on the bed.

“You think you can still do some more, baby?” He asked, and you nodded. This time it was enough for him, because he instantly shed the rest of his clothes and moved between your legs.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby. Gonna take care of you okay, just relax,” he kissed the words into your neck and started trailing kisses the entire way down your bosy. He paused briefly to show your breasts some attention, swirling his tongue around one nipple while he teased, pinched and pulled the other one, eventually switching to give them equal love.

But he didn’t stop at your breasts, pressing kisses down the length of your stomach before reaching your panties again. He looked up at you from his position before pulling them down your leg, making sure that your entire attention was devoted to him. He didn’t have to try hard, as your thoughts had been filled with him ever since he’d woken that morning, and you found you were quite content for it to stay that way forever.

He lifted your hips and slipped the offending piece of fabric down your legs. You shivered at the loss of contact at first, the sodden lace having been stuck to you after your desperate movements earlier. You were bare for all of five seconds before he dove into you, nudging your clit with his nose while he pressed kitten licks against your slit. You moaned out, not caring about controlling your volume, and didn’t stop as he continued licking and kissing like he was a man starved.

His tongue eventually made its way up to your clit and that’s when you lost it, bucking your hips wildly up into his mouth in a desperate attempt to use his face to get yourself off, but one of his large hands pinned you down again. He didn’t let up, rolling your clit around his tongue, bringing his other hand up to press a finger into you, beginning to pump in and out.

You didn’t even feel the build up this time, just closed your eyes as your hips jerked up once, twice into his face, not even a breath escaping your lips for what felt like an eternity as he let you ride through your second orgasm. He didn’t stop, but he removed his mouth from your centre, his fingers still pumping into you as you began twitching underneath him.

“Good girl, so fucking good for me. You’ve got one more left, right baby? One more left to give me, hmm?” He asked, but you couldn’t answer anymore, just nodding your head as best you could and bucking into his hands like a woman gone mad.

“Perfect baby, open your legs wide for me, okay?” His voice was gentle now as he gave his cock a few pumps, removing his fingers and flipping you onto your knees, putting you in the perfect position for him.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay princess? Tell me if it’s too much and we can end this right here,” he gently pulled the hair away from your face and pressed a final kiss to the back of your neck, finally lining his cock up with your glistening hole.

Then he’s finally pushed into you, and you could've sworn you saw stars. He fully sheathed himself inside of you and didn't move for a minute, choosing instead to press small kisses against your neck and back whilst you adjusted to his considerable length. He didn’t have to wait long though, as you could feel yourself practically dripping around him, making even more of a mess of your sheets.

He picks up a steady pace, pulling out halfway and then snapping his hips back into you with such force you’re grabbing your pillows with a vice grip. You tried to push your head back down into the pillow to soften your moans as well, but he grabbed you by your hair, wrapping it around his wrist, using his new leverage to pull you back onto his dick with each stroke.

“Wanna hear you baby girl, don’t fucking hold back,” he grunted into your ear, the new angle of his hips hitting that deep spot within you that had you flooding the sheets almost instantly, pushing out wave after wave of cum as you moan his name like an animal driven mad.

“That’s right baby girl, fucking cum around my cock, get it nice and wet,” he continues pounding into you, pulling out more and more of his length each time to hit deeper and deeper each time he returns to you. Your legs were practically shaking then at the overstimulation, your tongue hanging out of your head as you failed to form any coherent thought except “yes.”

His hips start faltering quickly and you knew he was close. A few more snaps of his hips and he pulled out of you completely with a small curse, shooting his load up your back as he released his hold on your hair gently. He collapsed on top of you, his arms around you as he kissed his way up your spine.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, the only sound that of your ragged breaths as you both attempted to catch your breath. After a few minutes he pulled away, and you heard him retreat to the bathroom. He came back swiftly with a washcloth and cleaned the two of you up, wiping his cum from your back and chest and doing his best to clean up your cunt without overstimulating you even more.

“Baby, we have to go to the bathroom now, you need to pee,” he gently turns you over and you whimper at the movement. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and you push yourself up to a sitting position next to him, unhappy that he’s being so responsible now after possibly ruining you for other men forever.

“You’re going to have to carry me, you know,” you grumble, resting your head against his shoulder. “My legs are still shaking like I’ve just walked a thousand miles with no rest.”

He chuckles at that and wrapped your legs around him, picking you up swiftly. He didn’t move immediately, just content to have you in his arms for a few seconds. You looked down into his eyes and you felt it too. Like you’d never want to be anywhere else but right here, in his arms. You pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips and you felt his smile as he returned it.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not the first time I’ve had to force you into the bathroom and I doubt it will be the last,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. And in that moment you realise that he has you for life.

--X--

🏷️: @ihavenotitlesblog @gibbsgirl7 @beefyboisbeefybongos @bluecandycake @piecsesrising @dim-i-try @simp4f1 @marylovesevanpeters @daddy-dotcom @alondralolll @thearsonistrat @eddiemunsonssweetoltatties

(I know some of you didn't ask to be tagged but you asked for a pt. 2 so thought it couldn't hurt, lmk if you want to be untagged!)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #maturereiding #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom

3K notes · View notes

babyleostuff · 24 days

Text

call me back

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . fighting with you is never easy for hoshi. especially not when an ocean is separating you

was fighting over the last piece of cake stupid and immature? yes. did it feel like hoshi’s whole world was about to collapse when he noticed you ate it? double yes. while your boyfriend wasn’t known for his great patience and non-existent anger issues, he never took his anger out on you, no matter how frustrated and annoyed he was.

well - until last week.

hoshi came home tired and very, very hungry, nothing out of the ordinary, though you could clearly see he was a lot more agitated than usual, so you did what you always did when he came back exhausted like that - gave him space. you were just about to start your nighttime routine when you heard your name being yelled from the kitchen, and not in a happy “baby, my love, my darling, please come hereeee” kind of way.

you didn’t even get a chance to take a breath as you entered the kitchen, coming face to face with soonyoung and his angry pout. “where the fuck is my cake?” he asked, and now, a week later, his words were still echoing through his head.

it was never his intention to lash out at you like that. obviously. he was tired, and hungry, his muscles were aching, he felt like a bad boyfriend for spending so little time with you, and he forgot to buy a gift for his mom's birthday - not that it mattered, nothing could excuse him for being so mean to you. to make matters worse, instead of acting like a man and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, he chickened out and just left.

“man, why don’t you just don’t call her and apologise?” woozi sighed, throwing his head back because it had to be the tenth time he had to listen to hoshi’s story of how he decided to act like the biggest dick over an overpriced piece of a strawberry cake.

“i did but she’s not answering.”

“no shit, i wouldn’t have answered either.”

and that exactly was the biggest problem - it was hard enough to go through a fight while he was home, but now that he was overseas, a thousand kilometres away from you it was impossible. yes, he could send you flowers and shit, but it would only piss you off even more. there was no way for him to show you how truly fucking sorry he was.

“i know you’re angry with me right now, but please,” hoshi took in a shaky inhale. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… sad. “please, just call me back,” that had to be the tenth voicemail he left you ever since he left home.

you, on the other hand, weren’t doing much better. you felt like slapping the shit out of him that night in your apartment, and although you were able to control your sudden surge of violence, you didn’t hold back on cursing him out after he left. you even thought about burning his side of the closet but if you did that you’d lose all of your favourite hoodies and flannels, so you gave up on that too.

after your short rage situation, you sat down at kitchen island, and stared at the empty plate where soonyoung’s cake was supposed to be. how were you supposed to know he’d act like that over a cake? obviously you wouldn’t have eaten it then. you figured your boyfriend must’ve had a really bad day at the rehearsals. the past couple of days were really harsh on him, and if you could you’d wrap him in bubble wrap, a couple of blankets, and cuddle the shit out of him for being so strong through all of this.

all of those excuses for him and still - you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his calls and texts, no matter how much listening to his voicemails broke your heart.

“so, um, i know we’re not talking but i’m just calling to tell you good morning. remember to eat, and um, have a great day, baby.”

the boys were slowly losing their patience too (seungcheol asked mingaho if he could share some of his calming tea) because a grumpy hoshi was never a fun hoshi, plus - they hated seeing their best friend constantly beating himself over your fight. there was something lacking without their performance team leader’s spark.

“should we just call her?” mingyu looked over at soonyoung, who was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. “he looks pathetic, moping around like that,” he snorted.

seungcheol groaned, banging his head on jeonghan's shoulder. as they started to get older he started to feel less like a leader but more like a therapist (he really thought about resigning the day seungkwan came whining about a love triangle he got himself into). “they are adults, they should figure it out between themselves.”

“oh come on, do we have to remind you what we had to do for you when you forgot about your girlfriend's birthday so she would forgive you?” mingyu snickered, and pulled out his phone.

you didn’t know what to expect when you saw mingyu’s picture flash over your phone screen. it definitely had something to do with your boyfriend, that much you gathered, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what he had to say. your boyfriend’s words really hurt you, and no matter how much you wanted to forgive him, you weren’t sure you could do it yet.

eventually, you clicked on the green button with a shaky finger. “yes?” you took a deep inhale and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to hear.

“okay, so you know exactly why i’m calling. your boyfriend looks like a kicked puppy, he stopped saying horanghae, he’s dressed all in black and he looks like he drank an entire bottle of soju. i mean, don't worry, he didn't do it because he would be reeling now, but you get what i mean. whatever happened between the two of you, give us back our hoshi."

"well, that was very tactful," you heard coups' voice in the background.

“can you shut up for one second?”

“no, in fact i can’t.”

“okay, boys, i don’t want to interrupt whatever is going on, but i really need to know if he’s doing as bad as you're saying.”

“bad” didn’t even come close to what hoshi was feeling. at this point he was so angry and frustrated at himself for acting like he acted, that seriously had to be one of his lowest points of his life achievements. now you were going to dump him, and he’d have to drown himself in soju, and grow a beard, and write a sad love song that he’d hear at the radio for the rest of his life, and-

there was no way you were calling him right now. and yet, “h-hello? babe?”

“no, the fucking pope,” he’d have to add a cabin in the woods to his list of what he’d do after you’d break up with him. “kwoon soonyoung, you have to be one of the most insufferable, impatient and immature people i know. all this because of a piece of cake? do you hear how childish that sounds?"

loud and clear, honey.

“that’s why i didn’t apologise in the first place. i immediately realised how fucking stupid i acted, and felt so ashamed of saying all of those awful things to you, and so i just left.”

you sighed defeated. you kind of anticipated him saying that - your boyfriend had a habit of doing things before thinking them over, and as much as you understood him being exhausted and overworked, you still couldn’t forget how small he made you feel that night.

“look, i really don’t want to fight, being away from you is hard enough, but…,” you ran a hand over your face. what were you supposed to do? you spent the last three nights on the couch because you couldn’t fall asleep in your shared bed, and there were so many times when you wanted to text him about the most unserious things that only he’d get, but you just couldn’t. “your words really hurt me.”

“i know, shit, i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. whatever i’ll say it won’t be enough, i should’ve apologised right away. fuck, your boyfriend is such a loser,” you heard him laugh, but it was not the usual soonyoung laugh that made the flowers bloom, and sun shine. “i understand if you want to take a break.”

“that’s the thing, i don’t want to take any breaks. i miss you so much. i miss talking to you every night, i miss our silly conversations, i miss getting my daily hoshi boyfriend pics. i’m sick of seeing your face on twitter and not over face time,” you pulled the sleeve of his sweater over your hand, like it would make you feel any closer to him. “let’s take it slow, maybe?”

you could swear you heard soonyoung exhale, “yes, yes, let’s do that. whatever you need, babe,” he said immediately. “my poor baby must’ve been so nervous.”

“i love you, you know,” you whispered. there was no point in making things worse and pretending that you didn't miss him, and even though it would probably be a while before everything went back to normal, you didn't want him to doubt whether you still loved him as much as you did before.

“i love you too. very much,” he whispered back, finally sounding a bit happier. “and baby? thank you for calling me back.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw

877 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 6 months

Text

Better Than He Ever Was - MV1

This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES

Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating

Related works: Mini Me Prodigy

When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.

He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.

There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.

Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.

But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.

When she started showing? Oh boy.

It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.

Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.

Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.

Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.

Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.

"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"

"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.

Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."

Max just hummed.

It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).

"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.

A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"

Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."

Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."

Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"

They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.

As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.

When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.

By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.

Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.

"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.

Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.

Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.

They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.

They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.

If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.

When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.

The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.

And then Y/N went into labour.

All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.

Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.

He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.

His son. His boy.

"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."

2K notes · View notes

angelsrcute · 12 days

Text

7 WEEKS AND 3 DAYS. 𝜗𝜚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Scaramouche + Sub!FReader ➜ cws: angsty, toxic relationship, asshole scara, abuse, one sided love(?), kitchen sex, getting ghosted, unprotected sex, raw sex, manipulation, reader gets pregnant. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭‎ — I do not condone these actions irl, this mostly shows how the reader is in a toxic relationship but can't get out of it. Also this is my first time done this type of a lyric fanfic!!

Scaramouche, who wouldn't know him? He was a popular guy. Though he wasn't a nice guy, a delinquent. Had the worst friend group, and slept around a lot. Any girl would die to have a night with him. So what happens when he starts hanging around you? You brushed it off thinking he just wanted to have a good fuck with you. All your friends had warned you about him, how bad he was. You mostly ignored him. Detentions and parent calls, very normal for him, not like his parents cared. Doing drugs, partying, and bullying sometimes.

All my friends say "fuck you".

But could you ignore his sweet words? holding your hand as you two watched the stars. How could you ignore his promises as he kisses the back of your hand, you of course fell in love with him. Hands on your waist as you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was passionate, not like some low effort kiss. Oh, how much you loved this man. That night you confessed to him, his face brightening up as he landed more kisses to your face. Laughing in his arms till your stomach hurt.

But I can't help but love you.

You let him into your house, even gave him a spare key. Went on dates, you forgot what everyone said about him. This is true love, he was nothing like the rumours. Daily texts and phone calls, missing each other even though you two meet daily. He even opened up to you, about his family. But once you both slept together, things started to change. You felt like he was spending less time with you. You thought it was because of how busy he was, you'd always stay awake at night, waiting for him to come back. You were so worried. He'd see your texts very late, whenever you asked to go out with him, he'd always make an excuse.

And even though you ran me out dry.

When he'd come home drunk, he'd sometimes hurt you, calling you a possessive bitch for questioning him so much. But would still apologise to you with tears in his eyes, promising he wouldn't do it again, cradling you like some child who's scared. You'd forgive him at the end, maybe he just had a bad day or was in a bad mood, it's alright, everyone has those types of days. It'd still happen, everytime. He got jealous very easily too, and wouldn't let you talk to other guys. Maybe now you're seeing his true colours, but he cherishes you so much, right?

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear this won't happen again, don't be scared okay? please."

I still think you're a decent guy, Why?

Hands wrapping around your waist as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin. Bending you over the kitchen counter, “Forget the food, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” His cock thrusting into your cunt, it hurt, but you stayed quiet. He was never gentle with you, always leaving bruises. He shoots his load in your cunt, making you all warm and dumb.

On the rare days that he visited you, it would always lead to sex. You wonder if he sees you as nothing but an object. Silly thoughts, he's just showing you his love.

I should've caught him by his last name

You were pregnant, what a happy news. Maybe this will fix your relationship? You hoped so, desperately wanted him to look at you with the same eyes he once used to. Scaramouche never replied to you nor picked up your calls. Had he ghosted you? no this wasn't supposed to happen, he's just busy, right?

Tears fell from your eyes as you waited for your husband to come back, which he never did. Ah, what a dumb fucker you are, of course this was all a game. He didn't want to love a single person, he just wanted to have relief. What a shame your kid would never be able to see his father. Would he look just like scaramouche? You dreaded the thought.

You still believed that scaramouche loved you, at least you did, every moment.

It's been seven weeks and three days.

389 notes · View notes

togrowoldinv · 8 months

Text

Jersey

Beefy!Nat x Female Reader

You meet Natasha after one of her football games. She gives you her jersey and so much more

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, a lot of beef, oral (N receiving), being crushed by Nat’s thighs, thigh riding

Note: Yay beefy Nat football player smut. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

You met Natasha by accident really. You’re a fan of football, so you jumped on the opportunity to watch the new team in your city play.

Although the team is mostly men, there’s a few other people who are on the team. Namely, Natasha Romanoff is the starting quarterback. And she’s one hell of a player.

You noticed in the first game that she has a perfect body and perfect red hair.

She’s led the team to victory multiple times this season. After the last game, you were cheering loudly and Natasha walked up to you in the front row.

“Hey,” Natasha said casually.

“Oh hi. Great game,” you told her.

“You’ll be here next week?” She asked. You nod. “See you then.”

And with that she disappeared back into the crowd of the team. You haven’t stopped thinking about her since then.

You get ready for the game. Your friend Kate goes with you and teases you relentlessly for cheering so loudly when Natasha makes plays.

“She’s the quarterback! Of course I’m going to cheer for her!” You defend yourself.

“Yeah, definitely not because you’re in love with her,” Kate replies.

“Stop,” you plead, feeling heat in your cheeks from lying.

The team sails to a victory. This time Natasha comes up to you at the stands and offers her hand. You take it and look at her confusedly.

“Come with me,” she says.

“Onto the field?”

“Yep. Come on,” she says, pulling you over the barricade. “Nice shirt.”

You look down at your team shirt and smile at her.

“Thank you.”

She takes you by surprise when she lifts her jersey over her head. Nat holds the jersey for you to put your arms and head through it, but too you’re distracted by her abs to realize what she’s doing.

“Seriously?” You ask her.

“It’ll look better on you anyways,” she says. “Forgive me for the sweat.”

She puts the jersey on you and smirks at the sight of you.

“Can I get a picture?” Kate asks. You forgot she was even here.

“Yes you can,” Natasha says.

She wraps her arm around you. The muscles flex against your body and your knees threaten to weaken. Kate takes the photo and sends it to you.

“I’m Natasha by the way,” Nat says as she steps back to face you again.

“Y/n,” you say.

“Y/n, would you like to see the facilities with me?” She asks. “If your friend is okay with you sneaking off, of course.”

“I’m more than okay with it,” Kate says. “I see a player of my own I’m going to talk up.”

With that, Natasha takes your hand and walks you towards the tunnel to the locker room. You’ve always wondered what it was like to go through these parts of the stadium.

Natasha tells you all about the different rooms around the base of the stadium. She shows you what areas she can.

“I’ll take you into the locker room, but I don’t know if everyone’s decent,” Natasha jokes as if her herself isn’t wearing little to no clothes since giving you her jersey.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” you say.

She opens the door and playfully covers your eyes. But there ends up being no one else in there.

“I guess the team got out quick today,” Nat reasons. “Here’s my locker.”

You see a photo of what looks like it could be Natasha’s family and her gear in the locker.

“This is amazing,” you say as you look around the room. Natasha just watches you with a smile.

“It’s got its perks,” she says. “The showers are probably my favorite area.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask.

“Mhm,” she says. “There’s a special area for the quarterback.”

“May I see it?”

Natasha looks you over before she decides on her answer. If you mean what you think she means, then she’s sure the ache between her legs will be satisfied.

“Follow me,” she says.

Natasha guides you through the locker room into another area. She closes the door behind her. To your right there’s a door that Natasha types a key code into.

“Right this way, ma’am,” she says.

You step into the room and take note of one shower head on the wall. On the other side of the room is a glass doored in area.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“A sauna,” Natasha says. “I only use it every now and then.”

You try to think of what to say next, but when you turn back to Natasha she is unbuttoning her pants.

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, turning your head away from where she undresses.

“Oh, no I’m sorry, y/n,” Nat says. “I just thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me showering while we’re in here.”

“Oh,” you say. “I don’t know about just sitting here while you shower.”

“Would you like to use the sauna while I do it then?” She asks. “Or I can take you back to your friend.”

“No,” you say too fast. “I mean- yes the sauna is a good idea.”

Natasha smirks and turns the sauna on for you. She shows you where to put your clothes and where the towels are. Nat leaves you to it.

From the sauna, you can see the shower. She’s not as sneaky as she thinks she is. But Natasha knows that. She takes her clothes off and steps under the water.

You take your own off and wrap in a towel to sit in the sauna. Natasha’s ass catches your eye as she washes her body. You try to look away but you just can’t.

When Nat turns around, you’re sure your mouth hangs open. Through the fog of the sauna, you can see her perfectly toned abs, arms, and thighs. God, you want to be between those thighs.

Your thoughts run wild as she rubs the soap over her body. You swear Nat looks over to the sauna to see if are looking at her.

It seems like an eternity she takes to shower. Heat pools between your legs.

Natasha turns off the shower and wraps a towel around just her waist. Her chest remains on full display as she walks towards the sauna. You sit up straighter in anticipation.

“You okay in here?” She asks as she opens the door.

“I’m fine, yes,” you say, trying to keep your voice stable.

“Mind if I join you?” Nat asks.

You shake your head and she steps fully inside. Her wet red hair falls over her shoulders perfectly, but it’s not long enough to cover her breasts.

Natasha notices you staring at her chest. She sits right next to you. Her shoulder brushes against yours.

“You know you can make a move on me,” Natasha says. Her voice is deep, dripping with lust.

“I’m not really the type to make the first move,” you say. Your eyes flicker to her lips and back up to her eyes.

“Not even on your favorite player?” She asks. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I won’t tell anyone if you do it.”

“Can I kiss you?” You ask.

“You can do a lot more than that, y/n.”

You take her face in your hands softly and kiss her lips. Natasha lets you set the pace. It’s slow, sensual as you memorize the feeling of her lips on yours.

“Mmm,” she hums against your lips.

You could melt into a puddle at the sound. It encourages you to deepen the kiss. Natasha’s hands wander over your towel. She slips it down your chest and takes your breast in her hand. Her grip is strong and the feeling is intoxicating.

“Fuck,” she groans when you move your kisses to her neck. Your hot breath makes her grab your breasts harder.

“I want to taste you,” you say.

“Now we’re talking,” she says. You don’t see her face but you know she’s smirking.

You kiss down her chest and move to kneel in front of her. Your towel falls to the ground and makes the perfect place for your knees.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Natasha says, seeing all of you now.

“You’re so perfect,” you reply.

You move your hands over her abs, tracing every line. Natasha’s legs open wide when your hands grip her thighs.

You suck on her pussy and her thighs begin to squeeze around your head. You don’t care. You keep going and going and going.

“Fuck, y/n, fuck I’m close!” Natasha yells out. She bites her lip and groans when you lick her faster.

Within no time, Natasha comes hard against your mouth. She opens her legs again and you emerge from her thighs.

Nat grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you up onto her lap. She takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“So good,” she says. “You did so fucking good.”

The words cause the ache between your legs to become unbearable. You grind against her as you keep kissing.

Natasha’s hands come to your hips. She bites your lip and you groan. It hurts but only a little bit.

“If you’re going to do that, at least let me help,” she says firmly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nat says.

She moves your hips with ease. Her muscles do more than help her throw a football. Your pussy rubs against her upper thigh.

“Natasha,” you moan softly as she picks up the pace of your hips. You don’t even have to move. She has control.

“I want you to come, y/n. I want you to come all over my thigh,” she says. “Do it for me, sweetheart.”

Your hips stutter as you come against her. Natasha keeps moving your hips until you’re begging her to stop.

You fall against her and her arms hold you close. Natasha kisses your temple and lets you take your time to relax again.

“Are you good?” She asks.

“So good,” you say a bit dreamily. Natasha chuckles.

You sit back up and smile at Nat. You push a piece of her hair behind her ear. She blushes.

“Did you enjoy your tour?” Natasha jokes.

“I did,” you say. “In fact, I enjoyed it so much I think I want to come back next week.”

“I’ll have tickets for you,” she says.

“And another jersey?”

“Sure,” Natasha agrees. “I can get you one with your name on it.”

“I’d rather have yours,” you say.

Natasha smiles so brightly before she kisses you again. You two eventually get dressed and go out that night.

You never miss one of Natasha’s games after that day and soon she asks you to be her wife.

And that name on the back of her jersey ends up becoming yours too.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut #beefy!nat

850 notes · View notes

saturnxgojo · 3 months

Text

trios dont work. // satosugu x reader (business AU)

test to see how people like this idea

✦ Pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x afab!reader (she/her)

✦ Summary: trios dont work, and nine years later consequences hit

✦ Warnings: alcoholism, mention of death (mamagumi), passing out due to alcohol consumption, abandonment, clubs dunno what else lmk

✦ A/n: this so far isnt done yet, ive been writing a mucchhhh longer version since october, but i wanna see if you guys like this idea so lmk in the comments if yall want more so i can post the whole thing

✦ Wordcount: 2905

✦ ATTENTION!!! do not copy. translate, remake my work, i do not give you permission to so dont do it. also GIF not mine, credits to the creator.

full post!!!

nine years. It had been nine years.

The first year felt unrealistic. It was strange. going from being side by side with each other almost 24/7 to no contact at all. [Name] didn’t know what she did wrong, just that one day Satoru and Suguru decided they didn’t want her in their life anymore.

She remembered everything of their last day together, every once in a while it would suddenly pop back up into her head, but in that first year, it replayed again and again; every day.

“Suguru!” [Name] had called out to one of the two teenage boys as she caught up to them “hi!”

Suguru flung his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into his side as she greeted Satoru.

“Where have you been, doll? We were looking for you.”

[Name] laughed as she grabbed their hands and pulled them along. “Shoko and I accidentally forgot to sleep, so when I did fall asleep around ten I was doomed to wake up late.”

The two boys looked at each other and smiled, the little ball of sunshine walking in front still pulling them along.

“So four hours of sleep and already this energetic? you still gotta teach me that trick.” Satoru commented as he looked at her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She replied with a ‘real magicians don’t explain their best tricks’

After they walked for a while, they finally reached the top of a mountain, looking down on the city below.

The beginning of summer break celebration was going on, kids from their private school and from public schools in the city came together to celebrate. Many people crowded the streets, there was music, and they could see everything perfectly.

“look who knows the best spots once again”

They had spent the entire afternoon on the top of that mountain since classes were canceled due to the celebration, their fellow students were down there, having fun.

But as they were probably dancing and partying; Satoru took on the challenge to chase [Name] around the hill, she yelped and ran behind the other boy, clutching to the back of his shirt for protection as she heard the two boys negotiate.

“Don’t you dare Suguru,” she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He placed one of his hands on hers and suddenly pulled her to the front. “Not you too please! ah!” she yelped, but the next moment she was giggling, she could never stand a chance against their tickle war. Ever since they found out she was very ticklish a few years ago it had become a thing for them to annoy her with. Whenever it was if she were sad, annoyed, angry, or if they felt like it, the boys would look at each other and [Name] would run instantly if she saw. (Which she most of the time didn’t and fell into their grasp giggling.)

Later at night they went back to the school, they had watched the sun set, then the fireworks, and then [name] and Satoru listened and looked in awe as Suguru pointed out constellations in the night sky. It was perfect.

At some point her eyes fell and she slept. The black haired boy looked down at her sleeping on Satoru's shoulder before giving a sad smile.

“She will never forgive us.”

“But at least we'll protect her.”

The next morning when [name] woke up in the room she shared with Shoko there was a little note on her nightstand.

‘you’re gonna be okay’ in Satoru’s messy and rushed handwriting. She got dressed and ran out of her room, looking for her best friends. what did Satoru mean with that she was gonna be okay?

She looked all over the grounds, the dining hall, library, common rooms, classrooms, the fields and gardens. Eventually she decided to also check their dorm. Girls and boys weren’t originally allowed in each other's dorm rooms, but since everyone was packing their stuff for summer the teachers didn’t care. So she followed the familiar path towards the boys their shared room. The posters were gone from their door, but they probably took those down first she thought. [name] knocked on the door, no reaction. She opened the door to find it completely empty except for the furniture that belonged to the school.

Graduation was next week, why were they moved out already? For the last few years they always did that together. Where were they? As she turned around and bumped into Nanami, he looked just as confused as he took in the empty room.

He looked at her, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. She knew what he was gonna ask, “They’re putting their stuff into the car or?”

She showed him the note in her hand and Nanami just got more question marks behind his eyes.

For a week she wondered where they were, she held hope they’d come knocking on her temporary apartment building her parents owned as she waited in the city for graduation. However; no knock came, no call, no letter or note, nothing. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru disappeared from the radar.

When graduation rolled around word went round that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would not be attending. They had waited for this moment for she didn’t know how long. Plans were made to go out with their other friends after, they had plans for the future! But now, instead of her two best friends cheering on her louder than anyone else as she held her valedictorian speech, her other friends cheered double as hard. They knew she’d been struggling this week. Shoko had crashed at her temporary apartment since she didn’t want to deal with her parents. Nanami also came by daily, and if they hadn’t been there, no one would’ve known what would’ve happened to [name].

The second year was still unbearable. [Name] worked a lot, saving money, attending college, going out with her friends on the weekends. She often found herself looking to her sides, expecting to see one of her two former best friends walking there. She always looked for them in crowds, she looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found.

In the third year [name] finally figured out her future. She was in her third year but decided to drop out. She saved a lot of money, and she was relatively well off so she bought a building in the busy city and within six months the place opened to a magnificent night club and partially a cafe two times a week. It took a lot of promotion, and a lot of patience until the place blew up.

In just the first year that it opened, she gained so much she paid off the entire loan of the building. It hit off with people her age, and at just nineteen [name] was going to become one of the youngest millionaires of her time, she just didn’t know it yet.

Her friends loved the place too, and they were immensely proud of [name] after what she had gone through a few years prior. She proved to the world that the only person she truly needed was herself and that she could do whatever she wanted to.

The second year after opening the fourth without Gojo and Geto [name] opened a second location of her club across the world in Los Angeles.

And now nine years later, and six locations in Tokyo, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, NYC, Paris and London [Name] had in fact become the fastest growing self made millionaire at her age. She lived in Beverly Hills, had her own place designed and built and she was living the life.

Now; in her bathroom it was still a calm Saturday night but she knew that in an hour she would be in her own club, observing the people as she sipped on her drink. Saturdays were the busiest; first day of the weekend but that also meant a lot of money.

“Scarlett?” [name] called out to her assistant who walked towards the entrance of the bathroom. “Take two weeks off, alright? Paid vacation of course, take your wife anywhere you want, put it on my bill. It’s summer and you haven’t been on a break since last year. It’s not up for debate.” She was fixing the last strands of her hair before turning towards the woman in her doorframe who looked a bit ill at her words. “Now, how do I look?” she gave Scarlett a smile.

“As beautiful as always. And… Are you sure you’ll be fine? I mean… Two weeks is a lot.” Scarlett loved her job, not because it paid well, or because her boss was very generous. She loved her job because her boss felt more like a close friend rather than a boss.

“You’re right, make it three weeks. You deserve it, you and your wife both. I’ll be fine, I know how to start a washer and dryer, I know how to do the dishes. What else would I need? Now, have fun on your vacation, you better send me pics, and have fun! I gotta get going now though cause I'm already late.”

Scarlett still looked a bit sick as she bid farewell to her boss, but at least she could finally take a break, which she was too shy to admit she actually needed.

[Name] walked through the front door of the club, she didn’t pick favorites is what she told others, but the location here in LA and the one in Paris were definitely her favorites of the six she owned. The music was beaming, lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat hung in the air. Security guards nodded at her in a silent greeting as she made her way to her office, one of them trailing her for her own protection. Tonight was going to be a good night, she thought as she poured herself a drink, quickly drowning it before taking a glance at the paperwork that had been assembled on her desk during the last few days. She’d take it home when she left tonight. The security guard opened the door again and waited for her to lock it, after she gave him the signal he didn’t have to trail her tonight.

She walked past the VIP area, making some small conversations with people she’d seen before. There were new faces too, there always were. All different types of ‘em too. It was a safe space as well as a club. She stopped at Toji’s table, how he and her met was a long story. Everyone at [Name] her boarding school knew of the Zen’in family and their generations at the school, same as the Gojo family, as well as her own. She’d seen him here at the club one day a few years ago, standing at the bar and damn he looked familiar she had thought. It soon clicked in her head and she walked up to him.

“Zen’in?” she had called as she stood behind him.

“Fushiguro now actually, took my wife's last name.” he said as he turned around, looking at the young woman in front of him. “Wait,” he had studied her face, until his eyes landed on the obvious giveaway of her family “[last name]?”. She nodded and smiled in response to his guess. “Never thought I’d see one of you all the way out here.”

“Well, someone has to be the millionaire of the family.” Toji’s eyes widened as he asked for more details, giving an impressed grin when he found out she was the owner.

“You got it good, girl. I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the type.”

“Hello again, it’s been a while.” She sat down on the couch next to him, observing the people as they danced to the music. There were some empty glasses in front of him but Toji seemed rather sober.

“[Last name], you look good tonight.” he gave her a grin, it had been a few years since his wife died, the first few years were a mess for him, he was in here every night drinking away his grief. But over the years he had come to accept her passing and actually started taking care of his son again. Now he came every weekend, mostly just Saturdays since that's when his son was at his friends’ or godfathers house. “Thank you,” she smiled at him, smoothing out the satin dress on her body. “How’s Megs?” She hadn’t seen either of them ‘cause they’d been residing in Japan for a while. Toji smiled at the mention of his son. It took him too long to realize that the little boy was his light in life, his wife lived on in him and oh he was amazing.

“He’s fine, great actually. He graduated from Jujutsu High a few weeks ago…” as Toji said that an old but familliar scent hit [name] her nostrils and she immediately turned her head around but didn’t find what she smelled. “It was amazing to see him receive his diploma. To be really honest, a few years ago I thought I’d never be back at that place again after I graduated years and years ago myself.”

“He’s so grown up already, I can remember when you told me he just started.” [Name] turned her head back towards her friend with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And to be fair, I don’t think I’ll ever return to Jujutsu High again, no matter the reason.” there was a reason- there were simply too many memories there that she had tried her hardest to forget. Those memories being the ones she just smelled.

The mixed scent of sweet floral yet strong cologne and a really overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla still hung faintly in the air.

It can’t be, she thought. Her mind was just playing tricks on her because Toji had her remember things she didn’t want to. There’s no way.

Yet when she bid farewell to Toji and walked towards the bar she smelled it again. The bartenders didn’t look up when she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink, yet she overheard their conversations.

“That man's eyes… wow! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that bright!”

It’s not him. They’re not here.

“But the other one! His shoulders… my god.”

[Name] walked away before she’d drive herself insane over this. There was no way they were here. If they were, she would’ve spotted them already. Even though a decade can change a lot about a person; Gojo’s bright blue eyes and bright hair and Geto’s long dark hair and muscled figure always stood out, especially when together.

She wasn’t even sure if they’d regcronise her. She cut her hair, the final stages of puberty hit her later so she got some more curves and flesh, her style had changed and so had her personality. Though deep down she knew that if she’d ever see those two boys again, she’d turn back into her old bubbly self if it took too long. She always had a soft spot for them, no matter what happened or how much she denied it, they would always be a part of her past. Toji had also once told her she walked around like she owned the place, to which she replied that she did. He’d given her credit for the remark and she’d told him to put things on her tab that night.

With a racing heart she went back to observing the crowds. Walking alongside tables, along the dancefloor, everywhere.

Theres no way these two fucks still wear the same cologne after years.

She sipped her drink, it burned in her throat, but it wasn't unpleasant. She walked towards the staircase for staff and security. All the way up it overlooked the layout of the building and she could spot things easier.

I’m going to drive myself insane by looking for people that aren’t-

Her train of thoughts stopped when she saw a mob of bright white hair, she stared at it for ten seconds before looking at the person's face and she felt her head get light, looking besides him she saw a familiar black haired man.

Fuck.

She turned around, not being able to look anymore. The top of the stairs wasn't lit, so the chance they would’ve seen her was slim, very slim. [Name] sunk to the ground and drowned her drink in one go, this time the burn lasted longer and she closed her eyes. A few years ago she had promised herself that if she’d ever find them in her club- her property, she’d get them kicked out. Yet now that she found them, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them to get out of here.

Why not?

Why not? There was no reason as to why not. As she said, it was her property, she could do whatever she wanted and before she realized it herself she was already making her way to the table they were sitting at.

The music seemed to dim, the world became clearer yet also blurrier as she stood in front of them.

“Get the fuck out of my place.” she said, there was anger and aggression in her voice as she looked at them. “Now.”

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

lmk what you think of this in the comments so i can post the whole thing!!!! OH AND LMK IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FULL THING ONCE I POST IT :3

#satosugu #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

485 notes · View notes

etfrin · 3 months

Text

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter seventeen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | canon typical death, violence, mentions of self harm, Coriolanus Snow, mentions of suicide | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus snow is now a peacekeeper.

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i wrote this at four am, please forgive me if it's not good, give me your feedback!! And uhm.. i am gonna pull an all nighter, coz if i sleep now i won't be able to wake up in time tmr, wish me luck!!

Beta read by 🩶 @nowitsmissing 🩶

masterlist | navigation | series taglist

Coriolanus was on the train. He had nothing but mere minutes to pack his belongings and say goodbye to his life in the Capitol. Tigris was in tears. And he knew the hug he gave grandma’am would be the last he ever received from her. Peacekeepers have to serve for twenty years after all.

He was on his way to district twelve. Not once had you come to visit him. He would lie to himself if he said he thought you would be at the train station. He expected an explanation. He was ready to accept lies. But no one was waiting for him. He was all alone.

Snow has lost his previous blonde curls as all officers had to have a buzzcut. He also had been sprayed with extremely cold water before he was given the blue uniform of peacekeepers. Coriolanus had gone over a small handbook and he realized hierarchy is everything. There are ways to raise rank but what's the point of it all?

What's the point?

He will never be president.

The Snow name will fall.

He will never have you.

He should just end it all.

That's when the door to his train cabin opens. The person who enters is completely unsuspected. Sejanus Plinth. His… friend.

Sejanus sits before him. Coriolanus doesn't even greet him. He's shocked. He blurts out, “Before you came, I was thinking about the merits of suicide.”

Sejanus replied with a chuckle, “Don't give them the satisfaction, Coryo.”

Coriolanus nods. He won't. He will make it out somehow.

“Why are you here?”

“I volunteered,” Sejanus said proudly, “as a medic. I will make a real difference like you said I can.”

Coriolanus wants to roll his eyes but doesn't. He likes the company he has right now, it's better than nothing. He smiles, all nice and fake. “Of course, Sejanus. You'll also meet your songbird.”

Sejanus Plinth blushed, “That too.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The First Week.

Ma Plinth sends letters regularly to Sejanus. She also sends him various goods including pastries that Sejanus shares with him. He hates it. Coriolanus still finishes his share of the sweet as it's so rare to find in the districts.

They don't have a day off yet. Sejanus hasn't found Lucy Gray. He's worried. Coriolanus speaks false words to put the poor boy at ease. It works more often than not.

The training is hard but Coryo excels. He's noticed by several of the recruits. They're friendly. He doesn't reveal that he's from the Capitol, nor does Sejanus Plinth. The gifts from his Ma are kept a secret.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The First Month.

Coriolanus Snow trains more and more. He trains harder than everyone. Snow eats well. He has more muscles than he had in the academy. Coryo could beat several people in combat now. He had gained the respect of his peers.

He was angry.

That’s the only reason he trained so much. Because if he thinks too much, he won't be able to live. He checks his mail every day. He gets them weekly from Tigris. It doesn't say much except the fact they're doing well.

Coryo rarely writes her back.

He yelled at Sejanus today.

It's the first time he ever yelled at the boy. Sejanus looks like he is about to cry and Coriolanus doesn't know what to do.

Coriolanus Snow is mad at you. And you aren't here to take the burn.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month.

Coriolanus caves in. He writes. He writes and writes dozens of letters addressed to you. It's about the smallest thing. How heavy the gun was for him to carry in the beginning and how it is now. How the air is fresh in some parts of the district and horrible near the factories. How bright the sun is. How pretty the flowers are. He speaks about the culture he thought district people could never have. He speaks about the people who are… kind. Different than he thought so.

Coriolanus doesn't send them to you.

However, Sejanus Plinth does.

Sej is sure you'll reply.

You don't.

He stops writing the letters.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month; Second Week

He begs onto the paper. So much ink is wasted.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please.

SAY SOMETHING BACK

He scrawls the words roughly onto the letter over and over again. Tears falling from his eyes and ruining the ink. It makes some of the words ineligible. He doesn't care. You'll get it.

You get him.

Out of all the people, why did you abandon him like this?

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Second Month; Fourth Week

Snow doesn't get a reply. It doesn't matter.

Whatever healing his soulmate scar had gone through had reversed. It was the same ugly scar now. It didn't matter. Nothing does.

Sejanus says he's colder now. Angrier. He has a temper. Coriolanus doesn't care.

Sejanus Plinth forces Coryo to enjoy his day off. He drags him to The Hob, the bar in District Twelve. He sees Lucy Gray dancing and singing around. He meets with the Covey. He laughs for the first time in a while.

The same night he kisses someone. He doesn't remember who. He hates it. It felt like spiders crawling on his skin. He vomits outside of the bar. Sejanus is concerned. Coriolanus Snow quietly cries himself to sleep that night.

He doesn't touch his soulmate's scar for comfort anymore. He wishes he could cut all the skin off from his wrist where the mark was.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Third Month; First Week

When he comes back to the Capitol, he will. He will kill you. He will ruin you like you ruined him. The next time you meet Coriolanus Snow you aren't coming out alive.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Third Month; Fourth Week

Coryo can imagine his life here. With Sejanus and the Covey. Lucy Gray quickly becomes his friend (somewhat). Maude Ivory, her younger cousin, is sweet and considers Coryo like a brother figure.

It means a lot to him.

The music they play. The cabin in the woods. The cool lake is hidden in the forest. It's nice. A life worth having (he's lying to himself).

He hates the heat.

He misses the Capitol.

He misses you. Though he will never admit it.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Fourth Month; First Week.

Coryo finds out what the hanging tree is named after. It's a tree used for hanging the rebels. And some rebels were caught recently. Their names were called out by the captain. And they were sentenced to death.

Coriolanus had to stand up straight and keep a poker face as they were punished. A girl calls out the unfairness of it all. Pleads that they were doing nothing wrong. Snow wants to scoff. The rebels tried to escape, flee to the north, away from the safety that Panem offered. That's betrayal in Coriolanus' book.

The girl is taken away as a rebel as well.

As it should be.

Dumb district girl.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The Fourth Month; Third Week.

A few officials have come from the Capitol to district twelve on a mission nobody knows anything about. Coryo hears rumors about it being about district thirteen and he's reminded of you. He doesn't pay much attention to it as they were just baseless rumors. District thirteen ceased to exist and his family had to face the consequences because of it.

Commander Hoff gathers every peacekeeper in the Nauen radio station. Hoff begins with a speech, “Today I call you here to let you know about the prestigious guests staying in District twelve for the time being. It is suffice to say that they expect the best from you as one of you will be assigned to be each of their bodyguard for their safety. They're from the Capitol, remember their lives matter more than yours. Do not let me down.”

Commander Hoff calls out names one by one and the peacekeeper is assigned to the person. He calls out your name. Coriolanus freezes, perhaps he heard wrong. He looks around onto the stage where the officials are and sees you for the first time in months.

Fuck. You're so beautiful.

He fists his hands. He bites the inside of his cheeks. It takes him everything not to descend into madness.

“...is assigned to Coriolanus Snow.”

You're under him now.

Good luck.

Next Part

365 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 days

Text

The satellite dish at Camp Half-Blood would be better suited as a cereal bowl.

It hardly works. It catches a grand total of nineteen channels, twelve of which are news stations, and the final seven almost never have anything playing that’s actually worth watching. But the DVD player only ever works every third month, and the strawberry plants have to be watered, so on rainy days, the sixteen of them cram into the rec room of the Big House, organised, fight-reduction seating for as long as Nyssa can tiredly maintain it, and squabble over the remote.

“It’s my turn! Give it to me!”

“Quit whining you little twerp —”

“Will! Make her give me the remote!”

“Snitch! Snitch! Sherman, beat him up —”

Nico narrowly dodges Kayla’s dirty sneaker, sniggering to himself as Will and Sherman share, for perhaps the first time in either of their lives, an identical sigh of endless suffering, each grabbing one sibling and yanking backwards. They’ve really dug their claws in, so it takes a couple tries.

“Kayla,” Will warns, both hands clamped around her ankles, “if you don’t let go in three damn seconds —”

“Ellis sucks at picking channels!”

“Everybody sucks at picking channels! We got maybe four to choose from!”

“Seven,” correct several people at once.

Will rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. I forgot about the three toddler channels the rest of y’all babies are so enthralled by.”

“As if you don’t watch Sesame Street with as much childlike glee as the rest of us, Solace.”

“Can it, Diaz. Kayla, remove your nails from his face!”

A hand tugs on his sleeve. Nico glances over to find Austin’s big, pleading eyes, and since he is a massively weak loser, apparently, he sighs, mouth twitching when Austin wiggles happily, and plunges his hand into the nearest shadow.

He digs around for a second, trying to orient himself, and smirks when he sees his hand reappear across the couch, right in between Kayla and Ellis’ heads. He waits, watching for a break. Austin watches carefully next to him, hands still around his other wrist, and when the timing is right — a twitch in Kayla’s knee indicating an oncoming kick that even Will won’t be able to stop — he squeezes. Nico darts between them, snatching the remote for himself. He passes it to Austin with a wink. Austin points it to the TV immediately, clicking it to what everyone has aptly named the ‘Grandma Channel’ — twenty-four-seven footage of gardening set to quit jazz.

Thirteen groans — one cheer by Miranda, their lone ally — sound at once.

“You’re weak as all hell, di Angelo,” Billie informs him, obviously a fake gardener. Shame.

He makes a face at her.

Despite their troubles, the peace of the Grandma Channel does not last. In what can only be a coordinated attack, Nico and Austin are lulled into a false sense of security, entranced by a particularly satisfying timelapse of a grape vine, and when their guards are down, they are ambushed. With a deafening war cry, Harley is flung bodily on top of the two of them, landing with two gleeful elbows to Nico’s shoulder and Austin’s ribs, rendering them breathless and perhaps even close to death.

“No maiming,” Austin protests, wheezing.

“I’m telling Chiron,” Nico agrees, similarly struggling to reinflate his lungs. He glances at his medic boyfriend, also known as Judas, who only shrugs, smirking. His thumb is notably smeared with grease, a consequence of touching Harley no matter how many times Nyssa forces him to shower. Traitor. “No maiming is, like, the only rule here.”

Harley climbs off of them, elbows once again violating the rule on the way off. Nico actually feels his spleen compress into the size of an atom.

“Tough!”

The little twerp hands his prize to his big sister, who points it at the screen gracefully, as if she did not just use said brother as a weapon against two innocent people. Constantly innovative, those Hephaestus children.

Nyssa, on account of having hands like steel wires and a right hook that could make Muhammad Ali fall crying to his knees, is left peacefully alone with the remote. Nico glares at her, as he often does, with equal amount of hatred and awe. His emotions are widely replicated across the overstuffed couches.

She clicks rapidly through the channels, as she always does, fast enough that the sound echoes like static along with the rain.

breaking — jump! — traffic — learn — George — crayon — soil — sale —

She hardly rests in a channel for more than a second, cutting in the middle of sentences and even words, images flashing rapidly across the screen, swirling colour and skipping melodies, steadied by the roll of thunder, the patter of raindrops, the roar of wind and away of bending trees.

kids! — buy — gun — bridge — add — spade — colour — nine — east —

Austin sighs from beside him, sinking into the couch. Nico breaks away from the hypnosis for a moment to glance at the rest of the room and finds everyone else similarly entranced; eyes half-lidded and unfocused against the still-swirling TV, heads tilted back, curled into each other, limbs slow, fingers tapping quietly.

run — neat — rose — pasta — schools — closure — Sola — bumper —

“Wait,” Will murmurs.

gym — roll — climb — bush — accident — bud —

The old couches creak as Will shifts, Kayla pushed gently to the side as he moves forward.

“Nyssa, wait. Go back.”

The rain seems to mute itself. Nico is aware, quite suddenly, of the stiff set to Will’s spine, the odd quality of his voice. Nyssa, too, must recognize it, because she glances over at him, then slowly back to the TV, pressing the channel button once and setting the remote carefully on the coffee table in front of her.

No one grabs it.

“— terrible tragedy,” says a news anchor. “Unbelievably, really, Barbara, and something so sudden —”

“No,” Will says.

“Yes, Dave, always something you read about in old newspapers but never remember happens in real life —”

“No. No.”

He reaches for the remote but misses the first time, patting blindly on the table, and the second time, too, eyes glued to the bright screen. His hand scrabbles, nails digging on the old wood, increasingly desperately, but his eyes won’t move, face won’t pivot. Nico swallows, pushing back the sting of bile crawling slowly up his throat, the dullness in his ear, muffled like his ear is turned to a soundproofed wall. The hands he tells to reach over and hand the remote to Will don’t work.

“— almost makes me think of James Dean. That’s Naomi Solace, for those just tuning in, currently in critical condition from a head-on collision with a semi in Savannah, Georgia —”

Nico’s ears white out completely.

Will’s knees hit the floor.

———

#MORE IS COMING DO NOT LET ME FLAKE #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #camp half blood #solangelo #will solace angst #angst #emotional angst #my writing #fic #longpost

262 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 6 months

Text

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations:

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

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

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls.

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw.

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms.

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death.

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart.

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future.

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours.

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told.

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left.

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force.

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war.

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs.

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware.

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him.

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem.

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it.

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband.

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear.

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you.

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ]

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun.

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover.

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break.

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband.

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence.

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy.

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states.

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased.

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

673 notes · View notes

00angelyoon · 7 months

Text

- ᥫ᭡. angelic devilish deeds

orgasms are the best form of apology.

featuring: Yoon jeonghan x Female reader

synopsis: jeonghan being a little shit like usual but he knows how to apologise so your not complaining?

warnings: fingering, smut, multiple orgasms (fem receiving), pet names (good girl, baby, hannie and pretty) vaginal penetration and unprotected sex (don’t do this)

tags: est. relationship, makeup sex, smut and 50 follower special (18+)

notes: nothing just was in a manic jeonghan brain rot? this is old draft that i finished, consider this an apology for the seungcheol fic ?

navi

ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

“uhh, jeonghan don’t stop.” you don’t know how you ended up here. you had caught jeonghan stealing money from the bank while you guys were playing monopoly, you were just arguing with him but here you were on this couch while jeonghan was pumping his fingers inside of you.

“jeonghan.” you murmured lazily, he chuckled softly “baby am i forgiven.” he questioned. he brought his lips to yours, he smelled like fresh french toast, he tasted like warm apple pie, you were so disoriented from the pleasure you were experiencing you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him “am i.” he continued hitting just the right spot inside you, “yes.” you say in much more higher pitch than usual “you are jeonghan.” you continued he bit your earlobe “good girl” jeonghan whispered in your ear.

he kissed you sloppily still pumping his fingers inside you, you felt a knot growing in your abdomen, you knew you were close. “jeonghan i’m close.” he hummed in response. he began rubbing his thumb in a circle motion on your clit lazily. he began picking up his pace pumping his fingers more quickly “mmm jeonghan.” you moaned softly “jeonghan, i’m close close.” you continued “then cum.” he rubbed your clit more faster “cum if i’m forgiven.” you felt the knot in your stomach untying and that’s all it took for you to come undone.

“ahh jeonghan.” you scream out in pleasure, as you hit your orgasm he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, he’s still rubbing your clit to help you ride out your orgasm. “mm jeonghan, i want you jeonghan.” he tsked “i’m right here pretty.” you shook your head, you pinched his tricep “nonono i want you.” you emphasised the ‘you’ “you know what, its fine.” he kissed in between your tits “i’m supposed to be asking for forgiveness.” you giggled, jeonghan got up from the couch while unbuckling his belt, pulling his boxers and jeans off.

he pumped his cock a few times, he slowly aligned his cock with your entrance. he teased his tip and slowly entered. he lazily started thrusting inside you, “aah jeonghan.” you moaned. all the blood in your body was probably rushing to your brain, you forgot what you guys were arguing about but you knew he was forgiven for whatever you guys were fighting about.

jeonghan let out a low groan “so pretty so perfect.” he thrusted in and out of lazily and uncoordinatedly “tight little cunt taking me so so well.” you could tell he was close you were definitely close as well. jeonghan began licking your tits moving from one to the other finally settling on your right nipple kissing it softly and licking in a circle motion around your nipple while twisting your other nipple.

you started kissing the side of jeonghan’s jaw sloppily, the familiar feeling returning in your abdomen “mm hannie m’gonna cum.” he hummed “ m’close too.” jeonghan panted still thrusting uncoordinatedly but still hitting your g-spot perfectly. jeonghan started kissing you messily. you start to carelessly search for something to hold onto. jeonghan starts to thrust more rapidly, you guys joined in a wet and needy kiss “pretty girl i’m not going to last that long.” you brought your thumb to your clit rubbing it quickly and messily.

jeonghan let out a low groan “i’m sorry baby.” he started peppering your collarbone with wet kisses “so sorry.” he continued “where do you want me.” jeonghan panted out “inside i want you to finish inside of me.” you felt the knot in your abdomen slowly come undone and without warning you were cumming, jeonghan kept on thrusting in and out of you and he moved your thumb and replaced it with his own, to help you ride out your high, you were so fucked out and after a few seconds jeonghan was cumming aswell.

“you promise to never cheat again.” you teased jeonghan “well i mean if i get to have you like this every time i cheat.” jeonghan got up from the couch, you giggled and slapped his shoulder playfully. jeonghan left for a few seconds and then came back with a towel, he cleaned you up. “jeonghan do you want to play uno?”

ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡. ᥫ᭡.

550 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

Text

the touch of a hand lit the fuse

So, turns out y'all lapped up my dbf!Joel and now I'm kinda speechless? Like, tysm for loving this enough to like semi-blow it up. But never fear, our favourite neighbourhood DILF is back and filthier than ever today. I wrote this under the influence of a rather strong margarita, so forgive any mistake and the uninhibited filth you're about to consume. Enjoy.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Four days on from being spread on Joel's lap, he's back to fix up your attic when you're home alone.

Word Count | 3.6k

Warnings | I mean, blanket warning for dbf!Joel because he's always a menace. Alcohol consumption, NO USE OF Y/N, masterbating (F), unprotected PiV sex (Don't be dumb, wrap it up), age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), size kink, some dirty talk and that's it.

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

It was Wednesday and you were still reeling from what had happened at the party on Saturday. Whenever you led in bed there was the feeling of Joel’s fingers ghosting over you. You were ashamed of the number of times you’d touched yourself, trying to emulate how Joel’s fingers had felt inside of you, failing miserably, but still getting yourself off with tight circles on your clit, moaning his name into your pillow as you made yourself come. It was a dreadful substitute, but you didn’t have much choice – Joel had been MIA since he'd left on Saturday night.

You were sat at the table in the kitchen with your parents, sipping on orange juice and pushing eggs around your plate before they both went to work, “Oh, I forgot to mention, Joel’s coming over this morning to take a look at starting that work in the attic, you’ll be around to let him in, won’t you?”

You tried to keep as nonchalant as possible at your dad’s voice, “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

A house to yourself with Joel Miller, of course you’d be here, there was no-where else you’d rather be. Once your parents had eaten and stacked their dishes for you to wash up in your free time later, you raced upstairs to your room, dragging out the tightest pair of shorts you owned and a low-cut tank top. You’d never been the type to play into this sort of thing – if someone wanted you, then they could want you in your baggy jeans and jumpers, but Joel was different, and you knew it. You’d seen it the last time, how he fought to the last second not to give into you and his desires, you didn’t want to give him a reason to do it again.

You made quick work of hopping in the shower before pulling your clothes on, choosing a coloured bra to sit under your white tank top, but deciding against underwear beneath your shorts. Then you sat on couch and waited, anticipation rising with every minute there wasn’t a knock on the door. It took him another hour to arrive – the knock at the door dragging a gasp of surprise from your lips.

You practically ran to the front door, stopping only to run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath before you opened it. It never mattered where or when you saw him, he was always fucking gorgeous. Like now, stood in front of you, toolbox in hand, dark t-shirt and jeans clinging to him, hair mused and a smirk on his lips.

“Sorry I’m late sugar,” He breathes, “Had to cover a job first thing for Tommy.”

“That’s alright,” You smile, leaning against the door so he can walk past, “You want a drink of anything?”

You were slightly put out that he hadn’t immediately bent his head and planted a kiss to your lips, but you weren’t going to be a brat about it. At least not yet.

“Water’ll be just fine thanks,” He says over his shoulder as he’s moving towards the stairs, “I’m just gonna get started, don’t let me interrupt you.”

You’re not interrupting anything is what you want to say, but he’s already taking the stairs two at a time, as if he’s in a rush to get away from you. It hurts, but you try and swallow your pride for now. He wasn’t going to get away with it that easily.

You fill up a glass of water from the fridge with some ice, it’s hot after all, before you head upstairs. He’s already got the ladder from the attic down and is searching through his toolbox for what he needs, setting each different tool on his utility belt when he finds it.

“You want me to pass this up to you once you’ve tackled the ladder, Miller?” You ask.

He turns to you with his hand on one of the ladder rungs, “I’d be much obliged, sweetheart.”

You swear that he takes each step of the ladder excruciatingly slow just for your benefit, but you aren’t going to complain – it affords you a glorious view of his ass, fitting tightly into his jeans – had he done that to you on purpose, just like you did for him? You watch intently as he turns and kneels and sticks his hand down for the glass of water. You pass it to him, and he does exactly what he did with his bottle of beer on the weekend, grabs it exactly where your hand is so his fingers brush against yours. Lighting a fuse right through your body. If you could spontaneously catch fire you think this would have done it.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just shout.”

You flop yourself down on the couch, huffing out an annoyed breath as you reach for the magazine you’d been trying to read before he arrived. Thinking it would be easier to concentrate on now Joel was working away upstairs, you’re sorely mistaken. Your eyes glaze over the same two sentences – it’s an advice column, some housewife wanting to know how she could make her husband want her again after months of living in a dead bedroom. You don’t pretend to care, you look down to the bottom of the column – Andrea, 48. What you really want the editor to say in response is that Andrea should cut her losses, find someone younger, fitter and more handsome and sack off her obviously boring husband. What they really say is that she can spice things up by wearing sexy lingerie and being spontaneous, maybe you can try taking sex out of the bedroom for things to feel newer and more exciting.

They’d got that much right. Your brain is drifting back to Saturday night, sat on Joel’s lap with his thick fingers moving in and out of your pussy. That had been new and exciting. Maybe Andrea should try that with her own husband.

You sigh and throw the magazine to the ground – nothing is going to stop the bubbling lust and frustration in your stomach. Nothing except for what you really want, and that Joel, peeling your clothes off and seating himself so deep inside you that you can’t think properly. You can hear him banging around in the attic, unsure of what he’s actually doing.

Before you know what you’re doing, one of your hands is making quick work of undoing the button on your shorts, moving them just enough so you can slip your hand below the material. Your ears focus on sound of Joel’s footsteps in the distance. You bet there’s a thin film of sweat on his skin up there, you think as your fingers dip to the entrance of your pussy, finding yourself just as wet as you were on the weekend. Maybe he’s taken his shirt off, you think as the slick you’d gathered on your fingers make sliding them over your clit easier. The mental vision of the muscles in his back rippling as he bends to work and the way his arms would tense make bringing yourself to the edge of oblivion a piece of cake, but it’s the final vision you have of him pushing you against the dank attic wall and pounding into you that has you coming. You bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making noise, convulsing on the couch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

There was a slight feeling of embarrassment that sat through your stomach for a moment when you’d realized you’d gotten yourself whilst Joel was unaware upstairs. You quickly buttoned up your shorts and placed an arm over your eyes whilst you tried to catch your breath and before you could stop yourself you were drifting off to sleep.

You woke with a start God knows how long later, the sound of something hitting the ground drawing you from your dreamless nap. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes and saw Joel setting his toolbox by the front door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You mumble, pushing yourself off the couch.

“S’alright,” He smiles at you, “S’your house.”

“You get everything done?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Gonna be a big job up there, don’t have the stuff to finish it all today.”

You nod like you understand, “Anything else on today?”

He smirks at you like he knows what you’re thinking, “Nope,” is all he says, “You?”

You match his smirk, “Nope, convenient huh?” He nods, “You want a drink?”

You look at the clock on the wall, it’s nearing 2pm, “Beer?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You try and push down the arousal that pooled in your stomach at that. It hadn’t been two hours since you’d gotten yourself off but God there was just something about this man that made your blood run hot and turned you into something akin to a dog in heat. He follows behind you as you go to the kitchen, gratefully accepting the ice-cold beer that you’d popped the cap off.

You stand at opposite sides of the kitchen – Joel leant up against the counter near the sink, you doing similar against the breakfast island. It’s silent as you both eye one another up, taking languid sips of beer as you do so. You could cut the tension in here with a fucking knife. You made the first move last time, it’s his turn to do it.

“Y’know you don’t have to wear that kinda stuff for me, don’t ya?” His eyebrow is cocked, and you know he’s talking about the shorts that barely cover your ass and the blue bra he can clearly see through your top.

“Shall I take them off then?”

He’s leant against the kitchen counter, looking as casual as can be, but you don’t miss the way his eyes darken, glazed with lust. He takes another drink of his beer before setting the bottle down, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised.

“You wanna see me naked, Joel Miller?”

“You want me to see you naked?” He counters.

“You’re in charge baby, you need to tell me what you want.” You dare.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he’s thinking before he’s unraveling his arms from his chest, “Well, in that case, come over here and kiss me.”

Your feet are moving before he’s even finished speaking, closing the gap between you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up on your tiptoes as his own arms wrap around your waist as his dips his head and wastes no time connecting your lips together. As soon as they do you can feel the tension dripping from your body, pooling on the floor as if it never existed.

Joel’s got you pulled flush to his body, warmth radiating through the material covering your bodies as his mouth opens and he’s swiping his tongue across your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth and bites down slightly. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the slight bite of pain from his teeth, which is quickly forgotten when you can taste him on your mouth. The slight yeast from the beer, something minty, suggesting he’d been chewing gum whilst working and the inevitable flavour that’s just pure Joel that you cannot place.

His hands are slipping down from your waist to cup your ass – hands on bare skin where the globes of your ass meet the back on your thighs, dragging you further into him. You can feel his own arousal prodding between you which has a moan tumbling from your lips, swallowed by Joel’s own mouth as he continues to lick into your mouth.

His hands are sliding around to the front of your shorts, deftly undoing the button, not unlike how you’d done it just a few hours before. His hand is snaking down into the material and then he’s pulling away from your lips, a groan of frustration leaving your mouth as he does so.

“What’s this?” He asks, brushing his fingers along the seam of your pussy, “Didn’t wanna bother with lace today?”

“Saving time.” You mumble, a sigh leaving your lips as his fingers move lower.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, are you always this wet?” He groans when one of his finger’s dips slightly between your folds.

“Only for you,” Another sigh, “I… fuck, Joel…” You’re trying to get your words out but the way he’s brushing your slick up the seam of your pussy but neglecting your clit means it’s hard to concentrate, “I touched myself, thinking of you.”

He stops dead in his tracks, pulling his face away from you, “When?” He demands.

You turn your head to look at the clock behind you, “Probably two hours ago now.”

He growls, gripping you tightly to his body, “You filthy girl,” You can do nothing but grin, “You touched your pussy whilst I was upstairs?”

You nod, moving so you can press a kiss to his neck, “Show me.” He asks.

There’s confusion on your face when you pull back, “You don’t need me, obviously, so show me how you touched yourself whilst I was slaving away upstairs.”

He pushes you away from his body gently, and you’re going to turn around to walk somewhere to lie down and give him a show, but he’s stopping you, “Do it here,” He’s motioning his hand for you to stay in the kitchen, “Come on sweetheart, don’t keep me waitin’.”

You take your place leant back against the kitchen counter, running your hand down your body before it dips into your shorts. Joel’s eyes are staring holes into your skin as your fingers dip to your seeping hole, you let your eyes flutter closed as you gather your slick on your fingers, bringing it up to circle your clit. This time when you want to moan, you don’t bite down on anything, moaning Joel’s name as loud as you please.

When you open your eyes, fingers not letting up on pleasuring yourself, you can see him in a similar position to yours, palming himself through his jeans at the show you’re putting on, “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He coos from across the kitchen, “Bet I’d make you feel even better, right?”

“Oh god, Joel, please-” You gasp as you speed up the circles on your clit, “I want you to touch me.”

He chuckles as he steps forward to meet you, trapping you against the kitchen island with an arm on either side of you. He’s pressing kisses behind your ear but is making no attempt to touch you past that. Fingers still firmly pressing against your clit, you grind your hips forward into his own, “Oh baby,” He whispers, “D’ya need some help?” You nod, “What d’ya want from me?”

“Fingers-” You gasp out, “Put your fingers inside me.”

He kisses your neck, using his hands to push your shorts from your legs, letting them drop to the floor, before he’s kicking at one of your ankles to push your legs further apart. Then, he’s sinking one of his deliciously thick fingers right into your seeping cunt, causing you to cry out.

“It’s alright babygirl,” He chuckles against your skin, “Makin’ you feel good, right?”

He’s pulling his finger back out of your pussy before adding another one when he pushes them back in, “Can feel how tight you are, already, you gonna come for me?”

“Fuck-” You exclaim when he’s curling his fingers up inside you whilst his mouth drags hot trails across your collarbone, “Don’t stop, please-” You beg, “So fucking close Joel.”

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel.”

With the incessant rubbing you’re doing over your clit and the curve of Joel’s fingers inside you, you come undone. His name is almost shouted from your lips and you can feel his free hand on your waist, keeping you upright. On Saturday he’d worked you through the aftershocks, but not today, he’s pulling his fingers from your pussy, shoving them into your mouth and watching as you lick yourself off him. Then his tongue is back in your mouth and he's grinding his bulge against you whilst he laps up the taste of you on your mouth.

“Fuck, you taste so good babygirl,” He’s whispering once he’s pulled away, “One day I’m gonna spread you out and spend hours with my head between your thighs.”

Heat flushes through your body – you want to respond but you don’t have time. He’s turning you around and with a hand placed gently on the nape of your neck, he’s pushing you forward so your body is spread over the kitchen island. You can hear him unbuckling his belt behind you and you can’t quite believe this is about to happen.

When you hear the material of his jeans hit the floor you swear you can feel yourself drip down the inside of your thigh, you’re that turned on.

“I’m gonna fuck you sweetheart,” His body is towering behind yours as his hands take your hips and pull you back, “That okay?”

You nod and moan out a ‘yes please’ as he’s lining himself up behind you. You can feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds before Joel is sinking into you from behind. He’s slow because he knows it’s a tight fit, despite all your preparation the feeling of him stretching you is bordering on uncomfortable, but you just can’t get enough. He stills himself when he’s buried inside you to the hilt. You can hear his gasps and his heavy breathing behind you as he tries to calm himself down.

“Fuckin’ Christ baby, you’re fuckin’ tight around my cock.”

“Feel so full Joel,” You moan back at him, hands gripping at the kitchen island as he pulls back and thrusts himself back into you, “You’re so fucking big.”

You can hear him chuckle as his hands grip tighter at your hips, you’re convinced you’re going to have finger shaped bruises there, “That’s right babygirl,” He pulls out once more and thrusts back into your tight heat with more force than before that has you crying out, “Look at you,” He praises, “All spread out in your daddy’s kitchen gettin’ fucked by his best friend.”

It's filth but by God it’s doing the job, the way his voice is deeper, and his words are peppered with groans and gasps as he starts fucking you in earnest. You can feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust, any feeling of discomfort long gone, replaced just with an intense feeling of fullness peppered with ecstasy.

You feel a hand come back to the nape of your neck, travelling higher until it’s tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards so your back is arched. You can feel Joel’s hips snapping into your ass, the new arch of your back has his cock hitting a spot inside you that has spots blurring your vision.

All you can do is chant his name and let moans drop from your lips as his pace picks up again. He’s turned your brain to mush, not that you’re complaining. If you could keep the both of you here forever, locked in this state of secret pleasure then you would.

“Sweetheart,” He chokes out behind you, hand still wrapped in your hair, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes Joel, please-” You cry out, “Please give it to me.”

“So fuckin’ pretty sweetheart,” He groans behind you, “Beggin’ me for my cum like a good girl.”

When he pulls himself fully from your pussy you almost cry in frustration until you feel the warmth of his cum spreading over the cheeks of your ass. You can hear him moaning your name, one hand still firmly gripping your hip, the other, you assume, fisting his cock. When you’re sure he’s finished you let your forehead drop to the cool countertop whilst you catch your breath.

You’re vaguely aware of Joel pulling his jeans back on and the sound of the tap running behind you. The feeling of a warm cloth spreading across your ass as he cleans his spend off you. It’s almost robotic as he gathers you and turns you round, bending down to shimmy your shorts back up and over your hips. He even does the button up for you.

“You okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You smile, exhaustion settling into your bones as he holds you, “Never better.”

“Hope I wasn’t too rough sweetheart.”

“I don’t mind,” You smirk, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, “Want you to make me sore so whenever I move I remember this.”

“You can’t be real babygirl,” He’s chuckling, “You keep sayin’ things like that and I’ll never leave.”

You’re pulled from your post-coital bliss by the sound of a car door slamming out front. Your eyes widen and so do Joel’s. You quickly glance at the clock and realise he’s had you bent over the kitchen counter for far longer than you’d anticipated.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He’s mumbling, making sure he kisses your lips firmly, “I gotta get outta here, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod with a smile, you fucking hope so.

He leaves with a squeeze of your hand, jogging to the door to grab his toolbox. You hear the door open and then he’s greeting your mother with a ‘Hello ma’am, good day?’ – you can just about hear your mother recounting her day to him and then asking him how the work in the attic went.

“Went fine, still a fair bit to do so just let me know when y’all are going to be out again in the week and I’ll come back to finish up.”

“Well, you know we work all week and I’m sure that one in there won’t mind a little banging about from you.”

Oh if only you knew mom, if only you knew.

714 notes · View notes

squirmhoney · 5 months

Text

A DADDY FOR CHRISTMAS | SMUTMAS

Day two of Christmas Rafe x Breeding kink Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader Warning: Smut. Dark. Non-Con. Dub-con. Pet names. Violence. Face slapping. Breeding kink. Mentions of abuse. Possessive!Rafe 18+ MDNI A/N: I loved, loved and writing this one. But I have forgot how much I edited this last week so sorry for any mistakes.

Support me through my Ko-Fi linked here.

Lips trailed over the purple marks on your wrists, feather light to sooth the pain he had only created an hour ago.

Rafe didn’t mean to be so harsh, or that’s what he liked to believe, but seeing that pogue trying to worm his way into your good books, made his skin crawl.

You hadn’t even realised he was storming over, feeling his fingers dig harshly into your skin before you noticed his presence. Within a few minutes he had dragged you upstairs, lips inhaling your very being as he shoved you into some random person’s bed.

“What were you thinking?” Rafe growled, pressing his nose against yours. Your eyes were locked, unable to shift your head with his tight grip on your throat. “Have I not made it clear?”

“Raf-” You barely choked out in a wheeze.

He loosened up a bit, leaving you enough space to breathe.

“I-I-” You struggled to speak between your breaths, panting like some bitch in heat with his brutal pace.

“Spit it out,” Rafe grunted, sinking his fingers into your cheeks.

All you could do was stutter his name, pouting up at him to give you some sort of sympathy.

But Rafe wasn’t a sympathetic man, he didn’t care for the tears spilling over your lash line or the flushed colour of your skin. Not when you had been fraternising with the enemy, letting them take a look at what was truly his.

“I swear I’ll fuck the traitor out of you.”

His words barely resonated in your mind, not when his dick was dragging against your walls, leaving you a whimpering mess. Everything he said was words that he basically muttered to himself at this point and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t heard them a thousand times before.

“Need to find a way to make people realise you’re mine and only mine.”

“Yours,” You whispered between a strangled breath.

“What was that, princess?” Rafe asked with a harsh slap around your face, the sting bringing you back to reality.

“Yours,” You cried, a few stray tears painting your cheeks. “I’m yours, Rafe.”

Something in Rafe softened at that, pressing a gentle kiss to the reddened skin of your face. He shifted, dragging his lips across the skin of your neck as he painted in purple blemishes and bite marks. But he had done this time and time again, covering you in him and showing you off for everyone in the outer banks to see, and he still wasn’t getting his message across. Well not to everyone at least.

Without warning you found yourself squirting all over him, gasping out at the sensation as you grasped on to his arm for support.

Rafe chuckled against your throat, his teeth nibbling at subtle skin before pulling away. “I don’t remember saying you could cum.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe tutted at you like some disapproving parent, shaking his head as he pulled out of your velvety walls. He stared down at his tip, looking at the sloppy mess you had made all over it, even dripping onto the bed.

“Raf-”

His hips are slammed into yours with a hard thrust, tip hitting inside your stomach as he shoves your ankles over his shoulder.

It was pain mixed with pleasure, the thickness of him filling you in a way that had your body wriggling for room to escape. But with your body buried between his and the mattress, you weren’t able to move, only struggling against him as you sobbed.

“Take it,” Rafe demanded, forcing you to stay in position as he got back to his brutal pace. “If you want me to forgive you, you’ll take it.”

You blubbered out a small okay, hands grappling onto his shoulder blades as your nails dug into soft skin.

“Good girl.” He patted your cheek with his hand, a smirk drawing on his lips as a thought came to mind. “You’re going to my good girl forever, do you know how I’m going to make sure of that?”

You shook your head, struggling to focus as your mind became blank with each stroke against your g-spot. Your legs were trembling in between both of your bodies and you could feel your pussy leaking from the impending orgasm that you were fighting to hold back.

“You're going to make me a daddy,” Rafe sneered into your lips, thrusts becoming violent after that statement. “A daddy for Christmas, how does that sound?”

He couldn’t be serious, you had thought, you were only starting your twenties, this isn’t what you wanted. But there was a determination in his eyes and he only seemed to laugh at you when your eyes widened at the idea.

“You’ll make the perfect mum,” he told you with a strained voice, continuously pounding into your creamy pussy every time your lips opened to protest. “I think you’ll look so pretty, stomach round with my child.”

Your wailing at your second orgasm, somewhere between a sob and a moan as you tried to grasp what kind of sick reality you were living in. All you could hear was the sound of your voice, even over the wet squelching of your pussy, you didn’t even register when Rafe was groaning as he emptied himself into you.

He grins when he finally pulls back from your abused body, collapsing next to you as he catches his own breath.

Even with your quivering legs you tried to escape him, hoping in his fucked out state he wouldn’t realise you were slipping away. But not even a second before your toes reached the floor did he have a fist full of your hair, yanking you back into the bed.

“You didn’t think I was done yet, did you?” He questioned, placing you back into the same position as before. “Now it’s going to take more than one try to make me a daddy.”

“Please, Rafe. I can’t take anymore,” you cried, holding your sticky thighs tight together.

“You should have thought about that earlier,” Rafe hummed, prying your legs apart to get a sightful of your destroyed pussy. “Oh, it’s all slipped out now. Looks like we are going to have to keep going again and again…”

You felt the tip of him press against your clit, making you wince as he repeated himself.

“...and again-” Before he slipped right back in.

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #squirmhoneysmutmas

318 notes · View notes