#i can’t even describe how upset i would feel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sh4wty18 · 2 days

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rough day.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x you

summary: johnnie has a bad day and you comfort him.

cw: fluff, language, suggestive but nothing major

word count: 1.1k + edited

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You knock on Johnnie and Jake’s front door anxiously, staring down to re-read Johnnie’s most recent text over and over:

J: please come over.

Y/N: please come over? johnnie we’re dating, you don’t have to be so formal when you want to have sex lmaooo

You had answered him, but never received a reply. You read it at 4:48 pm. He read your reply at 5:01. No response. Not even an “lol”. Johnnie always replied to your texts immediately– he’s head-over-heels and everyone knows it. So when he doesn’t respond, you know for a fact something is wrong.

Jake answers the door then, causing you to jolt, startled. “Hey, is Johnnie here?” you ask immediately.

“Woah, it’s good to see you too?” Jake teases, clearly oblivious to any issue Johnnie was having, “Yeah, he’s here, in his room. You’re his girlfriend but don’t constantly know his location? Damn, someone doesn’t care about their relationship!” He makes a fake judging expression that can only be described as “yikes!”, and tugged on his shirt collar while pointing at you with his other thumb. He was joking, of course, but you weren’t particularly in the mood right now.

“Jake this is fucking serious. I’m going upstairs,” you push past him and run inside, hearing the front door close as you jog up the staircase to knock on Johnnie’s bedroom door.

“Hey baby, it’s me,” you say gently. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Johnnie replies, barely audible.

You open Johnnie’s bedroom door to find him laying in bed, buried deep under the comforter, with only the setting sun shining through the curtains to light the room. You close the door, take off your shoes and pants (for comfort), and walk over to Johnnie’s bed to crawl in with him. He stretches out of his curled position, and turns toward you, cheeks flushed and tear-stained.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” You lay next to him and pull his waist towards you, indicating to him to lay on top of you. You wrap your arms around each other and he rests his full body weight on you.

“I don’t know. I have nothing to be upset about. I’m famous, I’m wealthy, I have amazing friends, amazing family, and I’ve found the love of my life at twenty six. I am so fucking privileged and lucky, and yet I still feel like shit all the time. Why can’t I just feel fucking normal?” He sobs at the end of the question, and tucks his face into your chest, crying quietly onto you.

You don’t quite know what to say in response. So instead of offering unhelpful advice, you run one hand through his hair, pulling him firmly against your chest, as if holding him tighter would somehow transfer his pain to you. You kiss his head and whisper, “I love you,” over and over again until you hear his breathing slow, and feel his body go limp against yours. He needed to rest. Eventually, you feel yourself drifting off as well. You know that when you both wake up, you’ll both be in a better headspace to discuss the situation.

–

Two hours later you begin to regain consciousness. Somehow as you slept, your positions reversed, and now Johnnie was laying on his back with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, and your arm is draped over his stomach. You squeeze him lightly, and lean to kiss his nose softly. His eyes flutter open slowly, and he gives you a small smile.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, blue eyes meeting yours.

“Hi, pretty boy,” you respond, “Are you feeling any better post-nap?”

He lets out a giggle, and presses his lips gently to yours, “I feel better now that you’re here. I’m sorry I sent you that cryptic ass message with no response. That was shitty. I knew you’d be worried but I still couldn’t bring myself to reply. It was like I was stuck. I couldn’t move out of my covers until you got here. I was frozen, and all I could do was think about how fucking sad I feel right now, and also how fucking stupid I am for feeling shitty when I’m literally one of the most privileged people of all time.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, you’re privileged, but you recognize that, and you’re grateful. You’re still allowed to be sad, even with privilege. You can’t help how you feel, you’re human. And you’ve been famous for a decade! Most of your youth was spent online!! That’s fucked! You deserve to feel all these emotions! Not that I want you to be sad. I only ever wanna see you smiling. And I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could just take all your pain away forever. You are the best person I know, Johnnie. I hope you know how much I love you,” you say into his neck, where your face rests.

Johnnie tilts your chin towards his face with his free hand, “I love you more than anyone on this earth, you know that? I have no fucking clue where I’d be without you. And I know you think you suck at giving advice, but that was actually exactly what I needed to hear.” He kisses you again, passionately now, and pulls your body on top of his.

You run your hands through his hair while you kiss, his hands gripping your thighs as they straddle him, “Getting all deep and emotional with me made you needy, huh?”

Before he can respond, (and before the fire ignites in your lower stomach), you decide to pull away and hop off the bed.

“Noooo, girlfriend, come back,” Johnnie whines in a joking, childish voice. He gets out of bed too, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. He buries his face in your neck to kiss it as you walk in unison towards his bedroom door.

“You need to eat something, Johnnie, c’mon,” you say.

He doesn’t respond, instead he starts lightly sucking at your neck as you attempt to open the door. Your breath catches, and you let go of the door knob to wrap both hands around the back of Johnnie’s neck and pull him closer.

“Johnnie…” you mumble.

“Mmm?” he replies, lips pulling away from your neck and brushing against your ear, “I wanna show my, kind, smart, funny, gorgeous girlfriend how much I love her,” he whispers.

He spins you around to face him, and, walking backwards, leads you toward the bed.

You know he doesn’t feel completely better yet. He won’t for a while. But you’re not worried anymore. You have confidence that whatever happens– to either of you– you’ll go through it together. There is no one else either of you would rather experience life with– the highs and the lows.

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i'm not the biggest fan of this one, but i wanted to post it here! it's also on my ao3 :p

#sh4wty18 #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie x you #johnnie x reader #fluff #my fic #original one shot #one shot #fluff oneshot #original fiction

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ihavea-natural-curiosity · 3 months

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me looking at the fact that the only disabled characters in the atla la were cast with abled actors (as far as i know):

it just really hurts to think about how actors who are in wheelchairs, and even actors who are like me (not in wheelchair but still are actually disabled and have trouble walking) feel about this.

like how many disabled actors auditioned and were so excited to finally have a chance and have a roll but some abled guy got cast instead, i don’t even have a wheelchair yet and im upset, i can’t imagine how they feel. (i’m not upset at the actors for this, im upset at the directors and other people in charge of casting people)

i probably shouldn’t have put so much faith in netflix to cast things like this well, but still. i don’t even have the energy to be upset about things like this anymore, im just. tired.

(also if either of these actors are actually physically disabled, please tell me, i really hope i’m wrong)

#as a young disabled actor #(i act in physical theaters so it’s different but still)#if there was a role casting for a disabled character and some abled kid got cast #i can’t even describe how upset i would feel #let alone on a big name show like this #i’m personally against the idea behind (most) live action remakes #but if they’re gonna do it i wish they’d do it right #i’m just so fucking tired of young physically disabled people being so ignored #fucking sigh #natla #avatar the last airbender #atla #teo atla #toph

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babyleostuff · 5 months

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SAYING SOMETHING THEY DIDN'T MEAN IN A FIGHT | PERFORMANCE UNIT

𐙚 JUN

it would take a lot for jun to say something he didn’t mean, especially when it comes to you. he was always wary of what he was saying during fights or quarrels to not say something he’d regret later, but there were times where he was just too tired to think about what he was saying. i think he’d be the quickest out of all of them to apologise, like the second the hurtful words leave his mouth he’s already apologising, he just can’t stand your sad and disappointed expression.

“i’m so sorry, honey. i didn’t mean it, i truly didn’t mean it. i know i can’t make excuses now, i’m so sorry, baby.”

jun started babbling, not even letting you breathe after what he had just said. you wouldn’t lie - his words hurt, especially because jun never raised his voice at you during fights, so yes, you were sad and upset, but at the same time, a part of you couldn’t help but think how adorable he looked right now.

jun’s eyes were wide in panic, and he was holding your hands tightly in his, as if he was scared that you’d run away, which to be honest - you’d do if he didn’t have such a strong hold on you. hearing something so hurtful from the person you loved the most wasn’t easy, you felt betrayed and disappointed by his actions, but you didn’t want him to get so worked up over this either. “jun, baby, calm down.”

“no, i won’t. you have to believe me that i didn’t mean it.” you cupped his face in your hands, so his frantic eyes would focus on you for more than a second. “let’s just talk about it, k’ay?”

jun nodded his head quickly, helping you settle on the couch next to him, where you’d calmly talk about what had just happened (he’d keep on apologising for the rest of the day, even if you said you forgave him).

𐙚 HOSHI

things could get heated with this one really quickly, especially if he was stressed because of work or his schedules. hoshi would never intentionally take out his anger on you, but at the same time i don’t think he’s the best at managing his emotions, especially anger. he’d be so disappointment in himself after, though - like, the moment he says something hurtful (that he of course didn’t mean) he’d blame himself so much, and knowing that he hurt you would break his heart.

no words could describe the disappointment and embarrassment with himself that hoshi felt then. how could he hurt his loved one in such a cruel way? you didn't do anything wrong and he let his words and anger get the best of him, leaving you sobbing quietly in the middle of the living room.

“baby…” he felt like he didn’t deserve to call you that after what he had said, and you definitely looked even more upset hearing the pet name. “why would you say that?” you asked, your voice laced with so much sadness, hoshi felt his own heart breaking. he was sure your crying face would haunt him in his dreams now, but he deserved it.

hoshi knew it’d be for the best to leave you alone for a while now, so you could calm down and collect your thoughts, but he was afraid that if you left now, you wouldn't come back. he wouldn't even realise when his own tears would start running down his cheeks too. “I’m so sorry,” he’d whisper, covering his face in shame.

“i can’t hear you, honey,” you sniffled, wiping your face dry. “i-i’m s-sorry,” he hiccuped between the sobs. at the end, you both would start crying in each other's embrace.

of course you wouldn't forgive him right away, but you didn't want him to worry that you would leave him.

𐙚 MINGHAO

i feel like making minghao mad isn’t that hard, but that doesn’t mean he’d just lash out and take all of his anger on you, especially because he is a person that is good at managing his emotions. things could get really heated because of his pettiness and passive aggressiveness, though. sometimes he wouldn’t think through what he was saying or how he was acting, and how it would affect you.

“wow, minghao,” you muttered, looking at him with disbelief. “is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

when he didn’t answer, you turned on your heel and walked out to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. minghao, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the living room trying to wrap his head around what had just happened - what he had just said to you. the guilt started to catch up to him, his chest filling with crushing pain.

what made minghao feel even worse was that he didn’t react immediately and apologised. he didn’t even realise how much his words had hurt you at that moment, which made him feel like he was the worst boyfriend ever.

he’d give you some time alone, but when bedtime came, he’d softly knock on the door, your favourite snacks on a plate, and your favourite hoodie of his in his hand, and wait for you to open up. then, he’d apologise and have a proper, calm conversation with you. it was rare that you went to bed angry, minghao always made sure you’d make up before falling asleep, because in no universe would he be able to fall asleep knowing you were angry with him.

𐙚 CHAN

chan would never intentionally say anything to hurt you, you were the love of his life and he swore to do anything to keep you happy and safe at all times, so you’d have to get in a really big fight for him to say something hurtful. and honestly it would break his heart seeing your reaction to his words, he just wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. and as much as i don’t think that chan is an insecure person, i think he’d need a lot of reassurance after a fight that you still love him and that you’re not going to leave him.

chan stared in horror as a tear ran down your cheek. “baby, i didn’t… i don’t-” he saw your eyes fill with even more tears and if he only understood what had just happened, he would have immediately hugged you, but the problem was that he himself didn't know what had just happened. how the fuck could words like those even leave his mouth?

“are u going to say anything else?” you asked, sadness filling your voice. "say something chan," but he couldn't, he stood still, he even stopped breathing. shame and embarrassment consumed him completely, he didn't know how he would ever be able to look at himself after saying such nasty words to you.

he would stand and watch as you passed by him to leave the apartment, but he still wouldn't be able to move. when he finally realised that you had left the house and left him, he would just break down and cry in the middle of the room from the feeling of being so helpless. what if you really left him?

he wouldn't try to text or call you because he’d be afraid that all he’d hear would be "we’re over chan, don't call me ever again," and he wouldn't be surprised if you did. he acted like a total jerk.

when it finally started to get dark and you managed to calm yourself down, you went back to your place to calmly talk to your boyfriend, but all you’d find would be chan sleeping on your side of the bed, cuddled into your pillow with dried tears on his cheeks. that night he would be the little spoon, cuddled in your arms.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @hafsah-ali @mrswonwooo

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livwritessometimes · 8 days

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1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back - Lando Norris

: Lando Norris x singer!reader

: y/n is tired of this roller coaster ride

: Part 2 | Part 4

: Masterlist

…

Yourname added to their story!

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| kellypiquet replied to your story

-> my fav girlies 💕

Yourname: ❤️

*liked by kellypiquet*

maxverstappen1 added to their story!

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| yourname replied to your story

-> stop spreading false information

maxverstappen1: 🙅🏻‍♂️🙅🏻‍♂️

Yourname added to their story!

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| maxverstappen1 replied to your story

-> whatever helps you sleep at night 🤷🏻‍♂️

Yourname: next time it’s on sight 🥊

-> ✌🏻😚

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Yourname: Not a lot going on 💤

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User65: solo dates are the best! No one can convince me otherwise

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User09: Pretty 💕

kellypiquet: ahh so that’s where my black jacket was

-> Yourname: 😋😋

User67: Where is landooo?? Feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen y’all together

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y/nupdates: Singer Y/N L/N caught crying at the fashion show she was attending. The singer seemed a little upset throughout the event and even shed a few tears towards the end. What could have caused her to display such emotions in public!!

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F1updates: Y/N L/N couldn’t seem to hold back her tears as she watched the Miami Grand Prix. This is the second time this week that the singer was caught crying, could the race be getting to her or is there something else going on?? We can only hope that she is doing well.

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-> 🧡

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F1paps: L/N was seen leaving a restaurant in tears. The singer was reportedly waiting at the restaurant for someone (possibly Lando Norris) and seemed to be arguing on the phone. L/N was captured crying in the car as she drove away from the restaurant. This is not the first time the singer has been seen crying in public. Is this all a publicity stunt, or is there something going on behind the scenes?

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👤: kellypiquet

Yourname: Fixing something you didn’t break ❤️‍🩹

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kellypiquet: My beautiful girl <3

-> Yourname: 🫂 ilysm

maxverstappen1: my fav freeloader 🤭

-> Yourname: I’ll tell P what you said 😤

-> maxverstappen1: Now now, that’s no need for that, let’s have a peaceful conversation 😀

-> Yourname: too late now 😙

User38: it’s so nice to see you finally laugh and joke around, I hope you stay like this forever

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-> i can already smell a banger 🎶

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Yourname: Haven’t had the best month as you guys can tell, but the only thing that helped me throughout this tough time (besides my amazing friends) was writing. 1 step forward, 3 steps back is yours to play, sing, cry, enjoy.

Putting it into words wasn't easy, but I'm glad I was able to do it. Hope you like it and sorry if you’re able to relate to it <3

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maxverstappen1: absolutely beautiful

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charles_leclerc: masterpiece 🎶 lmk next time if you need a pianist I might have someone in mind 🤔

-> Yourname: tysm Charles 😂 definitely

alexandrasaintmleux: been playing this on repeat, you’re such a talented soul 💖

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kxsalt · 26 days

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An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

639 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

Hello! I just found your blog and I just started reading everything I saw 😅. Can I request 141 + König + Alejandro with a pregnant reader? They don't know yet and when the reader will break the news they are really stressed with work and end up taking it out on the reader, they end up getting into an argument and saying they hate the reader and that their life would be so much better without the reader in it (😈). The reader takes this seriously and leaves when they are asleep... Months later they meet again when the reader is on her way to the hospital to give birth (😈). Angst to fluff pls. If you don't feel good about writing or it's too big, that's fine. Have a nice day and thank you so much for all the time you spend writing to us.

The Things We Say // 141 Drabble

Summary: You're expecting, but it's not good news. To him, at least. Your relationship takes a hit, but once he meets your child, he's swallowed with regret for how he treated you.

Warning(s): angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of premature birth/complications, mild injury/blood, strong language, established relationship, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

A/N: I was hurting my own feelings---but, there's fluff after the angst, so don't get too upset besties<3 Hope you don't mind anon, I took some creative liberty because I didn't want them all to have the same plotline. | Word Count: 5.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

SYNOPSIS; he had been in the thick of it lately, sometimes more overwrought when at home with you than in active combat, it seemed. Conversations were either abrupt, crude, or nonexistent—often just building on top of the tension building between the two of you. Relationships were supposed to be fifty-fifty, but you felt you were carrying the burden of the whole percentage. That’s why the news couldn’t have come at a worse time—you, staring at the two lines instead of one. No matter how long you stared, double-checked the diagram, the answer was the same. Pregnant. So, now you knew two things for certain, you were expecting, and most heartbreaking—the other one responsible was at his worst. To break the news to him, it took every fiber of your being.

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

AFTERMATH; nine months of hell. That’s how you would answer if someone asked. Few people did though, even at work or out on the street. There was the occasional boy or girl, how are you feeling. But they were being polite, or taking pity on the pregnant woman without a ring on her finger. The pregnant woman with bags under her eyes, the one who winces with each step because she’s ready to pop. None of it meant anything to you, because the other half of this responsibility had been left in the dark, and not for much longer. You weren’t raising this child alone, no matter how irate he was going to be when you contacted him.

Price

One of John’s many talents; stewing on his feelings, keeping them suppressed for an unnatural amount of time.

Often so long that he forgot about the source of his anger once he had time to catch up to them. That is… Until his work was involved. Then he was an entirely different man, often spending his time deep in a bottle and with a nose deep in paperwork, with little regard for anyone else around him.

His control, it was typically so consistent, that he knew not to bring his professional problems home. But lately? It’s been anything but typical. He wasn’t what you would call mean, but there was definitely a negative word to describe it. Cold? Apathetic? Perhaps even unwelcoming?

The bickering, if you could call it that, had droned on for several minutes now. Though, it was mostly you venting your frustrations to an uninterested Price. ❝I know it’s not good timing, John. Why the fuck do you think I’m in here trying to reason with you? Are we just supposed to ignore this until we can’t anymore?❞ You hissed, tempted to rip the paperwork from his grip to get him to pay attention.

He always wanted children, but not right now. Naturally, that’s when it happened. He felt like he was drowning, at first only professionally, but now personally too. The funds weren’t a problem, the kid had two parents, but… you and him—nothing was working.

❝Sweetheart, I’m in the thick of it right now. Please.❞ He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to see how irritated he was. Perhaps at the baby, you, himself, or all the above. ❝I have a meeting.❞ He stood up from his workspace, steaming coffee in hand.

John walked away from you like you were a pestering soldier, not the mother of his child. Enough was enough.

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He thought he was slick, only giving you physical checks to see your face, to ensure that you were indeed alright. It was often the coffee shop within equal walking distance of your two separate homes. John would always slide the amount you needed across the table, a look of remorse on his face. Each monthly meeting, your stomach would grow in size, as did your drained expression.

But you wouldn’t talk to him. You would only text him the amount, nod when he asked questions. It was the worst torture you could put a man like John through—one that needed the approval of his loved ones. It just couldn’t happen, not yet. The wounds of how he treated you, they were too fresh, even after nine months of this routine.

To be truthful, you debated on even calling him when you went into labor. You could do it alone, right? With just the support of the delivery nurses, and most of all your baby girl as the reward? Perhaps you could wait until after, give him the respect to at least meet his daughter. For someone not carrying a child, he looked just as beat; sunken eyes, less tidy facial hair than usual, and somehow even more tobacco on his breath.

John was clawing himself from the inside out, begging for something other than a “yes” or “no” from your lips.

—

❝I can’t do this,❞ you repeated it about fifty times, tears streaming down your cheeks from both the pain and the distraught feelings. That plan you had to not call him, it was falling through quite quickly. This level of agony? You needed someone other than a doctor. You needed the father, as much as it pained you to admit.

❝Yes, you can dear, women have babies everyday.❞ Bless the nurse, she was trying her best to keep you calm, but it didn’t work.

What if something went wrong? If somehow you didn’t make it but your baby girl did, she would be alone until he got here… That couldn’t, no—wouldn’t happen. He needed to be there, right beside this bed to hold her in case you couldn’t.

In between your pained grunts, you finally spit out what you’d been trying to tell her, finding a split second of sensibility during all this distress. ❝Call… John. Please, call him!❞

—

The doors swung open faster than any of the personnel, his gaze softening when he saw you breathing in a patterned fashion. The nurse beside you gave him a nod, freeing your hand for him to take her place. John wasn’t going to miss this, and frankly, he was irked that he almost did. But he wasn’t irked at you; he was irked at himself for taking this for granted.

His soothing voice talks you through each contraction, a soothing hand dabbing away the sweat and tears streaming down your face.

❝I got you, sweetheart. You’re almost done pushing.❞ Though he looked gruff on the outside, inside he was distraught. You had maintained the cold shoulder throughout the pregnancy, but you still called him here? You were more than he deserved in his eyes.

The last round of pushing, and they were close together now. You had about thirty seconds to say this, before you were screaming again.❝I’m glad you’re here.❞ Despite all the pain you were in, you gave his hand a squeeze, staring at him with a glossy expression.

His eyes nearly watered; the first sentence you had uttered to him in months, and it was clear you meant every bit of it. You needed him and so did your daughter, right here right now. He pressed a kiss to your temple, a soothing massaging your shoulder.

John kept his tone firm on purpose, to emphasize how deeply he cared for you right now. ❝I’ll always be here for you, love. Always.❞

Simon

Simon loved deep; hated even deeper.

It was one of the features that drew you to him in the first place, how blunt he could be, how his broodiness contrasted your personality in more ways than one. His cynical behavior could be humorous, could be reassuring, but most of all—bitter. To add stress to the equation, to bring it home? He was an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

❝Simon,❞ you approached from behind, holding the test in your hands, because you knew the first question he would ask when you told him; is if you took one. Well, if he wasn’t actively cursing under his breath, he would’ve.

Instead, he merely flicked his eyes over for a brief moment, as if you were a stranger on the street that said excuse me. ❝Simon.❞ Your tone grew firmer, clutching the stick with more apprehension.

❝Bloody Christ, what?❞ He shifted in his seat, bloodshot and hooded eyes that only twisted the knife further. You couldn’t tell him now, not with the pressure of being on the spot. The right words just wouldn’t come out, prompting you to put the stick behind your back. ❝Goddamn nuisance.❞ He muttered under his breath as if it was only supposed to be an internal thought.

Though, he didn’t look all that remorseful about it—at least on the outside.

He had never said anything like that before, at least not to your face. It seemed, all the weeks of tension and cold shoulder, it was enough. You were done and out the door the second he’d dozed.

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Simon made a few futile attempts to reach out, but his own stubbornness prevented him from ever being face-to-face. He beat himself up so badly, and from his side of things—he’d only lost one person, not two.

It pained you to ask the delivery nurse to call him. You wanted to shove the crowning newborn right back inside and hold off, to go find him yourself and smack sense into him for putting you through this agony. But you couldn’t. Quite literally couldn’t get up, and didn’t want to. Resulting in pettiness and venom would make you worse than him because you would be using this child as a pawn.

He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. The nurses put a sterile drape over his shoulders, but he paid them no mind. His amber eyes remained on you; a bulging belly and an expression of pure agony. Had he missed something, a crucial chapter of your new life post-breakup? Most of all, why did you call him?

❝Hold my hand.❞ Simon found the side of your bed, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his forearm until there were imprints. He had few words, but the countenance of concern and guilt said it all. If this wasn’t his… you would’ve done this alone, or the father would be here. Then it dawned on him; it was his.

—

Hours passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned the obvious. Nine months without his support—financial or moral. You needed rest, as did the baby girl—so you were getting it, first and foremost. The adult matters would be better talked about when you weren’t still freshly recovering.

Simon tapped his foot against the tile, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was unsure of who to keep an eye on more; the newborn swaddled in her own crib, or you, exhaustedly sleeping in your hospital bed. Though he’d held the girl, it felt forbidden, like he was only a placeholder until your body recovered enough to do it yourself. It was shock preventing him from feeling, not cruelty.

You stirred awake, a sigh of contempt when you laid eyes on him. The labor was a blur your mind had already shut out, and you truly didn’t recall the nurses contacting him. Your eyes were glossy with dark circles underneath them. ❝I’m…❞ It was like the night you tried to tell him but couldn’t, the words wouldn’t come out.

Simon saw that look in your eyes; the fear that he would explode, or storm out and leave you with the child forever—but he wasn’t. All the years of trying to not relieve the same mistakes his own father made, it would be useless if he did that. And he couldn’t, seeing that look of desperation on your face, how you looked as if you were going to burst into tears at the sight of him. That look, it was the same one that gnawed at him during those months apart, how he found you and your belongings gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ❝Shh… Don’t apologize. Ever.❞ He was hovering now, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Whatever you decided when you were healed enough, he would take it like a man, because he had the audacity to speak to you like a man who wronged him.

Soap

Soap was… a complicated man to say the least. Usually, he was sweet, charming, with the right amount of cockiness. His ability to make you laugh drew you into him in the first place. But it was dwindling—at least during the past few weeks. Now, all that remained was smugness and bitter mutters under the breath.

❝Don’t be a child about this, we’ll figure it out,❞ He says, slamming his car door behind you. The first time you two had been out to dinner together in weeks, spoiled because you finally broke the news to him. You teared up in the restaurant because his reaction was anything but accepting, and frankly, he found it embarrassing.

He hadn’t meant it that way—that’s just how it came out.

He truly did want to figure this baby thing out, but it was the worst possible timing; an all-time high of stress at work, bickering with you constantly. And now, a third added to the dynamic with only months to prepare? It was too much. ❝Oh, I’m acting like a child?❞ You walked into the house, taking off the jewelry you had on to look nice for him.

The bickering that ensued—it was nothing nice, nothing you’d care to remember.

❝I don’t want you to go, lass. Don’t do this.❞ You had already made up your mind. Perhaps it was your emotions clouding your judgment, that instinct you felt being a few weeks along… It didn’t matter, you couldn’t be here. Not with him, not right now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were about to pop, literally any day now. You knew that meant you would have to talk to the father, and interact with him for about eighteen years—at least be civil. But the rationality of it, how you would have to co-parent with him, didn’t ease your anxieties. Of course, he was adamant about checking up on you and being more of a parasite than the fetus taking half your energy.

You closed the car door with your hip, a slow waddle up the pavement. Where the hell your keys were, that was another story—something you would deal with once you rolled yourself up to the door.

❝What the hell are you doin’?❞ The voice nearly made you drop all the grocery bags in your grasp, a jumpy shriek coming out. When you whipped around, it was Soap, a look of upset on his very expressive face.

Once you started to recover from the scare of a lifetime, an unintentional one at that, a scowl formed on your face. It was like he had a sense of the absolute worst time to show up and annoy you, especially now that you were swollen and extra agitated. ❝A phone call would’ve worked, Johnny. Or, I don’t know, maybe a ‘hey I’m right behind you, lady’!❞ You attempted to mock his accent out of pure frustration, but he didn’t find the humor in it, at least not right away.

He yanked the bags out of your grip, stomping up the steps of your porch. ❝You shouldn’t be carryin’ these.❞ You really should not be doing that, he was right, but the thought of him being your grocery boy—showing up even more? ❝Keys.❞ He held out his free hand, the other one swimming in bags. It was ridiculous, apparently, you weren’t allowed to twist a key now, either.

You shove past him once he’s turned the key, squeezing past and joining him in the kitchen. Without a word, he starts putting away anything and everything you bought. Some are nutritious, others purely to feed your cravings. ❝Don’t start.❞ You pointed a finger at him when he picked up a family-sized bag of candy, a smart-ass comment daring to escape his lips.

❝God, I can’t believe you, Johnny. Sneaking up on me like that, I could’ve fallen.❞ You put an instinctive hand on your stomach, still irked by his presence.

❝No, you would’ve fallen carrying all those bags yourself. I have a right to be worried, it’s my bloody kid too.❞ He retorts, a hand on his hip. He’s done all he’s obligated to now; carrying and putting away your groceries.

You tighten your lips into a line, fighting the urge to start a full-blown argument. ❝Yeah, you remind me every day, so thanks for tha— Shit.❞ It seemed, raising your voice counted as exerting yourself because there was a sudden cramp in your stomach, a trickle down your pant leg.

Soap’s eyes widened, seeing you go from scolding him to hunched over and holding your stomach. You had forced yourself into labor, now standing on knees about to buckle. ❝I’ve got you, now get going woman, before I put you over my shoulder.❞ He felt he had never moved faster, a tight fist around your forearm to keep you standing as he led you through the door you had just walked in.

—

It seemed there was little time between being admitted to actively pushing. This kid wanted out, and right this second. You let out a shriek as the back of your head slammed against the pillow, sweat trickling down your brow as you cursed and wailed. ❝I know it hurts, love, but you got this.❞ He allowed you to clamp down on his hand, to dig your fingertips until they drew blood.

❝Oh, you know do you?!❞ You snapped at him, finding it hard to be nice when you felt like you were being ripped in half.

❝If I wasn’t,❞ you grunted in between words, face scrunched and labored breathing, ❝stuck in this damn bed, I would so… hurt you right now, Johnny.❞ He fought the urge to snicker just a little bit, masking it with his concern for you. Seeing you in agony, even when you were actively snapping at him, it didn’t please him one bit.

Well, you were arguing with him, so he knew you weren’t actively dying.

If you used enough of that anger, it would help you literally push through the pain, just like how it caused the kid to want to come out right this second. For once, his pestering and sarcasm were actually helping.

With one final wave of it, your back arched off the bed and finally, the loud cry of an infant filled the white-walled room. Soap nearly fainted, if he was being honest—he was awfully squeamish for someone who dealt with blood daily. But it was your blood and… fluids, things that made him shiver when he pictured how painful that could’ve been.

The doctors were speedy, cleaning off and checking vitals. All he could do was stare at the newborn—his baby boy. And then he looked at you, choked up and stared in awe at the baby set on your chest. ❝Jesus…❞ he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on yours as it held the child’s head.

All the fighting, all the bickering, even the late-night candy runs—they were well worth it. He had a second chance now, to make things right with you, and to be a decent father.

Gaz

Gaz could be hotheaded, sometimes downright blunt, especially when he’s passionate about something to do with his work. The night you were going to break the news, nothing was going right. He came home in a huff, not bothering to take off his boots before plopping on the sofa. Kyle had a right to be stressed; look at what he does all day. But he didn’t have a right to be cruel to you because of it.

You took a seat beside him and set the positive test down on his thigh. A silence followed by a scowl, and then he finally spoke. ❝You can’t be serious.❞ It nearly gutted you right then and there. His leg began to bounce anxiously the longer he glanced at the life-changing test results.

❝Kyle, I—❞ you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say either, not that he gave you a chance. ❝I don’t have time for this, babe. I really can’t do this right now.❞ He put his head in his hands, a flustered groan escaping his lips.

❝Are you saying you don’t want this? That we shouldn’t have done this?❞ You were suddenly standing, eyes wide and watering. You felt like you had just been dumped on the street, despite his unclear tone.

He peered up, lips in a blunt line. ❝Maybe we shouldn’t have.❞ You could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there, but you merely nodded. Nodded and then left the room, leaving him to his moodiness. No, it wasn’t the best timing, but that didn’t give him the right to brush you off, to treat you like a distasteful afterthought.

It wasn’t just you anymore, it was you and the baby.

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It was one of his few days off—though he wasn’t feeling much relaxation. You were still hot and cold with him, now about halfway through your third trimester; thirty-two weeks to be exact. It was nearing that point, where he had prepared a spare room for the baby, began coordinating plans for labor, etc…

But he still didn’t feel ready, or like he deserved you after how cruel he was that night. Kyle was only helping you to help you and the baby.

His phone buzzed, right when he had begun relaxing for the evening. 10:32 PM; and it was your number. The second he heard the voice of a nurse on the other line, not yours, his feet were halfway out the front door.

—

❝I’m fine, Kyle. I’m fine…❞ It seemed no matter how many times you repeated it, he didn’t seem to believe it. From the minute he entered your hospital room to now, he had at least one hand on you, a thumb grazing the cuts and bruises on your body. You had been in a car accident—mild for you, life-threatening for a preemie. ❝You’re not fine.❞ he said firmly, eyes darting towards your clothes bagged in the corner—bloodied and with windshield pieces still embedded.

Kyle was more worried about you at first, but you were solely concerned about your baby—left alone in the NICU being poked and prodded by personnel. You had to be induced, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past the front doors. Now, he was too weak to be visited, too small and vulnerable to be held by his own mother yet. It was gut-wrenching; hours without a solid answer, because his chances depended solely on him making it through the night.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait, perhaps see your baby through a glass box if you got lucky.

—

❝He’s perfect,❞ Kyle peered down at the preemie in his hands, a baggy blue cap on his head. There were small babies, and he was somehow smaller. What once was the scare of a lifetime, it was now a passing memory to remind Gaz of what he could’ve lost. He would never make the mistake of talking to you like that again, even if the two events didn’t correlate.

What if the night you left, you got into an accident then, and it was much worse? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, plain and simple. ❝It’s cheesy but, he does have your eyes.❞ You whispered from the nursing chair you were sitting in, still healing and fatigued from the ordeal. The picture in front of you; Kyle looking at your son with such love—it was irreplaceable and forever stuck in your memories.

❝Correct. But he has your scowl, babe.❞ Gaz flicked his eyes upwards, feeling you gently nudge his shin at the sound of the comment.

It didn’t matter the things he said months ago, as long as he cherished this new life with you as much as you planned to.

Alejandro

Alejandro always had passion for the things he cherished; you and his work, nothing else mattered more. Passion led to intense feelings, intense feelings turned into misplaced bitterness. It wasn’t your fault that you were expecting, no more than it was his, at least. He knew that and had he just taken a breath and thought more carefully about his phrasing, this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

❝Do you think I wanted to interrupt you, Alejandro?❞ You hissed, standing in the doorway of his office with the positive test in your hands. He had just looked at you with such distaste as if you were the root cause of his stress and not his work.

What better way to stir the pot, than to match his wrath? Well, it certainly did that, though seeing him rage was the last sight you wanted to see. Alejandro always had trouble with his anger, often finding himself with all these feelings he had no clue how to control.

❝You always do what you want!❞ There it was, him blowing his fuse. He’d thrown his hands in the air, face tightened into a scowl. He couldn’t leave it at that, either, not when his rage came in such intense waves. ❝You’ll do what you always do—bleed me dry!❞

You couldn’t speak, despite how vicious you felt only seconds before. It seemed too truthful for your liking like he had been waiting for an excuse to spill his guts. ❝As long as you have enough to amuse yourself, I’m nothing to you, right?❞ He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his mocking tone was enough to tear at your heartstrings.

Had he seriously played that card with you—the man always insistent on taking care of you, financially, physically, emotionally? Now, of all times? The argument ended with you slamming the front door behind you, something he would’ve done.

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You spent weeks ignoring him, and throughout the pregnancy, it was dry texts or brief calls. His only sign that you were even alive was the notification that you had used his account to purchase necessities. The irony of it made Alejandro nauseous, how awful he made it sound that you were doing what he told you to; to let him take care of you. The fact that you didn’t drain the funds, only bought what you needed, spoke volumes.

❝I’m not upset at you, amor—I wasn’t upset with you.❞

Alejandro reached a hand across the picnic table, a firm but loving grip on your forearm. You looked beat; hair a different length than before, exhausted eyes that were brimming with tears, and most of all a growing stomach. It was all his fault; the reason you didn’t want to face him like this, in fear that he would cut you and the baby off for good. Only, he was there to see your face, not for confrontation or another spat.

It didn’t matter what you said, if you screamed at him right now, or said nothing. Alejandro had made up his mind the night you left. ❝I’ll come to every appointment, parenting class, anything.❞

—

Of all the nights for you to be in labor, it had to be during a wicked storm. You had gone over to his house to make civil conversation over dinner, to at least attempt at repairing things. He had slaved over the stove, cooking his favorite for you. For most of the meal, things were… surprisingly tranquil; even romantic.

You were heavily pregnant, were you supposed to refuse a warm meal? Not a chance. You were too full, too swollen to get up out of the dining chair once the meal finished. And looking out the window? There was no way in hell Alejandro was going to let you drive home in this; droplets whipped down, trees and waste bins flew away from the force of it, and the rain was icy. Well, you were exhausted, and he had a bed he was willing to give up. Your back and feet practically sighed in relief when you laid back in his bed, the one you two once shared. It was a nice feeling, being there again and knowing Alejandro was trying his hardest to plead forgiveness.

About an hour into your much needed-slumber, you felt a pool in the sheets. Instinctually, you figured it was the fetus pressing on your bladder—a downright embarrassing thing you’d have to wake up and explain to him. But… it was clear it wasn’t that. You were in labor and stuck here.

The shriek you let out when you got a violent contraction; Alejandro dashed quicker than he ever did when dodging bullets. His fumbling fingers dialed 911, yanking the comforter off the bed to get a better view of your dilation. Fortunately, he was trained on how to deliver a baby when stranded, or in a country without medical support. But this was his baby and your life was in his hands. If he didn’t do this correctly, if something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.

The ambulance wouldn’t be there for an hour—you didn’t have an hour to spare, this baby was coming now. ❝You can do this, amor, we’re doing this together.❞ One hand clenched yours, the other kept an eye on the crowning baby. Just how you hadn’t woken up sooner, neither of you knew. Perhaps you had gotten so used to cramps and pains, that you thought it was just another sleepless night courtesy of the little one.

—

The moment your wails went silent as his baby girl finally came, Alejandro felt his heart drop. He had to make the worst decision; focusing on the newborn first. He wrapped her in one of his shirts, wiping the fluid and blood from her small face. As he cradled her, a quick hand fingered for a pulse, a loud sigh escaping his lips when he felt one. You had only passed out from the pain—probably doing you a service, considering he didn’t have the proper medication to numb your pain.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the wailing child, still with gritted teeth. But your baby was there—and her lungs were very clearly working. Alejandro set her down on your chest, allowing you to hold your daughter for the first time. ❝You did so well, cariño. Look at her.❞ He was merely distracting you with the baby on your chest, to not divert your attention towards the state your body was in as he cleaned you up.

Somehow, he had pulled this off with both his girls safe, soon to be checked out properly at a hospital. When you first broke the news, he thought he knew the meaning of being so suddenly thrust into fatherhood, but that took on a whole new meaning after tonight.

König

There had once been a line he didn’t cross, but he did that night. König never yelled at you. He saved that stern side of him for his work because it was acceptable there. But in the weeks that his work had bled onto you, spoiling the relationship, his values seemed to loosen. Though he was a complicated man, a man uncertain of himself and his appearance, he maintained a hardness about him. Ruthless in the field and immensely protective of anyone that had come to love him.

You approached him as he worked, placing the test on the desk he was sitting at. ❝König, I need to tell you something.❞

With his head facing the paperwork, he merely shrugged at you. Until he saw what you’d placed there, his eyes going wide. But it wasn’t shock or excitement; it was disdain for the fact that this baby was just another interruption—you were just another interruption. ❝I have no time for this, Schatz, you know that.❞

He didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to sting, his bitter tone was more than enough. But he surely hadn’t meant it like that, right? He’d meant he didn’t have time for this right now… right?

❝Why don’t you go rest, then?❞ He asks, picking up the folder that he was reading previously. It wasn’t a request made out of concern, König was patronizing you. His glare was typically enough to make a soldier scramble, but you just stood there for a few seconds, biting back the urge to choke.

How you left that night, it wasn’t dramatic or emotional, it was dry. König tells you to think clearly about this, to sleep on it. But you couldn’t—and you weren’t going to be a verbal punching bag.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

König only called you weekly for appointment updates, or to let you know he had sent you a check. Other than that, words dripped with tension and the urge to say so much more. But you were too stubborn for your own good, and so was he. You were more concerned with hosting life than playing games with a father who treated you like a wimp.

He’d only seen you once, during the second trimester when he showed up at your apartment. You protested, but he showed up anyway, saying he needed “proof” that you and the fetus were safe. The voice on the phone wasn’t enough, in his eyes.

Of course, when you needed him most, screaming and keeling over in the kitchen, he wasn’t there. It was a neighbor that called an ambulance for you because they knew they had a pregnant tenant next door. In fact, it was such a close call, you nearly didn’t make it to the delivery room before the newborn came out wailing.

The only plus side? While the paramedics were deterring you from pushing, you’d sent a text—probably unintelligible—but a text, nonetheless. He knew your due date, how today was only a few days off, and he was in his car before he could grasp the severity of this new life stage.

—

❝I’m here, schätzchen. I’m not going to hurt you again, or him.❞ He hunched over the bed, eyes in a perpetual state of disbelief as he watched you soothe the whining newborn. Clarity hit him like a truck when he heard your screams during delivery, and then he was all in. Not that he had a choice, this was his doing too.

He had given you the financial support to get proper nutrition for you and the baby, to pay for the appointments, but that wasn’t enough—not in König’s eyes. He needed to snap out of his self-pity and be a support system. Whether you wanted to co-parent or work on repairing the relationship, you were not under any circumstances taking care of this newborn alone, at your apartment.

He placed a hand in your hair, threading his fingers through the strands. ❝We can clear out the spare room, hm? There’s more than enough room for the two of you.❞ He was already picturing it, how he was going to pull an all-nighter and get to work on the room, going to your apartment and moving the baby supplies from yours to his.

König didn’t need to state the obvious, that you weren’t bound to any type of relationship besides the one concerning the child. Whether you wanted to move out once the baby hit a certain age or not, he was going to keep an eye on the two of you.

Two of you, not just the newborn you were rocking. It was either both of you, or neither, and he was intent on it being the first option.

If you made it this far - THANK YOU!

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #captain john price #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #konig x you #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #task force 141 x y/n

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ovaryacted · 3 months

Note

*clears throat* subspace!Leon. That is all

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Yeah, yeah…yeah. Let’s fucking cook for a second. (I’m gonna write this out in a rush at work so if it’s choppy I’m sorry lmao).

Let me set the scene: Leon completely fucked out and a mess after feeling so good. It doesn’t matter what exactly was done, what position he’s in, whether he’s on top or more on the receiving end. He’ll just turn into a whiney mess and craves more attention and affection. If he’s in missionary, he’d dig his face into your neck and wrap his arms around you, probably start crying and mumbling in your ear because he has no filter when he’s in subspace. He says the first thing that comes to mind: I love you, you feel so good, more more more. His inhibitions are just completely unrestricted, and he gets clingy and more desperate even if he’s the one fucking you.

But if you’re the one fucking him? That’s another story.

Whether that’s you riding him without stopping, edging him, or fucking him with the strap, he’s a goner. Leon isn’t used to being so pliable, to be put in the position to just receive. Pulling on his hair or biting at his ear will send him into a frenzy, touching him any which way after he’s climaxed twice makes his mind go blank. Every part of him is sensitive and hyperaware, twitching and on edge the more you do or say to him. He can’t think, can’t speak, can’t describe how he feels or can verbally say what he wants. He just lets you use him in a way, wants you to get off because what helps you reach that edge is what arouses him by default.

Leon would have his hands everywhere, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, all glassy and unfocused. Tears would be rolling down his flushed cheeks, and his breathing is just so shaky, his chest rising and falling with every groan and whimper he releases. The moment he hits the edge of overstimulation, his brain just stops working, talks incoherently under his breath and continues to whine like a bitch in heat.

You’d have to be gentle with him, make sure he doesn’t slip too far because he can. Leon finds comfort in the lack of control, in the ability to no longer have to think and have someone else lead. It’s what he wants, what he needs, what he craves.

His lips would be everywhere too, having an oral fixation he needs to have something in his mouth to calm down or to stay present in the moment. Your favorite thing to do is to guide his face towards your chest, letting him suck at your nipples while you run your fingers through his hair as you fuck him. He whimpers when he gets to do that, just sucks on them comfortingly and hums mindlessly as he does. If he’s really that deep into subspace, he’ll call you Mommy under his breath and will get upset if you pull him away from your chest too soon.

After you’re done with him, it’s all softness and affection for the rest of the time. Gently caressing his body, telling him affirmations and words of love and affection as he comes back from the immense high. You don’t rush Leon from the comedown, and depending on how intense it is, he’ll need more attention or more time with you for reassurance and comfort. Anything he needs, you’re willing to provide, because it’s what he deserves and because you love him. Simple as that. You make him feel safe and loved in his arms, and it’s so easy for him to slip away into sleep knowing you’d be there in the morning when he wakes up.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil drabble #ovaryacted asks #sub! leon kennedy #Leon in subspace #yeah

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months

Text

Blood or Contract

aemond x wife!reader

A/N: writing this made me a tad bit sad but I hope the requester enjoys😭 request is here

summary: your husband finds humour in harsh words spewed at your family

TW: angst

word count: 762 words

When Vaemond Velaryon spoke that filth about your mother, about you and your siblings, you had of course expected your husband to support you in your rage. All Aemond did was smile. You even believe that he would have laughed if it wasn’t so improper. He had always cared for propriety and his family much more than yours. But you thought he favoured you more than that. You thought you were important to him.

“You’re upset.” He states when you enter your private chambers. “You’ve been quiet since the succession claims. I would have thought you would be pleased.”

You turn to look at him, even more hurt when he can’t understand why you feel this way. “You were amused.”

He clearly doesn’t know what you’re referring to. How can he not know what you’re referring to?

“About what?”

“Vaemond Velaryon called my mother a whore and you practically laughed!” You raise your voice at him. “He called my brothers bastards! He called me a bastard.”

“I was amused by his audacity.” He says coolly.

“That sentence amuses me.”

“Don’t accuse me. I would protect your honour with my life.” You want to think he means it but you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you take his head yourself?” It is perhaps a silly question but you’re angry and you want him to feel it.

He scoffs. “I’m not so reckless as Daemon.”

“You could have had the decency to look angry about it.” You sigh. “A whore, Aemond. He called my mother a whore.” There’s hardly much worse for a woman to be called. All sorts of demeaning repression bundled up into a single adjective.

“You are my family. I am eternally defensive of you.”

“My family is yours as well.”

He almost seems to cringe at the concept of that.

“He called me a bastard.” Such a strong word, a disparaging remark that you haven’t been able to escape your entire life. It’s sticky on the soles of your feet, a stain on your dress that you can’t remove. It’s in the colour of your hair and your eyes and it follows and draws attention like a shadow that has decided to glow bright.

“You’re different.”

There couldn’t have been a worse response.

“I am the same as them and there is nobody I would want to be more binded to.” He wants you to speak these words about him; he's your husband. There shouldn’t be another person in all of fucking Westeros that you speak about this way.

“You are more than them.” He says. It’s supposed to be a compliment.

“Why, because you can fuck me? Because I shall carry your heirs? Your children, if they will grow in my womb, will be just as damned as I am. Their blood will be just as tainted.” The words are full of such venom that it angers him. He adores you and yet he despises the blood that’s in your veins.

“Nothing made by you could ever be damned.” Oh, the blasphemy. You wonder if he would ever say such a thing in the presence of a septon, or perhaps in the presence of his mother. “I won’t have you speak of yourself in such a way.”

“I can’t, but you can? The word ‘bastard’ used to tumble from your lips like prayers.”

“I have apologized for that. I swore I would never use such a word to describe you or your brothers again and I haven’t.” He defends himself, perhaps it is a fair defence.

“In my presence, you have not.” It’s a half agreement.

“I won’t be called a liar by my own wife.” His jaw clenches.

“I don’t recall using that word.” You say as you give him an innocent look. He sighs again, rubbing his temples.

“What does it matter now? We are wed. You are royalty and a Targaryen.”

“By blood or by marriage?”

“My love-“ He starts. He wants to talk you down.

“Am I worthy of you only because I am married to you?”

Is it some fucked paradox?

“I shan’t warrant such a silly question with an answer.”

Is that all you are? A silly girl?

“I’m going to my chambers.” You whisper out and what an off putting sentence it is. You practically live in Aemond’s chambers. Everyone considers them yours as well. The other ones are only kept for propriety’s sake. And now you’re leaving them.

“I don’t want that.” Is all he can say.

“Will you command me to stay?”

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t.

You walk out the door.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

#aemond targaryen #aemond angst #aemond x reader #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon

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kirishima-eijirock · 5 months

Text

@katsuslover asked: Making katsuki jealous by talking w deku or something and he's all sulky and a baby and u show him why he's better

a/n: omg hell yessss I made it a little angsty but I hope he’s not too OOC

You narrow your eyes at the blonde sitting right in front of you. His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a deep frown that you’ve never seen before. Clenched fists that are slightly shaking, he glares down at the floor with such an intensity that almost frightens you. Almost.

He’s been that way for the past half an hour, with no warnings at all. It’s weird, how this morning he wasn’t giving two fucks about anyone or anything at all, and now he’s just… furious isn’t even the word to describe it. Neither is rage. This is something else, and you knew it.

“Kats, just spit it out already.”

You’ve been trying to coax an explanation out of him for the past twenty-seven minutes, and yes, you’ve been counting. He’s never hid his anger from you. Or anyone, actually. But definitely not you.

“Kats, I swear to god, if you don’t start saying anything then I’ll go back to my conversation with Midoriya—”

“Get that bastard’s name out of your mouth.”

It was a quick mumble. A short demand. A command, if you will. He’s never said shit about Midoriya with such pure hatred that it did confuse you, and you started to question if you really understood Katsuki in the first place.

His brow furrowed and his teeth gritted, his glare shifts from the floor to your shoulder, avoiding your direct gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to glare at you, no. The last thing that he wanted to do was to direct his anger at you. You were one of the most precious people in his life, and he wasn’t gonna risk anything, much less even glaring, to fuck it up. But looking down and glaring at the floor looked utterly pathetic, too. So his eyes dart from the wall behind you, to your shoulder and neck, but never your face. You didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t your fault, either.

He knew it’s not your fault, so why did it sting so much to hear you laughing with that bastard? He didn’t get it.

“Never mind. ‘M fine. It’s nothing.”

“Kats, you can’t be mad like that and not explain yourself.”

It’s true. He knew that he owed you an explanation, and a good one. Shame crept up on him as he realised that he snapped at you. That you were on the receiving end of his anger. The promise he made to himself— to never, ever make you upset, or to ever let you feel like the reason that he’s mad— was now broken in his eyes.

“I’m… sorry. For snapping at you. It’s not your fault,” he mumbled under his breath.

It wasn’t snapping, but he hated the fact that he still could have upset you.

“Kats, it’s okay. I’m fine, I promise. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything that’s on your mind, right?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, though it’s clear that his snapping only made him more irritated with himself.

“It’s not nothing if you’re…” you trail off, not wanting to point out the current tears in his eyes.

“Huh? I’m what?” Still oblivious to the tears, he looked around and found nothing.

“Kats, seriously. Tell me, now.”

The firm gaze directed at him from your eyes made him freeze, and the gentle tone in your voice made him hesitate. He was surprised, to say the least, that you were still here, trying to help him while he stood there in front of you like an idiot. If you left now, he wouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, he understood why you would do that, and he couldn’t blame you. This emotional, vulnerable part of him finally showed for the first time in your relationship.

It surprised you, just a little. You knew he hated showing emotions besides happiness and the occasional happiness, but never tears. He never cried solely in front of you, at least.

He felt weak, so… pathetic.

And on the other hand, you were there, trying to help him and coax some coherent words out of him, before finally giving up with a sigh

“Kats, if you don’t wanna talk, then we can save that for another time. I won’t push you any further if you’re getting uncomfortable.”

He’s never felt comfort like this. Not warmth, or such gentleness either. It’s so new to him, but in the best ways that he couldn’t describe.

What was this feeling? His heart was bittersweet now. His loathing towards Midoriya was worsening, but the sweetness in your voice was making it fade away slowly.

“I promise I’m fine,” he rasped out.

“Okay, Kats. As long as you’re alright,” you murmured, not really pushing him to speak unless he really wanted to.

He took a deep breath, not sure how to address the issue.

“Look, I don’t know what to feel when you’re talking to that damn Deku,” he stated plainly.

“You don’t know what to feel? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stopping you from having friends, okay? I just don’t like how giggly and shit you were with him,” he huffed.

“Well… why not?”

“It just bugs me, that’s all. Just feel like I should be the reason you’re laughing. Not him.”

Oh. It finally clicked in your mind. He was jealous. You wanted to point it out, but it could sour his mood further, so you decided against it for the time being.

“Well, if that was the case, you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

You were too sweet, too understanding. It was hard for him to believe that he deserved it. That he deserved you.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, Kats. You don’t need to worry that I’ll be upset, okay?”

He nodded slowly, still not used to this amount of sincerity and care from someone.

He was never this soft, or vulnerable to anyone. You, however, were an exception. He wasn’t afraid to show it to you, and even though he wasn’t used to it, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Thanks…” a soft mumble of thanks left his lips, happy how this confrontation went.

@angelshimaa angst for you :)))

#kiri next and im gonna make two versions of this LMAO #bnha #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou

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lizardaggro · 6 months

Text

on the flip side (twst bully!au) part 4

sorry this didn't get out sooner; my sleep issues are really upset (might be daylight savings?) and i spent most of the past few days feeling like a zombie. i'm better now though! it's also a bit shorter than i'd like, but i didn't want to leave you guys hanging. also two fics? in one day?? crazy!

part 1 part 2 part 3 genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, yandere has officially escalated word count: 897

“Child of man,” Malleus said. Even his voice felt suffocating. “Lilia has informed me that some… pests have been bothering you as of late.” He must mean the others. Did he really not know? Well, you supposed it wasn’t too farfetched, since he didn’t have any friends and everyone was afraid of him, especially after his Overblot. “You need only have let me know and I would have… taken care of them. But worry not. You’ll be safe here, where no one would dare to harm you.”

Oh no. Oh no no no. It was finally happening. Malleus had lost his mind. It felt a little nice, you’d admit, knowing that at least one person still cared for you. But that didn’t mean you could accept being trapped here for who knows how long. You still had to take care of Grim and attend classes. Not to mention you hated feeling trapped.

You knew you couldn’t count on anyone to save you. Lilia was the only one who might be able to make him see reason, but he seemed to be fully complicit in the matter. The dorm leaders might be somewhat capable if they worked together, but they’d have no motive for that, other than to torment you further.

Getting angry and yelling wouldn’t solve anything here. You had to be smart about it. “Tsunotarou, I can’t stay here. You know that,” you reasoned. “I have responsibilities to take care of. Besides, wouldn’t you grow tired of me? Everyone else did, after all.” You surprised yourself with how true your sentiments were. Maybe you harbored more negative feelings about all of this than you’d realized.

Naturally you were pissed that everyone turned on you, but you’d never really stopped to think about how lonely you’d been. Even your professors would hardly give you the time of day. You didn’t even know what you possibly could’ve done to set them off. Grim and the ghosts were the only ones whose attitudes never changed; but it wasn’t the same.

Malleus was pouting; there was simply no other way to describe the look on his face. “Surely you don’t mean that; not after everything they’ve done,” he quipped. Was he serious? In what way did he think you’d enjoy being trapped inside one tiny room for who knows how long?

“Yes. I do. And I don’t appreciate you taking away my freedom like this. If you really cared about me, you’d respect my wishes.” You hoped appealing to his emotions would work, no, you needed it to work. If it didn’t, you weren’t sure how long your sanity would last.

“I do care about you, Child of Man,” he objected. “Can’t you see that’s why I’m doing this? It isn’t safe out there. You’ll get hurt by those vile beings you once called friends.” He spat out that last word, like they were undeserving of the title. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

There was one thing you did know, however: this man was delusional. He’d gone paranoid with worries for your safety, even though he knew nothing just hours ago and was fine. He’d always been a little possessive, you’d noticed, but you’d brushed it off as him being afraid of losing his one and only friend. Now this? This was a whole new level.

Ah, but then you remembered. Malleus knew about most of the bullying, but not all of it. You doubted Lilia would’ve tattled on his own dorm members. You smiled, catching him off guard. “But am I any safer in here? I bet you don’t know, after all. You don’t know how Sebek would beat me in the halls, how Silver watches me everywhere I go. It’s creepy; I don’t like it. And I’m sure Lilia didn’t tell you how he tries to poison me with his cooking,” you listed calmly, as if you were having an ordinary conversation.

“They WHAT?!” Malleus shouted. “LILIA! SILVER! SEBEK! GET OVER HERE THIS INSTANT!” You flinched; he was usually so calm, you didn’t expect him to suddenly yell like that. It was good that he believed you, not that you were lying. You didn’t have a backup plan.

As the unfortunate trio entered the room, you made your way over to the door. You thought you’d managed to slip out unnoticed, but Lilia shot you a wink. Did that mean he’d keep his mouth shut about your escape? You could only hope.

You ran through the halls, Malleus’s shouting covering up the sounds of your footfalls. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so you weren’t at risk of getting lost. The only question was how long the lecture would last. If you were lucky, Lilia would buy you some time, but you wouldn’t count on it.

And then, at last, you were safe, on the other side of the portal. You were totally winded, after having had the run of your life. Everything seemed great, but then you heard a voice.

“Oya? What do we have here? What were you doing in Diasomnia, prefect?” Jade asked with a definitely fake smile like he didn’t know exactly what you were doing in Diasomnia. Oh, great. Azul was with him too. How… lovely. Staying with Malleus was starting to sound like it wasn’t so bad after all. No, nevermind. It was definitely worse.

taglist (CLOSED): @twistedcece @slxt4h1m @teawhere @pleasehugmeaether @reivelmin @aoiyx @trashlanternfish360 @probablynoposts @d3sperate-enuf @mono273 @help-whatdoimakemyusername @justuraverageeverydaydegenerate @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst bully!au #twst bully au #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #diasomnia #twisted wonderland silver #lilia vanrouge #azul ashengrotto #jade leech

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carmyboobear · 2 months

Note

Carmy gives me such little spoon energy. The man just loves (and needs let’s be real) to be held by you. It’s so comforting to him especially after a long day at the restaurant

anon you GET IT. He 100% NEEDS to be held. He works so hard everyday! He never lets himself rest, but I think once he lets himself let go and get taken care of…man. I don't think he can get enough of it!

Here's the set-up: both of you in bed after a long, long day. It doesn't really matter if it's The Beef or The Bear, but I'm imagining The Bear in this scenario. You could tell how upset and tired he was from the moment he entered the front door. After getting some food in him and showering with him, you're both laying in bed.

“D'you wanna talk about it?” You ask. You're both laying on your side, facing each other.

“Not really. I mean, it's just the same old shit.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “‘M too tired.”

“I get it.” You bring a hand up to his face to brush damp curls out of the way, but he nuzzles his face into your palm instead. “Wanna just cuddle instead?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your palm. He takes your hand in his own to keep it there, and he presses little kisses into it. It makes you smile, a bit giddy. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his chest. You close your eyes, expecting him to wrap his arms around you like he usually does, but then he doesn't.

“Is something wrong?” You crane your head back to look at him. You can only describe his complex expression as a mixture of shyness and apprehension.

“It’s nothing,” he says quickly, so clearly uncomfortable.

“C’mon, tell me,” you chide him gently. “If you just wanna go to bed, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s…” He’s silent for a while before he speaks again. “Can I…ugh, this is so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Carm. I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“I wanna be the little spoon,” he blurts out, and that’s all it is. But his cheeks are flared like he just got caught with a secret.

“Oh, is that all?” You can’t help your amused smile. “I’d love that, actually.”

“You…you would?” The bewilderness in his face shows that he obviously didn’t think it was gonna go this smoothly.

“Of course I would. Come here, baby.” You sit back and out stretch your arms, leaving a space for him to snuggle into you. He only wavers for a second before tucking himself into your side.

“Not weird?” He murmurs, head laying against your chest. His arm wraps around your waist, and one of yours is tucked behind his back.

“Not weird at all.” You start running your fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging across his scalp, and he lets out a contented sigh. He leans into your touch, and you are distinctly reminded of a cat. “Does that feel good, Carm?”

“Mm,” he hums back. A small grin appears on his face. “Needed this.”

“Is that right?” His eyes are closed, so he can’t see how affectionate your smile has become. “You always work so hard. Poor baby.” You lean down and pepper his forehead in kisses.

He must’ve been really tired, because he falls asleep almost immediately after that. Even though your arm goes numb, you don’t have the heart to push him off. If anything, he just curls further into you. After pressing a little kiss to his cheek, you gradually drift off into sleep next to him.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #my asks #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my blurbs #pic of the eepy boy for full effect

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mr-bas00nist · 4 months

Note

I’m not sure wether or not your requests are open, I couldn't find a post containing much information, but I have a good idea! Or, at least what i think is a good idea... Okay so hear me out, slashers x blind s/o, and like the slashers get upset if people dump palets or stuff on you during a chase. (Silent hill)

Taking a leap here, assuming you want pyramid head in this with the Silent Hill in parenthesis and I’m gonna assume your requesting killer reader. I’ve gotchu 😏

Contains: Pyramid Head, Danny Johnson, Micheal Myers, Amanda Young and Carmina Mora because she’s my main. Usual dbd and blood stuff.

The Artist (Carmina Mora)

-Carmina is a sweetheart to you, always has been

-She makes artwork for you with chunky paint so you can feel and imagine the patterns

-At first she was skeptical and a bit angry at the entity for bringing in a blind killer

-I mean for gods sake, you can’t see blood pools or scratch marks!

-But as she watches you, she realizes just how lethal you are

-you have incredible hearing and over senses that you don’t even need to see

-When you came out of a match one day you rubbed your head with a groan

-That new survivor Ripley slammed the hell out of you with a pallet

-Carmina walked over to you concerned as she observed your state

-You reassured her you were fine but she was furious

-How dare she! You didn’t deserve that!

-next match she made sure to mori the hell out of Ripley

-The crows needed to eat after all

The Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

-Danny at first couldn’t decide whether to make fun of you or not

-he also was angry at the entity for bringing in a blind killer but he didn’t care in the way Carmina did

-He always kept a close eye on every killer just to see if he had any competition

-he was a bit aggravated that he began watching you expecting nothing much

-oh was he surprised when he saw how you functioned

-all your senses were heightened and in tune with everything around you

-you were a great listener and that intrigued him

-one day he began listening to you and talking with you

-he actually liked you

-you listened to him ramble for hours and could recite anything he could say

-one day after a particularly rough trial you were snarling in anger

-Danny notices this and quickly came over to check on you

-Fucking David and his stupid insults all match

-he pissed you off so bad you lost sight of the gene and everything else

-but don’t worry, Danny will make sure to gut him just for you and describe every photo of his corpse in grave detail

The Executioner (Pyramid Head)

-Pyramid could sense your power so he never underestimated you

-He always watched you outside of trials

-you guys grew closer just relishing in each other comfort

-when you’d talk he’d listen and when you weren’t talking you two would just sit in silence

-When you came out of a match with shakier breathing than usual he could sense immediately what happened

-entitled survivors annoying you, he’ll take care of it, he is the executioner after all

The Pig (Amanda Young)

-Amanda’s intrigued by you

-she’s actually the first to address you

-you two hit it off immediately

-unlike Danny though your the one who talks more and she listens

-She’ll listen to you ramble while she tweaks her bear traps for each match letting out soft hums and nods to make sure you knew she was listening

-Amanda actually developed the habit of helping you out with little things

-she knew you were perfectly capable of doing everything but she wanted to just feel like she was helping

-When you came back from a trial with a lot more blood then usual she didn’t say anything

-she took your coat and outerwear and just simply cleaned it for you

-it’s the least she could do for you since you helped her with her loneliness

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long! Life’s been busy!

#dbd x reader #dead by deadlight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #amanda young x reader #amanda young #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #danny johnson x reader #dbd ghostface #danny johnson #carmina mora #the artist x reader #carmina mora x reader #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head

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f10werfae · 1 year

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How would lumberjack Henry handle someone making fun of his x shy wife stutter ? Would he go feral on someone ??

Lumberjack!Henry gets protective over shy!short!wife’s adorable stutter

A/n: a fun drabble for you all :)

Disclaimer: 18+ / Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist

“Go on sugar babe, have a go” Henry coaxed Y/n forward at the bar, knowing how hard she found it to order for herself, his hands softly groping her ass as he watched her lovingly, “E-excuse me, c-can I have a l-lemonade please” She said softly, watching Patricia scowl on the other side of the bar, a sly smirk coming onto her face. “Well done baby bun, s’proud of ya” Henry whispered directly into her ear, kissing her neck wetly, visible enough that even Patricia’s eyes had widened at their public display of affection; Y/n giggling and nuzzling herself further into her built husband’s chest.

“Fuckin’ hell girl, can’t you speak properly? Sound like you’re still 5 years old with that stupid stutter of yours. What d-did ya want a-again, a l-lemonade?” Patricia chuckled mimicking poor little Y/n’s stutter, seeing the younger shorter woman’s face fall, her glossy lips falling into a pout, noticing how her hands started to fiddle with each other out of anxiety. Patricia simply scoffed turning around, starting to prepare Y/n’s lemonade. “S-she was mean” Y/n whispered into Henry’s neck, whimpering against his chest, his heart cracking open at the sight of his sweet little wife so upset.

“Uh- Patricia, turn around” Henry gruffed rubbing his hand up and down his wife’s back, Y/n’s head was now turned away into his neck, her whole body engulfed and hugged by his huge arms. Yet Patricia could see that she was busy kissing and sucking on Henry’s neck as if it was a pacifier, one of Henry’s hands unashamedly still fondling shy, sweet Y/n’s behind through her dark blue dress. “Yes Henry darlin’?” She said through gritted teeth, her eyes trying to ignore the couple basically petting each other right in her bar, even though it was a busy Saturday night and they weren’t the worst couple there. Jealousy wasn’t even enough to describe how Patricia felt.

“The fuck did you say about my wife? Did you jus’ say her stutter was stupid? N’ that she sounds 5? Or was that my ears playin’ games with me” Henry smiled sickly, tilting his head slightly, his hand reaching up to knock onto the wooden bar roughly, the loud thuds out of nowhere now shocking Patricia a bit. “Uhm well, I jus’ think she’s a cute lil’ thing, ahaha, didn’t mean no harm” Patricia said nervously, clearly backpedaling her earlier insults and stabs at the upset woman.

“Thought so, cause I swear if I hear you say some dumb shit like that again, ya know what i’m capable of don’t ya? Wouldn’t wanna have somethin’ bad happen to ya or your family” Henry growled leaning forward, his hands both covering Y/n’s ears, who was now just looking up at her older husband, dazed by how handsome he looked that night. He wore a white vest, along with some baggy jeans and the belt she had bought him for his birthday; claiming it was his favourite gift of all time n’ he’s worn it near every day since.

Patricia stood shocked just looking at Henry’s threat, in all the years yeah she had heard stories, but she just thought he was a hot piece of meat who was lonely. “Now baby bun, why don’t ya repeat your order, don’t think they heard ya right” Henry’s smile turned soft as he uncovered his baby’s ears, softly hugging around her shoulders as he turned her to face Patricia. “Uh yes What c-can I get for you” Patricia said shaking herself out of her state of shock, forcing a smile.

Y/n on the other hand beamed at the woman, almost as if she forgot what had happened earlier, “Uh a l-lemonade p-please” Y/n replied feeling more confident, Henry had always told her how much he loved her stutter, it always just gave him more opportunities to listen to her talk; honestly he found it adorable how she sometimes struggled to get through a sentence to a point where she’d get annoyed at herself and have to ask him for help. “Don’t worry baby, know your brain gets foggy s’times” He would say to comfort her, his thumb raking her cheek softly to try and calm her frustrations.

Her stutters during sex? Now that was something else, how she would beg and beg, and the fact that she was getting fucked, made her stutters all the more obvious and often. Most of the time her words were incoherent and didn’t make sense, inaudible hot sounds were heard instead, letting Henry know just how dumb fucked she was. His baby bun.

“H-here you go” Patricia said sliding over the cold glass, watching Henry pick his wife out a pink straw, bending and putting it in for her; even lifting her glass while she sipped. His wife was spoiled rotten, he’d do anything for her and that was clear. “Thank you Patricia, it’s s’good” Y/n smiled almost innocently, although Patricia couldn’t help but imagine the depraved thing going on behind the closed doors of their secluded cabin home.

“Oh and Patricia, lose the stupid fuckin’ stutter, doesn’t work with you” Henry snarked throwing down a dollar bill, chuckling as he brought his wife to sit on his lap, her manicured hands holding onto her glass of lemonade as she just looked at her husband dreamily. If anyone looked close enough they could see that his hands were already up her damn skirt, and if anyone had asked, Henry would have bluntly said that he was feeling up his wife’s sweet pussy, knowing that no one would question it further.

“I-I love y-you” Y/n said all giggly, leaning her head onto her husband’s shoulder, her lips quick to press glossy kisses all over his face and neck, “I love you too sweet pea, love you n’ your stutter s’damn much” He growled nipping her bottom lip between his teeth, making sure Patricia was watching before he kissed his wife’s mouth deeply, her tongue falling out of her lips; allowing him to suck on it lewdly. Y/n was used to this, she knew Henry would never go too far in public, but just enough to keep them both satisfied.

“That is good lemonade baby, what’dya say?” Henry grinned,

“Thank you so much!” Y/n smiled looking towards Patricia, her saliva covered chin causing the older woman to blush and turn to another customer, she had never seen such a dirty play of attraction right in front of her face.

“Did I d-do somethin?” Y/n frowned watching Patricia walk to the other side of the bar, “Nothin’ for you to worry bout bun, finish that damn lemonade n’ let’s go home”

——//

Library blog of works : @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist: @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @bookfrog242 @alina02 @alexxavicry @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @keiva1000 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @queensgirl718 @sweetybuzz25 @helenaellie

🫶🫶🫶enjoy

Hope you all enjoy this drabble :)

Hope you all enjoy this drabble 🫶,,,

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fluff #lumberjack!henry cavill #henry cavill x shy!reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill x you

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heraldofcrow · 2 months

Text

Honest “Favorite Character” Asks 🌿

I can’t find character asks that suit my type of discussion, so I made some. These are meant to be somewhat personal, therapeutic, and pensive.

Send someone one of their favorite characters along with any of the following questions.

—

1. Do you project onto this character?

2. Did you always like this character?

3. What first drew you to this character?

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

#now go attack your mutuals and their favs <3 #i just couldn’t find the type of asks that help process feels on the blorbos so i just made em #character asks #fandom asks #character ask game #ask game #fictional characters #blorbos #mutuals #fandom

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halemerry · 9 months

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hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly.

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #answers #oh yeah this got waaaay long #oops

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cvrnelians · 9 months

Text

summer boy

yandere ken x reader: In which Ken kidnaps a journalist reader in an attempt to make her fall in love with him.

Evidently, it’s not going quite as smoothly as he’d hoped.

warnings: obsessive behavior, kidnapping, minors DNI.

Ken tried his best to understand, you could tell. It happened a handful of times each day—whenever you got upset or angry, or provided him with a tidbit of information he’d never heard before. You could practically see the gears turning in that empty little blonde head of his. Every time he caught you crying (which was a daily occurrence at this point), several things were guaranteed to happen.

1. He stared at you in complete and utter shock.

“Good morning, world renowned journalist Barbie,” he exclaimed, making his way towards the bed. In his hands was a tray of fake breakfast food and an empty coffee mug.

It was unnerving. Ever since you arrived here, strange things had been happening. You weren’t even the slightest bit hungry, and as each day passed, your skin started feeling weird. You weren’t even sure how to describe it. It was almost like...

Plastic.

His eyes widened when he caught sight of you. You hadn’t seen your reflection in days, but you were fairly certain you looked like a mess—hair disheveled, eyes red and puffy from crying. You turned away from him and laid down on your stomach, pulling a pillow over your head.

“Good morning, world renowned journalist Barbie!” he repeated, as if the only reason you didn’t respond was because you didn’t hear him the first time. But you had. You most definitely heard him the first time.

“Leave me alone.” Your voice was muffled as you pressed your face up against the sheets. “And don’t call me that. I’m not a Barbie, and I’m not a world renowned journalist. I’m nothing.”

He was silent for a few seconds, like he was trying very hard to come up with the right thing to say; probably whatever was least likely to set you off.

“You’re not nothing,” he said. “You shouldn’t say that.” He set the tray down on the nightstand and backed up a few steps.

To think this all started with a simple assignment from your boss.

“Write me a fluff piece on the new Barbie theme park in Venice Beach.”

You had gone to Mattel headquarters to ask some executives more about the park, and quickly ran into Ken wandering around in the lobby. He beamed when he saw you, nearly sprinting over to greet you. It was borderline alarming.

“Hi, businesswoman Barbie! I mean, businesswoman human woman.”

Given his comfortability walking around the building and his general attire, you simply assumed he worked for Mattel. He said as much when you asked him about it. As you talked, he started saying all sorts of weird stuff. You hadn’t anticipated spending an entire day interviewing a Mattel employee method acting as a real life Ken doll. You expected this assignment to be fairly dull, so you were more than happy to play along—if anything, to entertain yourself in the process. Although he wasn’t the brightest man in the world, “Ken” did seem very knowledgeable about the Barbie franchise. As you strolled through the park together, he offered a constant stream of valuable input.

“Wow, this looks just like the roller coaster in Barbieland!”

“The ice cream here is really weird. Isn’t the ice cream here really weird? It’s so cold.”

“Why can’t people in the real world float down the stairs like we do?”

“Why do we have to wait in line? Why is there a line? Why are there so many people out here?”

Sadly, he also nearly drowned in the waterpark at some point. You had to talk him down from a full blown panic attack in the midst of this.

“I didn’t know I would…fall in...to the water. You can…w-walk on the pools…in…Barbieland.”

“It’s okay, Ken. It’s okay.” You placed a towel over his shoulders as he coughed and sputtered dramatically.

As the day wound down, you took a walk along the beach and picked a nice spot to watch the sunset.

“I want you to come with me.”

“Where?” you asked.

“To Barbieland.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “Ken, you can stop with the act. I got all the information I needed for the article. We’re just hanging out now.”

“No, I mean it! It’s not an act. I want you to come with me.”

You sighed and laid back in the sand. He laid down next to you.

“Alright. Let’s say this place is real. Why do you want me to come with you?”

Ken smiled warmly. “Because I love you.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Um. I’m sorry, what?”

“I mean...I didn’t mean that. I meant, um. It’s just...you respect me.”

You laughed and shook your head. You sat up on your elbows, staring up at the sky. “Of course I do.”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, placing his hand on his chest.

“From what you’ve told me, Barbieland sounds pretty idyllic. I would love to live there. But I’m not a Barbie. I’m human. I don’t think I belong there.”

“Sure, you do! You absolutely belong. I mean, we already have journalist Barbie but you can be businesswoman human woman journalist Barbie.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that." You pointed towards the sky. “Hey, do you have stars in Barbieland?”

Ken sat up on his elbows also. It was like he was mirroring you. “Yeah. They don’t really look like the stars here, though. They’re more twinkly. And the constellations are a lot easier to find. I like them better—

“—in Barbieland,” you both said in unison.

The next few minutes were spent with you staring at the sky and Ken staring at you. It was kind of uncomfortable, but you had to admit you liked him. He was cute, if not a little dim. You were mainly hoping this whole Ken doll thing was an ongoing bit, that he was just really committed to his role at the theme park and he would drop it eventually. Otherwise, you were more than a little concerned.

“How about next time?” he asked. “The next time I see you, will you come with me?”

“Oh, so there’s gonna be a next time now?”

“If you’d like,” he said timidly.

“Sure. Why not? On our next date, I’ll go with you to Barbieland.”

“Yes! Will you excuse me for a second?”

“Um, okay.”

He staggered a few feet away and crouched down behind a very tall, unoccupied lifeguard’s chair. Watching him try to disappear behind the large gaps between the steps was like watching someone struggle to find a hiding spot during a very tense game of hide-n-seek. A few seconds later, you heard a startlingly loud “SUBLIME!” echoing throughout the atmosphere.

The next time you saw him about a week later, Ken was different. He wasn’t the same guy you met at Mattel headquarters. He wasn’t the same guy you spent the day with at Venice Beach. His clothes were a complete 180 from the pink pastels and light wash denim he had worn before. He was now wearing a ridiculous fur coat and heavy black sweatpants in the middle of the summer. He mentioned having gone back and forth between Barbieland and the real world a handful of times now, and started saying bizarre, offensive things about men and the patriarchy and…horses?

Most importantly, though, he had taken you on the strangest hot pink odyssey of a date you’d ever been on in your life. Safe to say, you tried to end the date—if that was even what it was—early.

Ken didn’t like that.

Not one bit.

“Ken, this is weird. Can you take me home?”

“But look around you! Barbieland is so much better now!”

“No, I don’t…I don’t even know where we are, and I really want to go home now. This was a mistake.”

“I know you don’t know what it was like before, but I promise you, I’ve improved it. You said you wouldn’t belong in Barbieland, remember? But now since it’s so different, maybe you’ll feel like you do.”

“I don’t understand how we even got here, but I don’t like this. And I want to leave. Now.”

“Kendom. It’s called the Kendom, and it’s amazing. And you said you would come with me this time. You said so! You have to follow through on what you promised. You owe me.”

“Excuse me? I don’t owe you anything. I did come with you. Now I want to go.”

Ken didn’t like that very much, either.

So, here you were: trapped within the confines of Ken’s…what did he call it? His mojocasadojo…thing?

His house. You were trapped in Ken’s gigantic plastic house.

“So, I’ve been thinking. It’s been a few days, I’m sure you’ve adjusted by now. I was thinking we could go for a drive today, get some ice cream. I can even show you what I do at beach!” he said proudly.

“I don’t care what you do at beach!” you snapped, whipping around to face him. The intensity in your gaze clearly startled him. He somehow never expected for you to be as irate as you were. “That’s not even a job. And your car—”

“Truck car,” he said pointedly.

“Your truck car doesn’t have an engine. How does it even run?” you sobbed, smacking your forehead into the mattress again. “This place doesn’t make any sense!”

You felt ridiculous, like a teenager refusing to get up for school. It was a bizarre dichotomy. In many ways your situation was, in fact, dire. You were stuck in a nightmare in which some strange, unhinged man kidnapped you and dragged you to an alternate universe. On paper, this all sounded very frightening. And it was.

But it was also borderline comical, given Ken was so…

Himself.

2. You spotted a flicker of empathy as you explained to him why you were crying.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” he whined. “You should be happy. I want you to be happy.”

You rolled over and sat up with your back up against the headboard. “You trapped me here! How on earth are you so perplexed by this?”

Ken narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to one side.

You sighed. “Confused,” you said flatly. “It means confused.”

“Perplexed,” he repeated, like he was trying the word on for size. He enunciated each letter and syllable. “Perplexed.”

“Ugh. Can you just—”

He smiled at you reverently. “You’re so smart, teaching me all these real world words. It’s just one of the many things I love about you. I love you so much.”

“Oh my god, we’ve been over this. You don’t love me. You don’t even know me.”

Ken gasped dramatically.

3. He scrambled to put on a front of indignance, launching into a speech about how lucky you were to be there and how ungrateful you were being.

“Of course I love you! How could you say that? And you love me, too. Actually, you should be thanking me! You’ve got everything you could ever want here. I mean, we’ve got Scarface and Pulp Fiction special collector’s edition VHS tapes—”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, placing your head in your hands. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“—and a big, shiny truck car, and a boxing gym, and six mini fridges. We’ve even got our very own mojodojocasahouse. And you’ve got me, of course.”

“Wait a second. Our house?” you asked.

“Yeah. Our mojodojocasahouse.”

“What? What do you think this is? You kidnapped me, Ken. I don’t even want to be here. You know that.”

“Yes, you do!” he yelled, making you jump. “This is what you do when you’re boyfriend girlfriend. Every night is our night and you both live together in a—”

“Dear god, please don’t say it again.”

4. Every time, without fail, he caved.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to shift into poorly disguised distress. It bothered and perplexed him, how unhappy you were.

He just wanted to make things right.

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said pathetically, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He stared up at the sparkly pink ceiling and sighed. “I just want to make you happy. I’m trying my best.”

The weird part about all of this was that you actually believed him. And for a split second, you almost pitied him. Almost. There was something likable about Ken, even in spite of how maladjusted he had become. But then you came to your senses and acknowledged the reality of the situation. No matter how hard he tried to convince you otherwise, he had gravely wronged you, not the other way around. He was holding you here against your will and treating you like you were the bad guy because you weren’t entertaining his delusion. He was acting like this was all your fault.

And it certainly was not.

You wondered if a softer approach would prove more favorable. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if you had to be a little manipulative in order to get out of this, you were willing to play nice.

For now.

You sighed. “Ken, look. I don’t mean to be…mean.”

“You are being mean!” he pouted.

“And I’m very sorry for that. Here, let me—” You reached out and started playing with his hair. He smiled at you, shutting his eyes and leaning into it. After a few seconds, he splayed out on top of you, his chin pressing into your stomach.

“Okay,” you sighed. “If you really loved me—”

“Wow, I really like that. Please keep doing that.”

“If you really loved me, you would let me leave.”

He laughed. “I am letting you leave, silly. I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

“I mean here. If you really loved me, you would let me leave Kenland.”

“Kendom. It’s the Kendom.”

“Okay, yeah. That. If you really loved me, you would let me go.”

His jaw ticked. “You don’t just leave people you care about,” he said resolutely. “You don’t ignore them.”

“Going by that logic, if you really cared, you wouldn’t ignore my requests.”

“I told you no, and what I say goes.”

“But you’re not even listening to what I have to say!”

“I don’t have to. I know what’s best for us, and I get to make the decisions.”

“Why?

“Because I’m the man. And that’s just how it is.”

You were both quiet for a few seconds.

“That’s fucking absurd, Ken.”

“Fucking absurd?” he parrotted. “I’ve never heard that before. I’m learning so many real world words today! What does that mean? Fucking absurd.”

“Ughhhhhhh,” you groaned, closing your eyes and leaning back against the headboard.

A few seconds later, you felt a slight pressure near your nose and ears. Your hands jutted out in surprise. You opened your eyes to Ken sitting a little too close to your face, except now the entire room was cast in a hazy pink filter.

“It’s okay,” he said, grabbing your wrists. “I got you sunglasses. Y’know, for later on when we go to—”

“Beach,” you both said in unison.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “So let’s have breakfast and get ready. Okay?”

It bothers and perplexes him, how unhappy you are.

Evidently, just not enough to let you go.

#ken x reader #dark!ken x reader #yandere ken x reader #dark!ken #yandere ken

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