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sophiamcdougall · 1 year ago

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I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να ��ούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

#story time

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evilminji · 10 months ago

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"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dash baxter #dash on tv #Dash Phan AU

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celestiamour · 4 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ the "dying" wolverine ]❜

ft. logan howlett x gn! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ taking care of logan when he’s sick┊0.8k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, established relationship

➤ author's note: i’m feeling like shit so i’m making him suffer with me

what part of regenerative healing don’t you understand? it’s impossible for him to get sick in any capacity as his immune system is stronger than the adamantium in his body, so feel free to read any of the other logan fics written by all the amazing writers on this platform!!

but let’s say that he somehow contracted a special bug that managed to get past all that and managed to make him fall ill, requiring you to take care of him while wade goes on a mission to figure out what’s wrong with him…

this headstrong two-hundred-year mutant who can take stab wounds without flinching and is an invincible tank in battles will be the whinest son of the bitch. he always lets his guard down around you, but he’s the most vulnerable and immature that he’ll ever allow himself to be around anyone since he can’t remember the last time (or if he has ever in his life) felt so shitty. shivering despite being feverish and covered up in blankets which just made him sweaty and uncomfortable, an itchy nose that wouldn’t sneeze when he needed it to, coughing his lungs out every two minutes— it’s so alien to him.

when you finally show up to look after him, he’ll have uncharacteristically big puppy eyes as you gently place your hand on his forehead to gauge how bad it is. “how are you feeling, lo?”

“i feel like i’m going to fucking die.” there are several discarded tissues and water bottles overfilling the nearby trashcan, but it was clear that he had no idea how he was supposed to make himself feel better and suffering.

“i can tell,” you chuckle at how dramatic he sounds and it makes him frown, but he’s just so thankful that you’re here to take care of him (he doesn’t exactly trust al to do it, that woman is a bit too mysterious and cryptic for him, and the medicine she offered smelled funny even to his dulled senses). “let me go make you some soup.”

he doesn’t want you to leave at first because your cold skin feels so good against him, but he’ll lightly doze off for a bit now that he’s more comfortable and feels safer. don’t expect him to stay asleep for long though, he’ll get up from his little while you’re in the middle of cooking chicken vegetable soup to wrap his arms around you and rest his head on top of yours until you finish.

“why are there barely any vegetables in the fridge? i could only find half a carrot and wilted celery.”

“i don’t think anyone here eats that stuff.”

“logan, you need to eat your greens— all you guys do, how are all three of you in such good shape then?!”

“eh.”

he can’t make anything more complicated than butter noodles, wade sets nearly everything on fire, he feels slightly guilty eating the food made by an elderly blind lady when he’s already freeloading at the moment, and constantly ordering take-out becomes expensive. you’ve given some food in tupperware for him to eat up, but it isn’t quite the same. as if being sick didn’t make him miserable enough, he’s so fucking pissed that he couldn’t properly taste your freshly-cooked food and will make it known.

you scoff that it’s just soup and pour it out in a bowl for him to eat, but you’ll quickly find yourself spoon-feeding him. yes, his hands still work with perfectly fine motor functions. no, you’re not passing up the opportunity to baby him while he rolls his eyes (he’ll grunt at most and doesn’t say a word of protest, claiming that he’s merely allowing it since he’s too tired to fight with you over it and very glad no one could see it happening).

“here comes the airplane~”

“i’m a grown-ass man, don’t be ridiculous.”

“a grown-ass man without an ounce of whimsy in his life, open your fucking mouth and eat.”

this is one of the lower points in his life where he doesn’t quite understand why this is happening to him yet, so you obviously have give him as much affection as possible! keeping a cold glass of water nearby and a wet rag to dab on his face, he rests his head upon your thighs and you swear that you can hear him purring like a kitten. there’s not better pillow than his lover, soft, warm, and full of love as you hum a song to lull him to sleep.

“let’s get married one day…” he not sure how that slipped past his lips, it might be the fever talking for him, or the fact that he’s completely relaxed without any tension in his muscles and feeling himself falling in love all over again when you smile so sweetly at him

“okay, but you need to sleep and get better first.” you place a gentle kiss on his forehead until his eyes slowly drift shut, “i love you, logan.”

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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natailiatulls07 · 4 months ago

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your charles x sister! reader fics are so cute! i love them so so so so so so much!! i was wondering if you could write one where charles and his teen! sister get in an argument (mostly his fault) and she’s ignoring him and he has to leave for a race before he can apologise and she still supports him but won’t talk to him and him making it up to her eventually pretty please! i love your work so much !!!

Charles Leclerc x Sister!reader

Summary - The request above :3

Warnings - Arguing and swearing

A/n - Thank you lovie! I feel like I haven't done Leclerc Sister fic in a long while so it's great to be back <3

Masterlist

Usually the week before a triple header, Charles likes to spend his free time around family. He feels like it gives him that chance to relax and get back into the right mindset. During this time the family would play board games, catch up on favourite tv shows and catch up on life.

Charles loves this time. With his formula one schedule and Arthur's schedule, it’s not often that the two brothers can hang out with their older brother and younger sister. They all come together to spend this time as they did before he and Arthur started karting.

However this week something was off. Everyone in the family could see how indifferent Charles was acting. It wasn’t like no one knew why, it was pretty clear why he was acting like this.

From the start of the season, Ferrari wasn’t having a good time. At least once every race, something went wrong. And Charles was getting the shorter end of the stick, he felt like he was getting totally screwed off in every possible way.

He really tried to not let it affect him but this was his career, without this he’d be nothing. So naturally this was going to crush his self-esteem, his confidence and his calmed headspace.

'Charles?' Y/n’s voice broke through the quietness of his stream, everyone watching could see how tense Charles was. The chat, which was going unnoticed by the pair, was speeding down the screen with fans welcoming the younger one of the two.

username my fav leclerc!! username Y/n I love you username hi Y/nnn username the best leclerc is here yayyy

He stayed silent, barely acknowledging Y/n. 'Charles? Maman made dinner, she told me to come get you' Everyone could see how Charles just rolled his eyes and how he grumbled when she wouldn’t leave.

There was a beat of silence, the only noise filling the room was the occasional sound coming from his game. 'Charles?' Y/n asked again, confused as to why he wasn't replying.

And then, finally he spoke up. 'God Y/n, can you not see?! I’m busy, fuck off!' It wasn’t often that Y/n saw Charles in this light; heck this was the first time his fans were seeing him in this light. It was as if he had forgotten about all of them having front row seats to his interaction with Y/n.

They could all see the annoyance on Y/n’s face, she wasn’t going to back down just because of one fuck off thrown her way. 'What’s up with you?' She snapped back, her mother raised her not to take shit from anyone - Espercially not her brothers. 'Whatever it is, don’t take it out on me cause I did fuck all to piss you off'

Even after her argument, Charles still couldn’t back down. Funnily enough they have the same mother, so this meant they were taught the same exact thing. He wasn’t going to take shit from her either. 'Do you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, that you are the problem? I come home in the middle of an exhausting season, only for you to come and annoy me just like a fucking child.' He pauses the game and turns in his seat, completely forgetting again that he’s on stream. 'Grow the fuck up.'

The chat is practically flying by now, all the comments shouting at Charles for being so rude.

username what the fuck Charles! username better than any reality tv omfg username don't be rude to my fav leclerc like thattt username this isn't Charles, what is going on???

Y/n bursts into a sarcastic laughter, only infuriating her older brother more. 'Haha you’re so fucking funny! Even you, after being the one who helped me come out of your shadow, can make me feel so shit..'

The way she spat out her words scared Charles, he knew he fucked up. Everyone watching the stream could see how his face paled and how, with a deep frown and tears clouding her eyes, Y/n walked out of the room angerily before vigorously slamming the door.

Chat could see a grimace on his face as Charles' face fell in his hands. A deep sigh could be heard through the mic and then the stream turned black. It ended - Understandable.

The days following was icy cold in the Leclerc family, everyone but Y/n had been walking on eggshells. Charles felt like shit, he knew about the shadow behind himself and how it really effected the people around him (Espercially his siblings).

He knew he had to leave for the triple header soon but the thing is he has never left on a bad foot with any of his family and espercially for a long time. His anxiety was riding high.

The evening before his flight to spain, he was sat on the sofa at his childhood home with his mother and Alexandra. 'Fuck..I messed up' Infront of him, Leo was rolling around on the carpet.

Pascale just sighed, she was silently agreeing with her son because she had seen first hand the effects of fame had on Lorenzo, Arthur and Y/n. However on the other hand, she knew that it was harder for him - She just wished he handled the argument better.

'Where is she now?' Alexandras soft voice spoke up, her hand relaxing on top of her partners.

Looking over to the clock, the older women answered. 'Her friends place, I think her friendship group are having a little party you know..' That'd explain the almost eerie silence through the house. 'She'll come around, this won't last long.' A chuckle left the older womens lips. 'Never does..'

If only she knew, Pascale would be eating her words.

The next couple of weeks were long and hard for Charles. It seemed like everything had been going incredibly wrong for the guy. Almost every race he was finishing outside of points, the days were long and every time he'd message his little sister, he wouldn't get a reply.

You see Y/n was active on social media and Charles could see this, he could see how she was continuing to attend to her usual activities. Going to her University lectures, doing her little side influencer job and hanging out with friends.

He had heard from both his older brother and his mother how they could tell how the argument effected the youngest Leclerc. Much like Charles, this space between them was hard. Yet, she'd watch the races for him and support him. That being some sort of reassurance for Charles.

Luckily for him, he had some time between the end of the triple header at Silverstone and the next race in Hungary so the evening after the race he was on a flight back to Nice.

It didn't take long for Charles and Alexandra to arrive back to Monaco, popping to his childhood home once again. Walking in they could tell that immediately that Pascale wasn't home but then again someone was home, which only meant one person was here.

Placing her bag down on the kitchen counter, Alexandra made her way over to the stairs. 'Y/n are you home?' There was several patters of footsteps above the couple as she made her way to the living room where Charles was sat anxiously waiting. His knee was continuously bouncing up and down before Alexandra's soft hand came rest just over his kneecap. 'You'll be fine..' She whispered gently.

It didn't take long for his baby sister to reveal herself, dressed in her work out gear. Y/n tried her best to hide her anxiety and hesitation, much like her brother she hated the past weeks. 'Salut..' (Hi) She breathed out.

Charles' eye lit up when he saw her, a small smile on his face. 'Hé, où est maman?' (Hey, where's mum?) It was safe to say that small talk wasn't going to be the best thing right now but they both knew it'd help.

He watched her as she moved to sit on the opposite sofa in her usual seat. 'Elle déjeune avec une amie…Marie' (She is having lunch with a friend…Marie) Both the Ferrari driver and his girlfirnd nodded slowly and understandingly.

There was a few seconds of a surprisingly comfortable silence, no one knowing what to say until Charles felt Alexandra sharply nudge him. Looking at her in shock, she quietly urged him to apologize. 'Look I'm sorry princesse..'

Almost giving herself whip lash, Y/n looked up from she was nervously checking her nails. And then there was a moment of quiet again, she didn't know what to say. Part of wanted to be cheeky and the other wanted to be sentimental. Suddenly her lips screwed into a small smirk, and Charles would be lying if it didn't scare him.

'You know it was pretty shitty what you did.' She let out a laugh and the pair followed in suit, Charles nodding knowingly. 'But you're my big brother, you're pretty shitty in general..' He was glad she was joking about, and he allowed her joke about him.

A smile had taken its shape on his face. 'Yeah I know, forgive me?' He asked, needing to satify that last bit of anxiety in him. To which he got a quick nod in return and immediately he was up, pulling her in a long over due hug.

At first it was sweet but immediately ruined when Charles heard Y/n mumble. 'Make me a dedicated instagram post and then I'll forgive you properly..' He just sighed knowingly as a laugh escaped Alexandras lips. Of course he was being blackmailed.

'Fine.' A grumble left his lips. 'You're lucky..'

1.6k

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x sister #charles leclerc x sister!reader #scuderia ferrari #forza ferrari #ferrari #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula one x y/n #alexandra saint mleux

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ebsmind · 4 months ago

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𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 ❀ armando aretas x fem!reader

summary: no one ever said love was easy. good thing you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon even through rough patches.

word count: 2.9k

warning(s): angst!, fighting (verbally not physically), smut (mdni), oral (fem receiving), fab!reader, readers height being mentioned (she’s 5’2), reader has armando wrapped around her damn finger, ummmm probably abandonment but like for only two days 😭, soft!armando, mention of rafe x reader, not 100% proofread

a/n: okay woooo this is the first imagine i’ve written in a minute (if you remember my hockey days ily) i hope this is good and can meet to yalls standards! i had fun writing this and ik it took me like over a week but i really didn’t know what i wanted to do with the plot lol. anyways please send me any feedback and if there’s any spelling mistakes or anything feel free to lmk! this was also my first time ever writing in depth smut so i hope it’s somewhat good 💃🏻 also reblogs are highly encouraged! they help me out sm!

oh! i almost forgot too, i didn’t mention it in here bc it’s not that important to me but i thought id share anyways! i see the reader knowing the AMMO team but she has a different job (id say in hospitality or something with medical knowledge) it doesn’t really matter tho since it’s what i envisioned but i just wanted yall to see where my head is at! okay im going now bye! and enjoy 💋

“we were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work. remember how i said i’d die for you?”

The weather in Miami the past week has been bipolar. For it being the middle of September, it was chilly. Something felt off, almost like Mother Nature was reaching out. The rain had just finished pouring, and Armando wasn’t due to be home until another hour. So, when the younger girl heard the lock to the front door turn, she was surprised. He wasn’t one to leave early if anything, he loved working overtime. He always gave the excuse of 'wanting to be the main provider'. When he walks in, he sets his jacket on the coat hanger and doesn’t say a word. Weird.

“Hey you’re home early, what happened?” She stays calm. Something seems off with the 5’10 man and she doesn’t want to upset him even more.

He sets the keys on the dining table rather than the coffee table in the middle of the living room. He scurries off to their shared bedroom. She sighs and takes it as a hint to get off the couch and follow after him. Her mind runs wild on what could possibly be bothering him. Did Marcus find some way to piss him off? Did a raid go wrong? Did she do something wrong? There were so many possibilities of what could’ve gone wrong.

She walks into the bedroom cautiously and makes a B-line to the restroom. Armando had a routine when he came home from work. Put the keys in the bowl on the coffee table, find his girl, give her a kiss and hug, talk about both of their days and finally, hop in the shower. A sense of stability in his life made him feel somewhat relaxed and gave him a reason to never leave. He almost felt normal. Normal was a funny word considering he used to be in the cartel.

She knew the domesticated part of their relationship scared him and it did the same to her. Most nights she’d stay up thinking about if he was going to get up and leave one day. It wasn’t good for her and she knew it too.

She leans against the door frame and watches him get into the shower. He doesn’t seem to notice, he’s in his head and it’s bothering him. Armando didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve but she knew him well enough to know when he was in his head. Being in a romantic relationship with someone with an avoidant attachment style wasn’t easy but she needed to be patient. Some days were harder than others though, and she felt it in her bones that today was going to be a bad day.

She mentally prepares herself by taking a deep breath. She starts by saying, “Armando you’ve got to talk to me.” She uses his full name, no pet names, wanting him to know she’s being serious.

“We will when I get out.” He raises his voice, not enough for it to be considered yelling but just enough to get the point across that he isn’t in the mood.

She doesn’t respond, he needs time to gather his thoughts. She exits the bathroom and makes her way back to the living room. She picks up a book before finally making contact with the soft fabric of the couch. She needs something to distract herself with. About 15 minutes later, Armando walks into the room. She lets him soak in the silence, maybe he’ll get the memo to finally speak up without her having to tell him. To the contrary, he doesn’t.

Taking a deep breath she starts with, “I’m not in the mood to play a guessing game,” She pauses to look him in the eyes, “So please just talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.”

He keeps his eyes locked on her. He knows she’s irritated and wants to get this over with.

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

She scoffs, “You do realize we have to talk about it sooner or later, right? I don’t feel like doing this Armando, so please just tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“What if we don’t have to do this?”

Bamboozled, she questions him, “the fuck you mean by ‘what if we don’t have to do this’ ?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore Y/N.”

His confession makes the poor girl's heart fall to her stomach. She can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Their relationship was a tricky one, just like any other. She’s seen her parents go through rough patches before for fucks sake, there’s no way he’s leaving without an explanation. Patience is running real slow between the two and the tension in the room feels foggy.

“Remember when I told you I loved you for the first time? Remember when I told you I’d take a fucking bullet for you? Hmm?”

Armando doesn’t respond. Typical. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the young couple to fight, shit happens. But Armando’s cold demeanor is what was out of place.

She was his safe place and he knew it. She made it very clear when they started seeing each other that he couldn’t run away. Not from his feelings and most certainly not her. So for him to put up those walls that they desperately worked hard to keep down, was upsetting. To say the least.

With the tensions high between the pair, the girl took a much-awaited deep breath and spoke.

“My love for you is unconditional. I hope you remember that.”

Armando looks away and walks out the front door.

“they all warned us about times like this, they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith. blind faith.”

The mirrors in the bathroom are fogged up due to the boiling-hot water coming out of the shower head. It had been two days since Armando stormed out of the apartment and Y/N was fed up, to say the least.

Armando’s behavior has never gotten that bad. With the way Isabel raised him, it was expected to be rough but he had been doing good, for her. Everything he did, he reminded himself that it was for the both of them. He loved her just as much as she loved him. She fell first but he fell harder.

Armando never thought he would fall in love, but he did. In the middle of a stakeout, he spotted the girl walking out of a cafè. He remembers the dress she wore, it was white, and long, with yellow flowers. It screamed innocence and he loved it.

A week later he found himself following her around. He wasn’t due to go back to Mexico City for another week and he already finished the job so why not kill some time?

Two days before his departure from Miami he found himself in her apartment with his head between her thighs. He never wanted to leave but he couldn’t let anyone find out about you two. The good thing is, Armando was an excellent liar and no one ever discovered his dirty little secret.

Once she gets out of the shower, she waits no time to yell out her lover's name.

“Armando?” She pauses and there’s no answer.

Her heart breaks just a little more. With the ache in her chest, she decides to call the one person who might know where Armando is, Mike.

Mike was someone Y/N found comfort in, especially when it came to Armando. She knew their relationship was tricky, but he cared about his son and so did she.

Mike picks up at the 5th ring. He knew she only called when it was an emergency.

“Talk to me. What happened?” Mike doesn’t need to ask how she’s doing, if anything he’ll do it after but he needed to know what in the hell his son did now.

Mike’s voice brought the girl to tears. She felt at ease knowing that Mike was always willing to help her in a time of need.

She sniffles before speaking, “Oh Mike, it’s been two days since I’ve last seen him. He came home Tuesday night without saying a word and left right after showering. I tried to get him to talk but he wouldn’t budge. I’m really worried he hasn’t done this in so long, I don’t know what happened.” She says it all in one breath, and by the time she is done speaking, she’s panting. Mike pauses before replying to the anxious girl.

“I’ll call Dorn and Kelly to see if he’s been staying with them but he’s been going to work. I knew something was up when he refused to talk to anyone.”

“Thank you, Mike, I appreciate you so much.”

“Of course, but Imma need you to remember that when shit hits the fan never give up. You hear me? Never give up, especially with Armando.”

Mike hangs up after speaking and leaves Y/N to wallow in her thoughts. She understood Mike was a busy man and had a separate life so she didn’t take it to heart but it hurt knowing that she was all alone again.

“but we can patch it up good, make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you.”

Mike called Y/N back two hours later saying that Armando was on his way home. The girl couldn’t tell if she was happy that he was okay or enraged that he didn’t have the balls to come home without someone having to tell him too. Armando would just have to come home to see the answer to that.

The young woman was frightened, not knowing if this was going to end in a raging verbal war or if everything was going to return to normal. She didn’t want to lose Armando, like she said earlier, she loved him unconditionally.

To kill time, she decided it was best to bake her favorite sweets, chocolate chip cookies. She makes her way to the kitchen to prep the batter. When she goes to preheat the oven, she hears the front door unlock. Armando’s home.

Even after almost two years of being together, he still made her heart race and the butterflies in her stomach never seem to have left.

He walks in and spots her in the kitchen, her back is facing him. He can tell she’s waiting for him to make the first move.

“I’m home.” He closes the front door and locks it, his eyes never leaving her back.

She looks to the right and over her shoulder, “It took you long enough. Where were you?”

“I stayed with Dorn and Kelly. I’m fine Y/N.”

She takes a deep breath and mentally reminds herself that she can’t blow up on him, even though he deserves it. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. There’s nothing else for her to say, he messed up badly and he needed to be the one to fix this.

“Baby look, lo siento, I do. I don’t know what happened. One second I was okay and then Rita said something and I just got angry. I needed some time to think. I needed space.” He makes his way to the kitchen island, he’s now 5 feet away from Y/N. He yearns for her touch. The last couple of days were hard and all he wanted was a hug from his girl, but he knew he wasn’t getting that.

The oven beeps, cutting off Y/N’s train of thought. She grabs the metal tray filled with cookies and gently puts them into the oven. She turns and is faced with Armando. She takes notice of what he’s wearing. It’s a different outfit, she knew for a fact that he came when she was gone for work. He had left with nothing but his keys on Tuesday and Dorn’s clothes wouldn’t have fit Armando. That man was 6’2 for Christ's sake.

“I didn’t expect you to become a coward and just leave without saying a word but here we are.” Armando could feel the heat radiating off of the 5’2 woman. She may be small but she was frightening when she was angry.

Armando grips the counter, hard, he takes a deep breath before answering the girl.

“I know I fucked up but I just needed space.” She scoffs at his statement.

“Needed space from what exactly?” She manages to huff out. She’s fed up and Armando knows it. One wrong move and he’s a dead man.

“Rafe wouldn’t shut up, okay! He kept talking about you like you were just some piece of meat.! I couldn’t take it! I get that you guys dated but fuck!” Armando's grip on the counter is lethal and his knuckles are practically white.

“Armando Aretas are you jealous?”

“No.”

She smiles and gets a glare in return from her lover. Oh, she was going to have a field day with this.

Before Armando came into the picture Y/N had dated Rafe for about 4 months. It wasn’t anything serious, but if you were to ask her what she thought of Rafe, she’d tell you he was a piece of shit.

“Well I think you’re jealous,” she wasn’t letting it go, “and I think it’s hot but you need to remember that Rafe can be a douchebag.” She makes her way over to Armando and pulls him in for a hug.

“Just next time please don’t leave without saying a word and you have to communicate with me.” She looks up at him with her doe eyes while speaking.

“I promise it won’t happen again. I love you, baby.”

“Religion’s in your lips even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship, we might just get away with it, the altar is my hips even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship this love.”

Without a second to waste Armando sweeps the girl into a passionate kiss. He’s hungry and seeing Kelly and Dorn together really made him miss his girl.

He brings his hands down her body and rests them on her hips. He deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into her mouth. As much as she wants to fight for it, she knows it’s his turn to take care of her, so she gives in. She runs her hand up to the back of his neck, rests it there, and occasionally plays with the hairs at the base of Armando’s neck. She was the first to pull away, she needed to catch a quick breath before being able to continue. Armando uses this moment to speak.

"Let me take care of you cariño."

Not even a second later, the younger woman lets him devour her like she's his last meal. He maneuvers them to the dining room, grabs her hips, and lifts her onto the table in one swift movement. She lets out a soft gasp when he makes contact with her neck. His teeth sink into the soft skin on the left side of her neck. It hurt, but not enough to cry about it. He soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. She reacts by putting her hand on the back of his neck, never wanting him to stop. He has her panting, softly. The sounds go straight down into his pants. He chooses to ignore it, he's focusing on her.

He detaches himself from her neck to pull off the oversized tee she's wearing. He throws it to the floor. When he looks at her chest he notices the lacy fabric that hugs her breasts.

He lowers himself to where his lips rest right above her ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, baby."

Armando kneels in front of her and then proceeds to get a hold of her right leg. Before he continues, he looks up at her. God, he looked so fucking hot. His pupils were enflamed and filled with lust.

He starts to kiss his way up her leg, starting at her ankle, and right when he gets to her inner thing, she lets out a soft gasp. She's got him right where she wants him to be. Armando's right-hand grips the waistband of her black athletic shorts, signaling he wants them off. She lifts her hips and lets him do the rest. Armando takes off both her shorts and panties in one go. He was a tease, but not tonight.

He puts his hands on her hips and guides them to the edge of the table. He has full access and without a second left to spare his mouth makes contact with her folds. She shrieks, then it gets repressed into a moan when he finds her clit. He's lapping at her folds but it's not enough, she needs more.

"More, baby, I need more."

He wastes no time and inserts his ring and middle finger into her seeping wet cunt. Her moans are getting louder, and he fucking loves it. He continues by licking her clit, and her orgasm starts to finally peak.

"Oh fuck, yes, right there." She manages to speak through her moans.

Her right-hand finds its way to his dark brown hair, and she takes a fistful of it, not caring if it hurts him or not. He deserved it, after all, he left her alone for two days. She's close to her orgasm and he can feel it. His mouth makes its way to her clit and about 25 seconds later, she's coming undone.

Her sight fades to black and all she can see are stars. Once the image of them fades away, she looks down at Armando, he's licking her clean. She jerks away, from still being sensitive, but his hands immediately find their way to her hips to keep her in place. Not a drop of cum is going to waste. When he’s done he stands and removes his shirt. Y/N's hands go straight to his jeans, the outline of his cock doesn’t go unnoticed, but before she can get the zipper down the oven beeps. Both of their heads turn in the direction of the kitchen and the girls eyes widen in realization.

“What the fu-,”

"Oh my god, the cookies!"

taglist : @Mayalife38535

(if there is a strike through that means i couldn’t tag ur blog!)

to becomes apart of my taglist, there is a link on my navigation page!

#armando aretas imagine #armando aretas x reader #armando aretas fanfic #armando x reader #armando aretas smut #armando aretas #jacob scipio #jacob scipio imagine #ebs writes things!#bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #bad boys

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peppermintquartz · 4 months ago

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Maddie really likes her baby brother's boyfriend. Tommy keeps Evan tethered, somehow, like Evan is a kitten or a puppy exploring everything everywhere, but Tommy holds the leash to make sure Evan doesn't run away into danger by himself. There's no actual leash or collar, of course (she thinks briefly of the one she and Howie have in the locked box under the bed, and vows never to let Evan know about it). Tommy just has to say, "Evan" in the quiet, sweet and assured way he has, and her baby brother bounces back to him immediately, no matter what they're doing or where they are. It's adorable.

Right now they're at the beach, Evan in his beach shorts running into the surf with Jee on his shoulders. Her husband's been dispatched to buy more popsicles. She has made herself comfortable on the mat under a huge rainbow umbrella, watching her family play.

Tommy is also in the water up to his thick thighs - a very scenic view he makes indeed, Maddie thinks privately, and makes a mental note to ask Chim if he ever had a crush on Tommy "Tall Dark and Handsome" Kinard. And each time Evan runs a little too fast or too deep, Tommy would make sure to catch them, keep Jee from falling. And when stronger waves roll in, Tommy keeps Evan next to him without making it look like he is giving an order, and Evan stays put, not risking his niece or himself. And this pattern continues even after Evan sets Jee down to run to her daddy for a frozen treat. Tommy and Evan swim out a little further, but Maddie knows that Evan can swim a lot further than that. Yet her brother seems happy to stay closer to shore, splashing water in Tommy's face and yelling when Tommy dunks him. Evan doesn't even protest when Tommy comes back ashore; the older man just holds out a hand and waits, and Evan comes running.

It's really adorable.

Maddie knows that such a display will only piss off her parents, and a dark, unforgiving part of her thinks, good. Because Evan could so easily have been a loving, loyal son if you'd tried at all when it mattered. She takes a deep breath and exhales it. Now that she has Jee, her parents' choices were even more incomprehensible, but she knows she has enough love to forgive them their selfishness, for her own peace of mind. But she's glad Evan found someone who cares so much to keep him safe while letting him be free.

#maddie buckley #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #tevan #kinley

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blackenedsnow · 2 months ago

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Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

#beetlejuice #keatlejuice #beetlejuice x reader #keatlejuice x reader #beetlejuice movie #x reader #oneshot #ask #request #fanfic #tim burton x reader #tim burton

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erodasfishtacos · 5 months ago

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Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||

Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out

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========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.

The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.

He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.

At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.

He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.

It came at a cost.

A really fucking big cost.

It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.

”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.

“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.

Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”

Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.

”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”

YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”

”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.

”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.

”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”

“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.

”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”

He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.

Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.

”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.

YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.

Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.

Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.

”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.

Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”

YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.

It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.

He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.

But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.

YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”

”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”

”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”

It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”

”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.

Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.

He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.

”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”

Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.

She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.

”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.

Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.

Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.

He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.

Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.

Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.

He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.

Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.

His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.

Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.

No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.

YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.

”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”

Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.

He was the cutest little thing.

Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.

”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.

”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”

YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”

”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”

Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”

One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.

It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.

YN had complete and utter trust in him.

It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.

”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”

”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”

YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”

Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”

YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”

”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`

After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.

The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.

YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot��he was.

YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.

She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.

He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.

Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.

There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.

”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.

His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.

What if she leaves you?

What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?

She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?

You don’t deserve her.

Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.

He had to make this up to her.

Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.

Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.

”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”

”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.

YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.

”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”

”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”

YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”

“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”

”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”

“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.

“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.

”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”

YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.

”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”

Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.

Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.

”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.

He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”

It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.

He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.

”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.

God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++

It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.

Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.

It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.

So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.

Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.

Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.

YN never complained about anything.

She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.

YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.

It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.

He was going to figure this out himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.

Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.

It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.

However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.

He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.

Harry should be enjoying his time right now.

They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.

Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.

And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.

When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.

He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.

Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.

He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.

When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.

”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“

A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.

”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”

Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”

“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.

“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.

“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”

“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”

His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.

Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.

“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”

Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.

Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.

Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.

Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.

When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.

“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.

“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.

“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.

“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.

“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.

“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.

“My bedroom-“

“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”

Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.

“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.

“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.

Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”

His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.

Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.

When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.

“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.

“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”

Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.

Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.

YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.

Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”

But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.

What is YN is leaving you?

What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?

First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?

Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything felt like it’s crumbling.

#ano #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #update #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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solbaby7 · 8 months ago

Note

Az is so🤤🤤 toxic men in real life repulsive me but Az does it soooo well.

Can you do a slutatious reader meets possessive Az?

Like he refuses to make it official so she continues about her life and he stay hearing rumors about her activities. He doesn’t want to be another fuck buddy but he’s also holding back from her and that pisses her off and encourages her to continue w her endeavors.

I’m talking screaming fighting throwing shit toxic🤭

i love your work mamita, I’ll read ur fics all day😩🤧

Maneater

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: toxic relationships, possessive!az, promiscuous girl, swearing, sexual themes, lemme just say thank god for this request, probably typos

—

“You’re not wearing that.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The retort comes easily, all too familiar with this dance. You continue as if he’s not there, staring at the material that molds to your curves like second skin. The entire back is out, the sultry swoop accentuating the fullness of your ass even if the front was fairly tame. Curled hair is flicked over your shoulder, lashes flirty and lips glossy as you reach for your clutch.

A shadow beats you to it, sliding the clutch just out of your reach and a slightly agitated smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you turn to face him. “I mean it. If that’s what you’re wearing, then you aren’t going.”

A brow raises, eyes taking in the perfect structure of Azriel’s face, the strong neckline and tattoos that crept up the left side. Rippling muscles strain against the black top; a pleasant contrast from his usual leathers and you nearly forget his audacity when appreciating his physique. “You must have the wrong room, Az.” You can’t help yourself but to touch, two manicured fingers dragging down the middle of his abdomen. Nails catch on the belt holding his breeches in place and the teasing tug has his pupils dilating. “Possibly confused me with one of those simpering females with damsel in distress tendencies? The ones who actually allow the tone you’re taking with me right now. ”

“I know exactly whose room I’m in,” Unashamed possessiveness radiates from every word and the step he takes to close the distance has an annoying effect on your body. “Just like I know exactly who won’t be leaving it if you don’t walk back over to that closet and change.”

“I have no reason to listen to you,” Azriel refused to admit it out loud, but he secretly loved this part—the pushback. The flirtatious flutter of your lashes and the seductive scent lacing every inch of glistening skin. “You have no claim over me. I’m a free female,” You know exactly what you’re doing; goading him with the same implications of the relationship that you and Azriel had been dancing around for the better part of a decade. It could’ve been different, could’ve spent more time making love rather than hate fucking against any sturdy surface after the shadowsingers jealousy had gotten the best of him after hearing yet another rumor about your latest conquest. “Free to do whom and whatever I please.”

He’s too good at feigning restraint when he truly was grappling for purchase; falling victim to such feminine curves and unwavering confidence. You peered up at him without fear, heart rate steady in his presence and he just barely catches the slightest hitch of your breath when Azriel’s hand wander up the bodice of the dress. Familiar fingers brush over the thick of your thighs, up the soft curve of your belly, taking special time over supple breasts and peaked nipples. Foolishly, you lean into the touch, goosebumps beginning to dot at your spine when the fabric rips in two. “It’s adorable that you believe that.” He doesn’t acknowledge your surprised expression, hands hovering over the ruined material as if it would magically sew back together. “Don’t ever make me repeat myself again.”

“You just—“

“I will see you there—in something much more appropriate, I’m sure.”

Azriel’s gone before you can respond, a humorless laugh passing glossy lips as you shuck off the remnants of your dress. High heels stomp against hardwood floors as you make your way to the closet, ripping through shades of deep navy’s and obsidian until your sights set on a sexy little number saved for special occasions.

A sinister smirk forms as you slip into it, eyes almost sparkling as you regard yourself in the full length mirror.

The halter neckline crosses at the chest, cupping cleavage with ease as the intricate golden bustier cinches at your sides, creating the illusion of wider hips and ensures nothing less than an elegant posture when you stride inside. Soft silks and chiffon kisses at the length of your legs, grazing over painted toes in painfully high heels but it pulls the attention you were searching for. Necks craning and hungry eyes eat up every dip and curve of your figure, mouths salivating at the liquid gold that pushes up the weight of your breasts. “You’re late,” Rhysand voice murmurs in your mind, utter boredom creeping into his every feature.

Your eyes slide to Azriel when you answer, anticipation buzzing beneath the surface of your body. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

To anyone else, the shadowsinger would appear to be the embodiment of stoicism.

But you knew that hard line of his shoulders, the barely restrained tick of his jaw, the slight flexing of his fingers around the thick arms crossed over his chest. The firelight crackles around him, golden light casting perfect shadows that nearly blend seamlessly to the ones that sang to him. With each step closer to the dias, those shadows grow more agitated, wiggling restlessly at Azriel’s feet, stretching up the length of his back to whisper in his ear.

You play coy too well, nodding respectfully to the High Lord and Lady before taking your place but those shadows shove you in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Azriel’s towering form, the wings held high behind him subconsciously tucking you out of view. “Appropriate enough for you?”

“You are the most stubborn female I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d just admit it.”

He pretends not to care, masking desperate glances with hardened side eyes. The grip on his crossed arms gets tighter, barely refraining from the urge to drag you away from all the eyes greedily eating up your form as if it were a six-course meal with desserts on the side. “Admit what?”

“That you want me.”

That you love me the same way I love you.

That you don’t want it to just be a game anymore either.

Azriel doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even look your way but the sneer that curls at the edge of his perfect mouth was enough to have your confidence faltering. “I have better things to do with my time than chase after some harlot.”

Your brows snap up, nearly blending in with the seam of your hairline. He regrets every word when the teasing spark fades from your eye. Taking a sizable step away from him, your face goes hard like steel, nose scrunching with barely concealed humiliation and your teeth bare like a wild animal when Azriel reaches out to touch. “Don’t,” Angry tears make your eyes go glassy but not once does your voice waver. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

Rhys had already dismissed the others, waving a lazy hand and music fills the space. The strong smell of food permeating the air and you’re quick to blend into the gathering crowd, making a beeline for the elegant champagne pyramid tucked on the other side of the room.

Your hands shake when you grab the first glass, taking it back more like a shot than a classy sip of the flute but you just needed your hands to stop shaking—your heart to stop racing. One drink quickly turns to three and you’re well on your way to a fourth when a hand curls around your shoulder. “Fueling up for me?” The familiar drawl of Autumn’s first born heir reaches your ear, halting your display of gluttony.

This was why you were here—in Hewn City, prancing about the Court of Nightmares. Acting as a pretty faced guide the Night Court provided as light entertainment before Eris would be escorted off to the private meeting room two halls down. You’d amuse a few dances, allow him to talk your ear off and pretend you don’t notice his fingers inching down the curve of your spine. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for you, Vanserra.”

His brow raises, a sly smirk growing as the lights from the iron-wrought chandeliers casted their shadows against the burnt copper of his hair. Warm eyes trail down the length of your form, a single finger twitching when taking in intricate details of your gold bodice; the rich fabric that was so dark it almost seemed blue in certain light. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m just hot and talking.”

Eris is just as bold as you remember, laughing softly under your breath at his proximity when you’ve turned around for another glass but a quick hand has swiped it from your grasp before a single drop can coat your tongue. “You’re testy tonight.” You can feel the cool caress of Az’s shadows curling around your ankle, a silent claim that has your teeth gritting against each other.

For once, you amuse the Autumn heir and his playful fire, dancing into the thick of his flame when you allow him to finish your drink and guide you to the dance floor with the others. “I double booked,” You lie easily, following his lead effortlessly as if you didn’t feel that cool wisp of a shadow steadily clamping tighter against your ankle. Low chatter blocks out the ability for others to eavesdrop but you can feel those golden eyes burning holes into the side of your face—to the bare strip of skin at your hip where Eris’ hand rested for the entire duration of the dance. “Can’t help the attitude that lingers knowing that I have to spend my night prattling about with you when I could’ve been indulging in multiple orgasms.”

A laugh that’s smooth like whiskey escapes Eris, a hint of a dimple forming on his left cheek and you hate that you notice the perfect lines of his teeth; his bottom lip that was fuller than the top, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicating it’d definitely been broken at least once in his life. “There’s ample time before my meeting if you’d like to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Maybe I’d agree,” You make a show out of examining him, subtly inhaling the spice of his cologne. Handsome but not Azriel. “If the ‘cake’ was a different flavor.”

Eris doesn’t falter for a second, even with the entirety of your Inner Circle’s attention fixed on him and the hands he had on your body. The deep baritone of his voice rumbles against your chest, nipples pebbling at the sensation. “Close your eyes then,” Words whisper at the lobe of your ear and the glittering jewel poked through it. “You can pretend I’m whoever you want with my tongue between your thighs.”

A witty remark crawls to the tip of your tongue, readying itself to leap off when that ghost chain around your leg pulls taut. There’s only enough time for your eyes to widen before you’re tugged away from Eris like a dog on a leash. It leads you out of the room and into the hall, refusing to loosen even a touch when you stubbornly resist but there’s no point when you’re cloaked in shadows. You barely notice the scenery change before you’re back at home and tossed over a shoulder. “You stupid, brutish, ape of a male!” Your shouts echo through the empty halls, bouncing off closed doors as Azriel strides through the foyer like he was on a mission. “Put me down right now!” Every word is coupled with the palms of your hands slapping at his thighs and digging into the back of his knees. One hand cranes back to dig into the thick of his hair and tug—hard.

Azriel’s hand is harder though, pure heat burning against the skin of your ass when it connects with a deafening clap. “Shut up.”

Your jostled back into place, cheeks warm and hands frozen where they’re bunched in the fine material of his dress shirt. “Az—“

His hand comes down once more and this time you yelp, teeth biting into the fat of your bottom lip as he clears the stairs and makes a sharp left. “I told you to shut up.”

Every bone in your body screams for you to comply, primal instincts igniting deep within advising you take the route of self-preservation but your pride overrides better judgement. “And I told you, I’m a free female. Let me go, right now!” You squirm once more, legs kicking and arms clawing for release when you’re roughly thrown off his shoulder and shoved into the wall in a motion so fluid it takes the air from your lungs.

Fuck your pride for letting her mouth write checks your ass couldn’t cash.

You’d never seen such darkness in such a vast sea of gold, the whole pupil of Azriel’s eyes blown out like a feral animal salivating at the mouth. “Do you feel like a free female right now?” He already knows the answer judging by the pleased smirk beginning to creep in the corner of his mouth at the sight of his shadows holding your hands in place.

You swallow thickly, annoyingly affected by his closeness and the hard bulge that throbs at your belly when he curls a hand around your neck, nose brushing your own. “I certainly don’t feel like I belong to you.”

“I can fix that.” It’s a promise. One you silently scold yourself for praying that it’s a promise he makes good on.

The Mother has favorites and tonight you must be one of them.

The kiss Azriel initiates is nothing short of brutal; the drag of his tongue across the seam of your lips his only kindness before gaining access and completely dominating from the inside out. Every touch is claiming; a strong hand calloused from centuries of skilled swordplay is generous when easing off the expensive gold bodice before the delicate fabric beneath is torn to shreds. Pretty strips of dark material spills to the floor, left for the house to clean as your thighs are gripped and your weight is hoisted up, legs cradling the muscular taper of Azriel’s waist.

He’s sucking marks into your neck, back pressed against the wall as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin there. Breasts spill from the confines of your bra, straps eased down your shoulders to make more room for his mouth to lay claim to. Azriel pinches at your nipples, eating up every sound like it’s offered on a platter. “Those noises sound like you belong to me.” Every nerve burns where he touches, marring your flesh and branding his mark as arousal collects in your underthings.

“Azriel,” You pant, trying to clear the fog of your brain but he’s all consuming; refusing to allow you air if it’s not the same one he breathes.

The flimsy underwear is pushed aside, familiar fingers collecting the slick gathering between your legs and a cruel smile grows on his face. “It certainly feels like you belong to me.” A thumb pressed firmly on the stiff bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles that has your toes curling. A thump sounds from where your head falls back to the ball, exposing the line of your neck and the dark purple bruises smattered along it. Your eyes close for a second, breath labored and mouth salivating from the promise of more but all that changes when his hands bunch up the elegant curl of your hair. He wraps it around like a leash, forcing you to look him in the eye and the rasp of his voice is devastating. “So why the fuck can’t you get it through your pretty head, huh?”

It’s a rhetorical question, that much you gather when he moulds his mouth to yours before you can even begin to muster up an answer. You’re boneless in his grasp, allowing him to take you to his room and share his sheets. The bedside table screeches when Azriel’s boot kicks at it, knocking over lamps and light bulbs shatter on the hardwood. He doesn’t even flinch, glass crunching under the soles of his shoes that he kicks off as he eases you down. “Az,” Insecurity threatens to rear her ugly head and ruin the moment, trying to push forth his hurtful words and the years of dancing around this feeling but Azriel’s already there to push that away. “Are you sure you even want to?”

“You belong to me,” He says and it’s final. Offering up the keys to the locked box filled with everything you’d dreamed about when you closed your eyes and wished on falling stars every year. Off goes his shirt and shortly his pants follow, dragging his underwear along with it and you can’t fight the moan when all of that bare skin is exposed and hovering above you. “Say it,” He urges, the hard length of him slotting between spread legs, grinding against warm need until you’re keening soft pleas into his chest, heels digging into his back.

The intrusion makes you gasp, hands greedy and mouth glued to his while he fucked into you like he always did. It’s a demanding pace; forcing you to take all of him while he watched you lose all your composure—all that beautiful fight that drew him to you in the first place. Az doesn’t stop, spurred on by strangled moans and choked words garbled together begging for more of him; harder, faster, deeper. Your clenching around him when the words stutter out of you in a whisper. “I belong to you.”

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whiskersz · 9 months ago

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Hey so I just saw you had request opened for Adam so could you please do headcannons with Adam x reader where the reader is like very nervous at first and is quiet but after a bit when they open up is supper out going and talks a lot? Have an amazing day/night!

Hello there! Happy to write some Adam headcanons for you, dear reader! Hope you like these and have a wonderful day/night yourself :3 I assumed these were meant to be romantic but they can be read either way.

Adam x Quiet -> Outgoing! Reader HCs

Adam isn’t really sure what to think of you at first.

He never knows what to make of quiet people; is there a storm brewing in their little brain, or are they uninteresting and as such undeserving of his attention? Lute is the first for example, and he quite likes her, so he decides to give you a chance.

What really amuses him is your nervousness around him at first; he’ll tease you by asking things such as “What, cat got your tongue?” and make fun of you when you stumble on your own words, his booming laugh catching the attention on anyone nearby.

Lord knows why you stick around, but you do, and day after day you two somehow grow closer; you get used to his tacky jokes about your personality and little by little you learn to either ignore him and move on or retort with the first thing that comes to mind, shushing him. He’ll either blow you a very immature raspberry or flip the bird at you whenever this happens.

Once you open up a bit and become way more talkative though, unfortunately for you, he finds a whole new reason to be rude to you;

“Got your tongue back I see. Great, now I’ve got a pest by my side.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re going to give me a headache!”

“Do you ever shut up?”

As you can probably tell having any kind of relationship with Adam is not the easiest thing in the world – or well, in Heaven, in this case.

It’s not rare for you to get a bit offended by what he says, but you’ve figured out a way to worm your way into his heart and get him to listen to you: acts of service.

Adam is a bit lazy when it comes to doing things that aren’t fun for him, so the best way to get him to calm down a bit is to take the weight off his shoulders and do whatever needs to be done in his stead.

Of course, we’re talking about everyday acts, such as doing the groceries or cleaning. He’s going to be overjoyed if you get him something he likes while you’re out too; every time you come back home from grocery shopping with ribs to cook, he’s oh-so going to listen to your rants about how long the line at the cash register was or whatever you have to talk about this time.

He’s also a big napper, and it’s surprising even to him how much it helps him fall asleep when you talk about literally anything as he’s trying to take a nap. These are the times where he’ll actually reply to what you’re saying too!

“...and that’s when my friend left. I couldn’t believe it, like... if she really cared she would’ve stayed, right?”

“What...is she a fucking bitch? Of course she would’ve stayed if she gave a damn.”

He answers with his eyes closed each time, but his eyebrows are still furrowed in frustration whenever you tell him about someone or something that pissed you off.

Lute probably questions you guys’ relationship, not going to lie. She can deal with Adam, but you? She has absolutely no idea how you put up with him, but as long as she gets some free time for herself she’s not going to complain.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #x reader #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin

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qqueenofhades · 4 months ago

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AAAAHHHHHHHH It's TIM! 1000% strong MN girl here and boy it's been real fun to watch Tim (and Peggy! Our amazing lieutenant governor) take a small small Democratic majority and do incredible things. My kid ate two meals at school every day for free. DELIGHTED that he's the VP pick. LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!

Listen, I am just ECSTATIC. Ever since I seriously became tuned into the veepstakes, he was my number one pick (I mean, I was not immune to the brief flirtation everyone had with Beshear/Buttigieg/etc), but yes. Walz was my top pick and I was trying desperately not to get my heart too set on him in case it fell through, but he was the obvious best choice of the contenders by a country mile. He has an almost absurdly Midwestern pro-America background (military veteran, public school teacher, football coach from a small rural town, etc) AND he has managed to enact a long list of progressive policies in Minnesota with a very narrow majority in the state legislature. Also, you're going to be seeing a lot of this video, for good reason:

Also.... let's be real, Shapiro would have been an incredible distraction/drag on the ticket, unfortunately. We don't need to deal with his retrograde views on Gaza and his other baggage, and while he is a very popular governor in Pennsylvania, it's less certain that his appeal would translate to other states. We can argue (or you know, let's not and move on) about whether or not that was fair, but this is just not the year to try to win the most critical high-stakes election ever by pissing off young voters. Shapiro has done plenty of good things and has time to develop his career further, but he would have been a BAD pick for 2024 and I was alarmed at how many Respected Pundits (tm) were pulling for him. Reuters even claimed that picking him would "defang Republican attempts to make Israel-Gaza a wedge issue for Democrats," which is such a mind-bogglingly stupid statement that it makes you wonder how anyone writing it actually got paid for their political insight, but it also explains a lot about mainstream media these days. Picking Shapiro would have been an absolute gift to the Republicans and bad-faith actors and others (plus like, I don't want to have to spend time winning back the young voters who are actually once more engaged in the process!) and would have led to the media eagerly jumping into the feeding frenzy (because they're desperate to have a reason not to cover Trump's increasingly crazy-ass shit) and other Democratic-on-Democratic infighting. And it goes without saying that WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT.

As well, picking Shapiro just because you need to win PA this election cycle is yet another example of why the Electoral College sucks, and the polling averages in PA have been moving solidly blue anyway. You can just park Shapiro there and have him campaign in the state as the sitting popular governor, rather than expose him to the liability of a nationwide campaign where, as noted, all the other stuff would be a drag. If it's true that the establishment was pushing Harris to pick Shapiro and she picked Walz instead, a) GOOD! and b) if anything, this election cycle needs to fucking teach us that we have got to stop going with the Conventional Wisdom Tee Em. Walz was already out there, he was already popular with the public/energizing the grassroots, AND he was the guy who coined the "Weird" attack line that is actually effective and organically popular against the Republicans and drives them batshit. So for Kamala to lean into that and take him as her running mate is... zomgz... smart, and I am not used to the Democrats playing smart and aggressive and not just passive-defensive. I don't understand. Wow.

Anyway, now watch the New York Times (and the others, lbr, but especially the NYT) desperately try to dig up scandalous stories about that time Walz didn't stop at the 4H booth at the county fair, or walked past someone without saying "Ope just gonna sneak by ya first" or some other terrible Midwestern sin, but fuck those guys. I am EXCITED I am ENERGIZED I am THRILLED. This is a GREAT new ticket that came together at incredibly short notice and completely changed the dynamics everywhere, Walz is gonna make JD Vance cry (unsure whether I want to see Harris demolish Trumpster or Midwestern Dad to turn the cranks on Weird Couchfucking Fascist Skidmark more, but both, both, both is good). LET'S GO GET THOSE WEIRD MOTHERFUCKERS, Y'ALL!!

HARRIS/WALZ 2024!

#amongthestarsatnight #ask #politics for ts #kamala harris 2024 #harris walz 2024

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redstarwriting · 1 year ago

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the clash | iii. black planet

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, needles mentioned, slight injury from said needle

a/n: is this one long? yes. do i care? no because it was fun to write. it was 3 am when i finished this and make this a draft, so you know i had fun with this chapter. also, i’m about to go into work, so i will probably not be here but i wanted to post it beforehand so i can just worry about working on chapter iv later. and just wanna say i’m grateful to everyone who is reading and interacting with the posts! this has been such a warm welcome back into writing for the marvel universe and i appreciate each and every one of you :)🖤 also i have a question, feel free to answer in the comments or pm me, do i go all the way in the angst for this, or only some angst?

now reading: iii. black planet

previous chapter: ii. time bomb

next chapter: iv. london calling

───────────────────────────────────

You open a portal to your world, and dramatically motion everyone inside. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr step into it, and you glance at Hobie. “Are you actually coming, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says sarcastically, stepping into the portal. You enter last, walking until you’re in the familiar darkness of your apartment. “Welcome to my home,” you say, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. As you’re pouring, you hear one of your guests speak up. “Is that… a real skull…?” Pavitr asks, pointing to a human skull above your fireplace mantle. “Sure is. She’s my aunt,” you say, taking a sip of water. They all look at you with a look that reads ‘is it… that aunt?’

You nod.

It isn’t brought up again.

Hobie sees a vinyl player and immediately walks over to it. He observes the multiple albums and singles and then comes across vinyls that don’t look like they belong to any band in particular. “You press your own vinyl?”

“Obviously. There’s just something better about vinyl than listening to it on my phone, so I press my own playlists,” you say, and Hobie glances up at you. “It sounds more real. Scratches and all, makes it feel authentic,” he says, placing a record on your player and placing the needle on it surprisingly gently. You raise your eyebrow at him. ‘Of course he would get the record thing,’ you think to yourself, ‘he is a guitarist after all.’

“I totally agree,” Gwen says, and you nod. Musician things. Ambient sounds accompanied by faint guitar riffs fill the room. You nod in approval. This is one of your favorite songs. Gwen smiles. “Your place is so fucking cool, (Y/n),” she says, walking over to the crystal ball and various tarot decks you have set up on your kitchen table. “Thanks, I take pride in it,” you say and Hobie makes a noise. “Could be better. Tell me, do you consider any color? Ever? Like what the fuck kind of plants are these that they’re all black?”

“They’re called Raven ZZ plants, and actually, they’re a bright green when new leaves sprout, but no. Color is not for me. The only reason I have the tiniest bit of pastel pink on my spider suit is because I need to continue to throw people off my scent.”

“How d’you reckon a tiny splash a’ color will do that?”

“There are various different types of goth. If I only used my own style, it would make the likelihood of me being me much higher than I would like,” you explain, and Miles looks around. “So… this place haunted?” he asks and you grin. “Yes.”

“Ghosts aren’t fuckin’ real.” Hobie scoffs, and he has to bite back a laugh at how quickly you turn your head to him. He actually does believe in ghosts, just a tiny bit, but doing anything to piss you off has become his new motto. Even if he has to lie.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make one of them possess you,” you say icily, and a cold breeze rolls through the room and blows out some of the candles. Pavitr shrieks and jumps into Miles’ arms. Gwen mutters something about that being ‘so cool.’ Hobie looks virtually unimpressed and you two glare at each other until you all get an all too familiar feeling of danger. You all turn your head toward your balcony, and you see an explosion in the distance. “Fuck,” you mumble, jumping into action immediately. You pull your mask on, and jump without a second thought. It’s a new thing when you glance over and see Hobie right by you. “Was that a bomb? Who could that be?” Miles asks and you sigh. “Probably the Green Goblin,” you say, and Hobie opens his mouth to say another sarcastic remark but is cut off when he gets to observe what your swinging is like.

You literally move like the wind. It’s fluid and smooth in nature, and he pays special attention to how you barely make noise when you land on a building to run. It’s actually impressive, and it makes him lose whatever rude comment he thought of. It’s the complete opposite of how he is. Erratic and loud. He doesn’t know whether to respect it or make fun of you for it later. Probably the latter. “Hey (Y/n)? Is the sky normally this dark? I thought it was like 6pm,” Pavitr asks as you all swing and you nod. “The sun is only out for like 2-3 hours a day here,” you respond. “Damn a little sunlight never killed anybody,” Miles says, and you shrug. “Honestly, here it might.”

“Is that why you’re so moody and negative? Only light you get is from the moon?” Hobie asks and you roll your eyes. “Actually, I was born that way. My style of living has nothing to do with my moodiness and realistic outlook,” you shoot back, emphasizing the point of realistic and not negative. He just shakes his head.

You all arrive at the location the explosive went off, and you notice there are still people inside the parking garage that was hit. “We’re on it!” Gwen says, motioning for Pavitr and Miles to follow her. The three of them take off in an instant, and you keep your eyes peeled and ears open to hear the wings of the Green Goblin’s glider. Hobie hangs back, not saying anything for once in his life. Until he gets an uneasy feeling. “Something’s close.”

“I know, idiot, I have the sense too.”

“I was just sayi–”

He’s cut off by a tiny bag of… powder… being thrown between the two of you. You both leap out of the way immediately before it explodes. “Found you!” Hobie hears a maniacal laugh, “Ohhhh and you brought a friend!” The Green Goblin of your universe giggles, and he realizes that the glider she’s on is a giant taxidermy bat accessorized with mechanical elements making it able to fly again. “Not their friend,” he yells at the Goblin before addressing you, “What the actual fuck is ‘at?” Hobie yells and you sigh. “That’s the Green Goblin of my universe, she’s a fucking lunatic who wants to turn me into a taxidermy sculpture and sell me at an art auction.”

“She an Osborn?”

“Yes, Harriet Osborn,” you say, dodging another… bomb? Hobie honestly doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. “Well, I’ve killed one Osborn already, what’s another,” he says, and you make a gasping noise. “Oh no… don’t tell me…”

“We can’t kill Harriet!”

“Why the fuck not?! She’s tryna kill you!”

“Because of personal reasons! You’re not about to come into my world, and kill my villains, asshole!” you scream, and he groans. “Fuckin’ fine. Whatever, we take her down, we don’t kill her,” he says, and you nod. “I take her down. Like I have countless times before.”

“Uh uh uh, I’m here for a reason, we take her down.”

“Gods, fine. Whatever,” you huff and the both of you dodge another explosive. You point to Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr who are motioning to you that they got everyone out of the garage. Without speaking, the two of you develop a plan. You immediately web into the garage, going down to the bottom floor. Of course, your Goblin follows you, completely disregarding Hobie even being there. He follows behind. It’s dark in here, all the lighting has gone out inside and the black sky outside makes it difficult to see. You use the stealth he observed earlier to your advantage. Even he has trouble picking out where you are, and he has super senses. He makes his way to a pillar that supports the garage as quietly as he can, which, luckily, is quiet enough that he goes unnoticed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he hears in a sing-songy voice.

He carefully picks up a rock and glances around the garage. He’s behind a pillar that will help bring the whole thing down, he just needs to deduce which of the other pillars will assist in that. Lucky for him, you’re there too. He hears a noise behind one of the pillars, and sure enough, an explosion soon follows. He quickly realizes where the other weak points are and throws a rock at one of the others. Boom. Explosion. And then one more. He glances to his left to see you right next to him. You both nod at each other, and he hits a power chord. You roll your eyes. “A little flashy, don’t you think,” you say as the two of you leap out of the way and there’s one more explosion. “Not flashy enough, love,” he responds as the garage starts to shake.

The two of you expertly navigate the falling rocks as you make your way out of the collapsing building. Right when you get out, your eyes widen, and you twist your body so the glider doesn’t impale you. You land on top, and the Goblin turns around. Half of her mask is broken and she’s bleeding from being hit by one of the rocks. You can tell the glider was hit, too, because it seems to be stalling every now and again. It does get you farther away from your spider-companions, but they start webbing after you. “Found you,” she says. “No shit, Harriet. It only took you demolishing ONE building to do it this time, feels like a new personal record for you,” you respond, and she throws a punch at you. You dodge, and then see her pull out an unnecessarily large taxidermy needle. “Ah, shit,” you mumble as she starts wielding it like a dagger. You’re able to dodge most of her attacks, but the last one grazes your side. You hiss and realize she put another attempt of a knockout serum on it as well. Great. She laughs.

“Stupid spider! I didn’t need to stab you; I just needed a little graze! See, I put a special kind of toxin on my needle, and now it–” She gets knocked out by a single punch to the face. “You talk way too damn much, girl,” you mumble, webbing her to the side of a building as she falls off her glider. Oh shit. The glider. You leap off, despite the pain in your side and the woozy feeling that’s starting to show up and web the glider. You then go water skiing without the water. Or the skiis. And on the road. Oops.

You do your best to control the glider, swerving between cars and making sure it doesn’t run into any of the skyscrapers in downtown Night of Yore City. That’s when you realize it’s about to run straight into a building. You narrow your eyes. It’s time to do your Spider thing. You yank back on the glider, causing it to stall. You leap up onto the side of a building, detaching three webs onto it and leaping to the other one. You repeat until a full spiderweb is formed, blocking the glider’s way to the building, and repeat so it’s underneath the glider as well. You quickly web up the giant claws of the taxidermy bat, ensuring they can’t cut through your webs, and wrap the glider up, swinging around it in a circle. You attach the end of the web to the big spider web you just made and watch it slow down even more. It goes into the web in front of the building, and slightly indents into it, but that’s the further it gets.

You crouch on a lamppost, watching to make sure nothing bad happens. When you’re positive everything’s fine, you stand. A few citizens yell some thanks you’s, more glare at you because you just ruined their day, and some just ignore you completely. You look up and see the four other Spider-People chilling on the side of a building. You quickly join them. “Never seen someone make a web that fast and efficiently,” Gwen says, motioning to the web you wove. You shrug. “Thank you.”

“Unfortunate a buildin’ had to come down in the process,” Hobie says, not giving you a break or any type of praise. You roll your eyes. “Let’s not forget you were part of the reason the building came down.”

“I could have done it without the destruction.”

“Like you would have.”

“I wouldn’t have, but I could have. Obviously, you couldn’t,” he says, and you flip him off as you all begin webbing back to your apartment. Once you get there, you assess the damage the needle did to you. Some weird green toxin was in the cut, and you sigh. “Wait, (Y/n), that looks kind of serious,” Gwen says, noting the discoloration of the toxin compared to your skin. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. She keeps trying to make a knock-out serum to use on me. None of them are strong enough,” you affirm, the slight wooziness you had felt earlier is completely gone. Now you just need to wash and dress this, and it should be healed by morning. “Or maybe she’s just a shit chemist.”

“Thank you, Hobie, for your doubt that I’m a capable Spider-Person,” you say, and he nods at you. “Always.”

You get out your first aid kit and clean your wound up. It stings, and you wince, and the others know that feeling all too well. “Right, well now that we’ve seen this gloomy, depressin’, dark ass world, why don’t we go see an actual fun world, eh?” Hobie says, starting to press some buttons on his watch. “Go to your world? What so I can be blown away with too loud amps and catch on fire because some dumbass thinks they can make a flamethrower with some sort of cleaning spray and a lighter? No thanks,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes. “Not like I want you there anyways, love,” he says. You hate this new nickname he’s picked for you. It’s not endearing, it’s annoying. And he knows that it bothers you. You angrily put your first aid kit down and glare at him. “Fine. But hold on one second.”

You scale your wall and reach into an impossibly high cupboard, pulling out some cat food. Suddenly, the four spiders see two bright green eyes in the darkness of what appears to be your bedroom. You fill up a bowl, and your black cat saunters over to you. You pet his head, giving him a few scritches between the ears, his favorite spot. Hobie’s grateful you’re preoccupied with your cat because he does not need you to see the expression on his face. He loves cats. Especially black cats, they’re a perfect symbol of rebellion. Maybe he’ll come back here one day but only for your cat. ONLY.

“Alright, now that you’ve fed the cat, can we please leave? I can feel my soul bein’ sucked out of my body the longer I stand here,” Hobie says, impatiently, and you roll your eyes. “That’s the ghosts doing that, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @d1nne @dotheyevenknowmars @f1shb0nez @fisshil @imarealfungi @ineedsomeconfidence @iwillrisefromthefire @jingliuu @jjkclub @khaleesihavilliard @marshallowy @miwagila @naarra* @nikabearr @sillylittleguyinc @sparklyphantom @sxftiebee @weyrrii* @wheeeelys @zero-boxes

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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anonymous-dentist · 2 months ago

Text

Bleeding Heart Part Two

Part One

Cellbit gets an email notification as Bagi is driving him home from the hospital.

As expected, Bagi is royally pissed about him ending up in the hospital again. She's even more upset over him getting to meet her criminal before she could. She's even more upset over the fact that Cellbit refuses to tell her anything about what he saw outside of an interrogation room.

"It can be off the record!" she offers, dangling the opportunity to gossip over Cellbit's head like a set of shiny keys.

But Cellbit just shakes his head and sighs, slumping in his seat; the seatbelt cuts into his throat uncomfortably, but he really feels like he needs the grounding right now.

Hombre Misterioso... the Federation's most recent nuisance, a bloodthirsty emo killer in a gas mask and a cape, and a goddamn fanboy.

Cellbit's stomach curls at the thought of Hombre Misterioso going through his stuff while he was passed out on the sidewalk. He already knows about his camera- it's been confiscated by Bagi to be used as evidence- but what about his wallet? His face?

Obviously, Cellbit's mask was off when he woke up at the hospital. The nurses removed it, or the paramedics did in the ambulance. Or. Or Hombre Misterioso did. They want Enigma on their side, of course they would try and find his civilian identity.

Bagi, frustrated, turns the radio up so she doesn't start arguing. (She has a strict 'no arguing after the hospital' policy.)

It's music. Bagi hates listening to the news. She isn't Cellbit, after all. She is the news, she doesn't hear it when she's not at work.

Cellbit looks down at his phone. There's a text notification from the man from the hospital. It's just a smiley face and his name, Roier, so his number went through.

Roier agreed to Bagi's request for testimony immediately. He set a time and a date to meet her at the station, and then he left... but not before making sure that Cellbit got his phone number and that he got Cellbit's.

("Just in case," he had said.

Cellbit had raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing at his lips. "In case of what?"

Roier just shrugged and winked, and Bagi, in the corner talking with a doctor, had gagged. Physically.)

And then there's the email notification: '1 New Email: Regarding Your Photos...'.

Cellbit turns his phone off. Flips it over so it's face-down in his lap and he doesn't have to think about it.

Late that night, Cellbit tries to sleep. But, every time he closes his eyes, he sees glass. Feels paper against his skin. Smells Isopropanol.

Richarlyson is with Felps for the next few days so Cellbit can recover in peace, so Cellbit isn't too worried about anyone seeing him as he rolls out of bed and drags himself and his phone to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Glass under the faucet, Cellbit scrubs at his face with his free hand. What time is it, anyway?

Glass filled, Cellbit sits at the table and opens his camera roll. Goes to the album dedicated to pictures of Richarlyson. Smiles softly into his water.

Richarlyson is... afraid of the cold. He always wears a knit hat to keep his ears warm. He wears long-sleeved shirts under his favorite jersey. He sleeps with five blankets on his bed even in the summer.

Even with Richarlyson gone, Cellbit's apartment is like a sauna. Hence the water: Cellbit would dehydrate otherwise.

One picture in the album is of Richarlyson doing a handstand in front of the judge at the family court Cellbit and Richarlyson's other parents all had to go to to get equal custody of him. Pac is making a peace sign, Felps is holding Richarlyson's legs so he doesn't fall, Cellbit is dabbing, and Bagi is dabbing in the opposite direction; Mike is behind the camera, unwilling to have his photo taken in a court of law.

Cellbit understands being afraid of the cold. He used to cry if he wasn't wearing at least two layers at all times; the orphanage beat that out of him quickly, though.

Richarlyson won't ever have that happen to him. He works on his own fear one step at a time, at his own pace, and in his own time. And Cellbit will be with him every step of the way.

Yawning, Cellbit accidentally swipes a bit too forcefully from the top of his screen and opens the notification center. And right there, once again, is the email notification: '1 New Email: Regarding Your Photos...'.

He stares at it.

He stares at it for a long time.

He's so focused on it that he doesn't realize that his water is spilling too far out of his glass until it's hitting his legs.

Swearing, he puts his glass down and pinches the bridge of his nose. (He is an adult.)

His thumb moves on its own. It taps the email notification and opens the email, and there it is. The email. From the email notification.

From Cucurucho.

Mr. Balanar, It has come to our attention at the Federation of Heroes that you have been attacked by a villain near our headquarters. We here at the Federation of Heroes offer our sincerest apologies. No citizen of Q City should feel unsafe walking the streets, and no citizen should ever be harmed so close to safety. Attached to this email is a $10 coupon for a Federation of Heroes-affiliated business of your choice. Take this as a sign of our apologies, and as a promise that we will keep you safe in the future. In addition to this matter, I would like to personally discuss the photographs taken by the villain on your camera. I would like to offer you a compensation of your choice in exchange for these photos as well as any you may take in the future of this specific villain. It would be of extreme benefit to Q City and to the Federation of Heroes. We must eradicate villainy from the streets of the city at any cost, and the cost is up to you. Monetary compensation for civilians can reach up to $50 per photo. Perhaps you could use this to take your family to the new Federation of Heroes: Avengers Assemble!! stage show opening in a few weeks. Thank you for doing business with us. C.B. Cucurucho, Civilian Liaison, Federation of Heroes

Cellbit doesn't even hesitate before deleting the email. His hands shake as he does, though, and his chest heaves with pained breaths, and his stomach turns and bubbles, and his blood boils.

Literally.

He doesn't mind the pain, though.

It just warms him up.

(He hates the cold.)

He gets a phone call a few days later as he's rewrapping the bandage around his hand.

Unknown number.

Before answering, he makes sure his super illegal recording app is, well, recording.

And then he accepts the call, putting it on speaker so he can keep messing with his bandage.

"Hello?" he greets, running through his professional monologue in his head. Just in case. It could be a client, who knows?

Silence.

Cellbit frowns.

"Hello," he repeats, firmer. "Can I help you?"

Nothing but a crackle from the other end of the line. Almost like popcorn, but slower. On a loop, as if it's breathing. FWOOSH-fwoosh, FWOOSH-fwoosh.

He's about to hang up when a familiar voice sends a chill down his spine:

"Aquarium," says Hombre Misterioso. "Saturday. Midnight. We need to talk."

"Oh, we do not," Cellbit scowls. He scoops the phone up, bandages be damned, and holds it close to his mouth so the bastard can hear every ounce of distaste in his voice as he continues, "I don't know you. You don't know me. We have no business with each other. At all."

Hombre Misterioso just laughs, slow and deliberate and... pained? There's a thin line of something seeping through their voice changer, what is it?

"Funny!" Hombre Misterioso exclaims. "I'll see you on Saturday, mi enigmito."

And then they hang up.

And Cellbit realizes that they did look at everything, after all. His camera, his wallet, his phone.

And him.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#enigma misterioso au #everybody thank bluesky for this getting a part two #they absolutely devoured the first part #99% sure i did 'little enigma' right at the end. enigmito

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thewritergx · 2 months ago

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Simon Says: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/N just back from an awful case. You fucked up big time and now Dean has to teach you how to listen.

Warnings: Smut, Pet Names (Baby, Slut, Bitch), Dom!Dean, Blood. Bodily injury, Oral (male-receiving), Breeding Kink, Spanking, Squirting, could be non-con if you squint.

Word Count: 4K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

A small gash bled across my face. Fucking Demons, I rolled my eyes. O was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, listening to Dean bitch about how I can't put yourself in situations like that. I rolled my eyes again

The three of us thought we were on a routine ghost hunt, only to find it was a group of high up demons terrorizing a quiet town in Texas. We knew who they were but not where they were staying or why they were here. Sam and I had come up with a great plan. I was going to seek out a demon at the bar, get him to take you back to his place. We were told by a few locals where they liked to hangout, drink as much as their vessels would allow. It was working out perfectly too.

I sat down on a rickety old stool, ordered a vodka cranberry from the waitress. She was nice, dressed as a pinup girl doll. She wore cutoff shorts, a flannel crop top tied in bow under her breast and a cowboy hat. I admired her body, the way her clothes fit her perfectly.

A few seats down from me a tall man with a bread sat sipping a whiskey drink on rocks. I walked over, taking my drink. I could spot a demon easily. They always stood in public spaces, always looking like they were waiting, watching too closely.

As I approached him, I flashed a smile.

“Hey, care for some company”. My hair covered an earpiece connected to Sam and Dean. I felt like an FBI agent wearing it. I also decided this was the perfect time to fuck with Dean. He was in a horrible mood the entire drive down and he hated the plan Sam and I created.

The demon smiled. Whoever he was wearing took great care of his body. His arms were toned, nice curls in his hair. I couldn't complain. I dragged my care closer to him. “What's your name, big boy?” I sipped out of your drink, trying to make it look like I was actually drinking while still staying level headed.

“Paul, what about you pretty girl?” The Demon in Paul’s body moved a strand of hair out of your face, brushing it behind your ear.

“Sandra”, I lied. The Demon shook his head, Sandra lingering on his tongue as he repeated it out loud. “Pretty”, he stated.

I thanked him, nodding my head with pleasure.

“You know, I could show you something really pretty if you want to get out of here”. I stood, holding my hand out to the Demon.

“And what would that be? The Demon smiled. My plan was going so beautifully.

I leaned into him, my mouth close to his ear and whispered “anything you’d like to see, daddy. You knew Dean would be pissed now. Calling another man daddy, even if it was part of a hunt, would light a fire so hot in him he might explode.

The demon stood, taking my hand “dirty little girl, huh? Gonna let me do whatever I want?” He asked, his eyebrow raised a bit.

I nodded, walking him towards the exit. “My place is off limits. My needy boyfriend is there” I stated matter of factly. That would piss Dean off. Once outside the demon led you to his car. A nice Chevy Malibu in a light gray color. Dean would hate it if you laughed to yourself. I felt the demon blade pressed against my leg, kept in a hollister by my ankle.

I sat in the shotgun seat, putting on my seat belt. The demon gripped my thigh, his finger grazing slightly against my core. I didn't react. Although I was playing confident, I had no intention of actually doing anything with anyone other than Dean. We had been dating for about six months now, and the sex was the best thing I have ever experienced.

Behind us, two bright headlights shine. I recognized the headlights of the Impala easily. Mostly because they were blinding and Dean refused to drive without his brights on. I felt safe knowing the boys were only a few cars down from me.

In the Impala, Dean gripped the steering wheel. His teeth were grinding, his jaw clenched. Sam looked over laughing, “Dean, you gotta chill. She's just doing what we told her”.

“This was yall’s fuckin’ plan. I had no part in this shit, Sammy.” Dean's words came out like daggers, digging into anyone around him.

After about fifteen minutes of driving, I turned onto a dirt road. It was dark and we drove until we reached a run down house. The windows were boarded up and no one else was around for miles. I no longer saw the headlight behind me and I was tarting to wonder if Dean had been right.

In the ear, I heard Dean “Y/N, we're right behind you but can't see you right now. Say something so we know you're safe”. I felt relief at the sound of his voice.

“So, what do you have in mind?” I mumbled.

“Aw, getting shy now? Don’t worry, we’re gonna have such a fun night. Wont want to ever go back to that little boyfriend of yours.” The demon opened his side door and you followed, stepping on the muddy ground outside. The demon took my hand, walking you up the front steps of the house. It was pitch black inside before he turned on a single light. A couch sat in the living room with a pretty nice TV. It was probably the only real nice thing in the whole room.

The demon led me inside, sitting me on the couch. It was dusty and I really didn't want to touch it. In another room I heard clashing and a few mumbles. “Stay here for a second,” he said harshly as he walked to the door. When he opened it for more demons to come out, all looking in my direction.

“Brought us a treat?” One of them asked. His eyes were jet black.

“It’s getting really hot in here.” It was your code red phrase. One that the boy was recognized as dangerous. I stayed still, watching the demons approach me.

In a few short seconds, the front door swung open. “Sorry to crash your little party,” Dean yelled across the room. The boys gripped shining white blades in their hands. Sam stabbed the closest one next to me, sending him into flames. That was my chance to rise, pulling the hem of my jeans up and grabbing the blade from my ankle. As I bent down a demon wearing a woman with long red hair, grabbed me and shoved me to the ground. I landed hard, scraping the side of my face. A small gash ran red blood down to my eye. Now I was pissed. I threw my knife as I pulled myself up, landing it hard in her stomach.

I smiled. “That was so cool” I finally spoke out. Dean did crack a subtle smile at that. He wasn't soulless, that was good. The three of us were able to take down all the demons except one. We had questions we needed answered.

“What are yall' doing here? Who Sent you?’ Sam yelled as he pressed the demon against the wall.

“Wouldn't you and your pretty bitch like to know?” The demon smiled. “She was all over me by the way, might want to get that slut on a leash.” The demon hissed at me.

I laughed and saw Dean’s grip around the knife. “You shut the fuck up or I’m gonna make this real, real slow.” Dean shouted.

“Answer the question!” Sam spit.

The demon laughed again, his eyes black as night. That was the last straw for Sammy, and he shoved the knife deep in his back.

“Sam, what the hell? We needed answers! Now we have nothing.” I scolded him.

“I’m sorry but I wasn't listening to that shit anymore.” Sam dropped the demon to the ground and picked up his blaze.

The three of us walked out of the house. Both boys were fuming. “Get in. Now,” Dean demanded and opened the back door. Great, now I have to deal with silence and mean looks all the way home.

This was a few hours ago now. Sam had fallen asleep a bit ago and Dean played Led Zeppelin low on the speakers. We hadn't taken a single break from driving and my back was aching from sitting upright. I undid my seat belt and laid my back flat against the cold leather. I brought my knees up, bent in an upright position.

“Get your shoes off my seat.” The first words Dean had spoken in an hour. I shot him a look in the mirror. Instead of doing what he asked, I dug my shoes in harder, pressing into the leather fabric. I heard Dean huff and mumble something under his breath. He shot me a look this time. "I'm serious y/n, you're gonna fuckin' get it when we get back home". I smiled at the thought and continued to ignore him. After a while longer, I closed my eyes, trying to find a quick rest.

I was woken in the morning by the trunk slamming hard. The sun finally rises through the widows. it took you a moment to remember the events of last night. I knew Dean would be exhausted from driving, probably more pissed now than he was during the hunt. He had all night to stew in his thoughts with no release.

I closed my eyes again. I was exhausted, waking up every few minutes to a bump or dip in the road. The door to the back opened quietly and I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Come on, baby. I got ‘ya” Dean helped me out of the car and hosted my legs around his waist. He grabbed me just under my ass. you wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a small kiss as he carried you through the bunker and into your shared room. He laid you lightly on the bed, taking off your shoes. I lazily raised my hips up as he slid down my jeans, leaving me in a thin pair of black panties. He grabbed me by my wrist, pulling the top half of my body off the bed. He grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head. Next, he unclipped my bra, leaving my chest exposed.

“You know you’re in some deep shit, right y/n?” Dean stood above you, holding my chin in his hand and rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

I swallowed hard. I knew he was playing too nice. “Dean I-” I started to speak but was cut off.

“Shh, no talkin’’. Not ‘til I say so. Gotta lotta makin’ up to do” Dean Pulled me into a rough kiss, his teeth grabbing my bottom lip/ HIs tongue was sloppy and strong, entering my mouth in rough circles. I gasped for air as he pulled away. He looked at me for a second, contemplating what he wanted first. After a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled me on top of him, laying me down flat with my ass in the air. I stayed quiet, waiting for whatever he had planned next.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, and I think daddy needs to teach you a lesson, huh. YOU gonna let daddy teach you what happens when you don't act right?” His hand caressed my ass, grabbing at it hard.

I nodded my head. Following his instructions.

He brought his hand up in the air and swung it down hard. I was shocked he actually spanked. Usually Dean is rough but he never hurt me. Usually his spanks stung slightly, but this time was different. He hit me so hard it was going to leave a bruise. I wondered how bad his hand stung from that. I let out a cry, trying not to make it too loud, Dean laughed “Oh, baby. It's gonna be a long morning. I ain't leaving till i know you've learned better.” He slapped my ass harder and I jumped. “Stay fucking still. Don't make me get mean.” Dean's tone was strong. You had never heard his voice like that before. It hurt bad, but I loved it. I had always had a thing for pain, wanting it as rough as Dean could give me.

I tried to stay as still as possible, but as the hits kept coming, it was getting harder and harder to stay still. I swear Dean was out for blood. My blood. Tears began to fall as he bruised my ass, leaving red stinging markers across each cheek.

“Get up”, he spoke through gritted teeth. “I love you baby, but i’m about to fuck you like I hate you.”

I felt a cold shiver down my spine as Dean forced me down on my knees, opening my mouth under him. He leaned down, spitting in my mouth with great precision. I swallow it, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. I wanted more. I moved my hand to his shorts, and he quickly slapped it away.

“Did I tell you, you could touch?” Dean asked, no hint of emotion other than anger on his face. If he was tired, I couldn't tell. If he was dying to be inside me, I couldn't tell. His eyes only showed red. “Put ‘em behind your back”.

I did as I was told, nodding my head and placing my hands behind me. Dean walked to the closet and searched for a moment. I waited patiently for him to get back. I saw a black tie in his hand. He walked behind me. Pinning my wrist together, he tied the tie tight around them. I couldn't move my hands if I wanted to. Dean walked back in front of me slowly stripping all his clothes. I admired his body, taking note of every scar, every tattoo.

Once he was stripped completely, he stood tall directly in front of me. He pumped his cock a few times. “Open”. He demanded.

I opened my mouth slightly.

“Wider. Don’t play with me y/n or this will get a lot worse.” He grabbed the back of my neck. His grip was loose but stern. His cock was half hard, glistening with precum. Dean tapped it against my lips, moving it around the entrance of my mouth. After some teasing, he finally put the tip in my mouth. I closed my lips around hum, sucking the tip with slight pressure. I felt him getting harder as the seconds passed. His grip on my neck stayed but became firmer. He used it to bob my head back and forth across his cock. Soon my eyes were watering and my face was slick with salvia. Dean went harder, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged and struggled to breathe but his grip was relentless. I felt like I might throw up at any second and I tried my hardest to push him off. Finally Dean, let me free. I choked and fought for air as he let me go.

“Good little slut, takin’ me so good.”Dean only gave me a few seconds before he was wrapping my lips back around him. He tasted like sweat from the earlier fight. It wasn’t gross, just enough for me to taste under my spit. My jaw was starting to hurt. I knew Dean could go on like this forever. In our months of dating, I could never get him to cum just from sucking him off. Believe me, I have tried. After at least twenty more minutes of this, tears were streaming down my face. The back of my throat was for sure bruised. Dean looked like I had hardly done anything and I looked like I just ran a mile.

Dean grabbed my waist and hoisted me up on my feet. He turned me around to face the wall and threw me on the bed. He laid me chest down, bending my knees and positioning my ass in the air. He massaged it lightly and ripped my panties down. His hands went up to my hips, putting me at the best possible angle. I felt him line himself up at my center, his dick entering me swiftly. I knew Dean didn't have time to put on a condom, which was our only form of birth control.

“Dean, you didn't put on anything”

“Yeah, I think I'm just gonna make you a real slut. Cum in this pussy like I deserve to.” He gave me no time to prepare before he started thrusting into me at the fastest pace I had ever experienced. A slight burn went through my body as he hit my cervix over and over. I felt like i was being hit in the stomach.

“D-Dean, please. Slow down, please”. I cried out.

“It’s okay. I know you can take it. Be a good little slut and take daddy’s dick. I know you can. Know you've been cravin’ it for days. That's why I was in such a bad mood, needin’ this pussy to come make me happy again.”

Dean never faltered his thrust. I was practically begging him to stop, but it felt so good I was glad he didn't. He grabbed my hip with one hand as he and began using the other to untie the tie around my wrist. I thought he was taking it off to give me more movement, let me touch him. But, instead of disregarding it, he placed it around my neck. He pulled it tight, making me raise my head off the mattress. He choked me hard and the room started to darken.

“D-daddy t-too much”. My words came out a slurred mess. He let go of the tie, finally throwing it over his shoulder. I swear I was high from him, creating a creamy white mess at the base of his cock.

“Shit, you’re fucking creaming my cock baby. You came already?” Dean sounded proud, cocky. I nodded my head yes and Dean let out a groan.

“Can’t wait to cum in this pussy. Been wanting to for a longtime. Thinking about puttin’ a baby in you, let everyone know this pussy belongs to me.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear. I swear I felt my cunt dripping now.

“It does Dean. I swear. It’s all yours. Take it.” I tried not to scream as he hit my g-spot over and over, just on the edge of cumming again.

He pulled out of me quickly causing a sad moan to escape from my lips. He flipped me on my back, brushing my hair out of my face. He planted soft kisses all over my body before climbing on top of me, placing my legs over his shoulder. I loved him like this. His skin hot, out of breath, wanting to destroy me. It is something I never saw in him before, a primal instinct awakened inside him.

“I heard you call that demon daddy.” He slapped my face, not hard enough to leave any marks. Just enough for me to feel it. “Want to show you who your real daddy is, never let you forget”

A rush hit me again. My legs were shaking and I felt myself clenched down hard around him. Dean pulled his dick out, a thin splash of my cum squirting out. “Fuck, yes. Such a good little bitch. Squirt on daddy's cock. Make a fuckin’ mess on me.” His voice somehow sounded darker. I let out a high-pitched moan as I came, wetness pulling around my pussy.

Dean thrusted back in, showered in my slick. He entered slower this time, giving me a bit of a break. Subtly, he quickened his pace gain, matching his earlier rhythm. I knew Sammy was just down the hall and I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Dean rubbed small circles around my clit, snaking his arm through my legs. the extra motion added more, pushing me over the edge again.

“Daddy, Please. I can't take much more.” I knew my lips would be red and swollen when we were done. I would be feeling this for days.

Dean let out a long groan and threw his head down on my neck. “Fuck, y/n. Never gonna get over how tight this pussy is. God, fuckin’ love it.”

Dean's thrusts started to get sloppy, his body getting heavier on top of me.

“Fuckin’ close baby. Gonna paint this pussy.” Dean sucked in extra air through his teeth. I felt him hit the back of me a few times, slowing before pulling out. He admired his cum spilling out of me, a thick white paste sitting between my folds. Dean used his index finger, scooping it up and placing it back inside me. He fingered before a while longer, till I was pushing hand away and begging him to stop.

Dean used his shirt from earlier to clean my core, whipping away any wetness left behind. He kissed up and down my neck, leaving a few light purple spots. “You okay, y/n? I’m sorry if that was too much, just needed you so bad.”

I kissed him, gently sucking his bottom lip. “No, It was amazing. Gonna flirt with demons more often”.

He laughed “Please, don’t”.

#dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dom deam #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #smut #dean supernatural #dean spn #dean smut

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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

through your eyes + au future

a/n: i had this idea and needed to write it. it's a bit into the future, much past where i currently am, so feel free to skip. i'm still posting the next part later this evening, but i just needed to get this out of my head and figured i'd share lol

*gif courtesy of google*

words: 1.6k // warnings: solana is sad, roman is pissed, and their families ain't shit

taglist: @fearlesschimera @sayyestoheav3nn @annfg8 @cyberdejos2 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @trentybenty @empressdede @tshepisho @southerngirl41 @callmekayd

Solana should have listened to Roman.

Should have known better than to ever think this was a good idea.

To think that they could have both of their families in the same vicinity and everything would go fine. Granted, the type of division she was expecting has been relatively tame. There hasn’t been any violence, largely due and thanks to the weapon deposit bins by the entrance.

Weapon free establishment and all.

Yet, she’s not naive enough to think that the lack of guns, knives, and other unmentionables could stop her or Roman’s family from throwing down if they wanted. But, they haven’t. No punches have been thrown nor bones broken. It’s been more of a clear separation. Roman’s family only interacts with each other, and her family interacts with each other.

Not the kind of cohesion she was hoping for but a much better alternative than what it could be.

But, while conflict and violence between the in-laws has, so far, been avoided. There’s still another major issue that has Solana locked in one of the back rooms, sitting on a random chair, crying her eyes out.

The bullying.

Towards her.

Towards Roman.

Towards their baby.

It started out light, Solana having to politely shut down a near fight between her brother and Roman.

Wes lifted the beer to his lips, eyeing Roman. “So, how many people have you killed today, Reigns?”

“Wesley!” Solana’s sharp use of his name was conjoined with a disapproving expression. He’s too old for the petty jabs.

Roman, however, simply smiled coldly, scratching his beard as he delivered a chilling warning. “So far none, but you keep fucking talking, and I can change that real fast.”

Thankfully, Solana was able to de-escalate, her sister-in-law, Hazel, prying Wes away before any violence could commence.

Then there was the conversation Solana unintentionally walked into while conversing with two of her older cousins she’s not as close with.

For good reasons.

“Aren’t you at all worried?”

Solana frowned. “About?”

Her cousin leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Roman as a dad. I mean, he’s not capable of love. Do you really expect him to be a good father?”

There’s no words to describe how much hearing such a thing about the man she loves hurt Solana. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her other cousin, however, simply rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, everyone knows that man is a sociopath. You’re better off cutting your losses now, taking the kid to Mexico with your mom’s side of the family, and praying he doesn’t turn out like his psycho dad.”

Solana had to excuse herself for that one. She had nothing nice to say in that moment, but beyond that, she just needed to get a few tears out.

And she did, hoping that would be the last of it, but no, that was just too good of a hope to be true.

It was the comments overheard by some of Roman’s relatives, however, that did her in.

“I just can’t believe out of all the women, the respectable options who come from more established families, he chose her.”

The other woman snorted, shaking her head. “Right? It’s obvious she was looking for a sugar daddy. What is she, like 25?”

“I heard her father’s not doing well financially and told her to seek out Roman.”

“Makes sense. Look how easy she was. Didn’t waste any time opening up her legs and trapping him with a baby.” The woman rolled her eyes, adding, “at the very least, he could have found a Samoan woman. It’s bad enough he’s afakasi, but this child of theirs? The girl is Mexican and Black. He’ll hardly have any Samoan blood running through his veins. Our Bloodline could die out because of her.”

The first woman to speak snorted, smirking almost as she suggested, “that’s assuming it’s his baby. Roman’s smart though. I’m sure he’ll have a paternity test done as soon as she pushes out that bastard.”

“Assuming ICE doesn’t deport her first.”

The two women fell out in laughter at the same time Solana darted off, desperate to get away and have a safe space to cry.

It’s all just been too much. Too much hatred spewed for something that should be filled with love and excitement.

It’s been anything but, and it hurts.

It hurts a ton.

The knocking on the door is loud and borderline erratic, Solana quickly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat to inform that she’ll be out in a minute. But, a deep, familiar voice beats her to it.

“Solana.” It’s Roman, and he doesn’t sound happy. “Open the door.”

She blows out a deep breath and does her best to feign a ‘normal’ voice. “Just—just a second.”

“Now, Solana.” Before she can ask why, he adds in a calmer voice,“I know you’re crying.” Damn.

“So you either let me in or I’ll break this goddamn door down.”

He’ll do it. She knows he will. There’s nothing ever stopping Roman from comforting or being there for her when he knows she’s upset.

And this would definitely be one of those times.

Solana sniffles, trying to gather herself as she carefully stands up from the toilet seat. Wiping at her eyes, she flips the lock and is barely able to turn the knob when Roman is opening the door. Stepping back, he closes it behind him and moves his hands to her face, gaze locking with hers.

“What’s wrong?”

So many things, but this isn’t the time or place, so she shakes her head. “N–nothing. I’m just—baby hormones.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, voice still surprisingly gentle. “Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

Solana looks away, hating how just that question, coming from him, tone so understanding and soft almost, is enough to pull the truth out of her.

And it does.

“You were right. This was a bad idea. I should have never—” She stops herself, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just wanted…..I thought….I thought they’d be happy for us.”

“Sol, you know it’s not that simple.” Though his words could be seen as insensitive, the way he says it is anything but. “Who said what?”

She closes her eyes, grasping onto his white button-up shirt. “It wasn’t just…..one person….it’s everybody.” He wipes at her tears, as she continues to feel the emotional weight of it all. “My family saying cruel things about you—”

“Sola—”

“Your family saying things about me, about our baby—”

At that, all gentleness drops and is replaced with something else. Something she knows Roman knows well.

Anger.

“Who?” It’s one word. One single word that means a multitude of things and none of them good.

Solana shifts her weight, shrugging, “I—I don’t know who they are. Some….some cousins of yours. But, it doesn’t—it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does fucking matter.” Roman drops his hands from her face to instead take her right hand in his, holding it firmly. “And we gonna address this shit right now.”

Solana's eyes widen a bit. That’s….that’s not what she wanted. “Wait, Roman—”

He’s not listening though. His stride is purposeful and determined, as he leads them out the bathroom, down the hall, and into the main section of the venue where most of their families are gathered.

Roman guides them over to where the DJ has his setup, Solana gasping as Roman uses his free hand to yank a set of chords out the wall, effectively stopping the music.

The DJ looks just as confused as most of the guests but cowers away in fear when Roman ‘iffs’ at him, like he’s going to hit him, before snatching the microphone.

The abrupt ending of the music has attracted most gazes to where Roman and Solana stand, him moving them to the middle where all can see and hear.

He never once releases her hand.

“Imma say this one time, and one time only.” She swallows, her eyes landing on her parents. Her mom looks confused, while her dad wears the same expression he’s worn since the moment Solana finally came clean about her relationship with Roman.

Disappointed.

“Cause if I have to address this shit again, it’s not gonna be verbally.” Chills move up and down her spine. There’s not an ounce of her that questions if he’s bluffing or not. Roman doesn’t bluff. If he says it, he means it. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me. That includes her family and mine, but I’ll be damned if I let any of ya’ll disrespect her or our child.” Solana’s hand naturally moves to her belly, her bump that’s pronounced and especially visible in her white bodycon dress. “We’re together. We’re having a baby. However way any of you feel about it, keep it to your fucking selves, because there’s no reason Solana should be crying at something that’s supposed to be a happy occasion.”

She swallows, noticing how the entire room has gone silent under the deep voice of Roman’s address. There’s not a person who looks uninterested or annoyed. It’s just a sea of various scared and nervous expressions.

“So, the next time you find yourselves talking shit about her, and especially our baby, understand it will absolutely be the last thing you ever fucking do.” Solana watches Roman begin to hand the microphone to the flabbergasted DJ before he snatches it back, turning once again toward the onlookers. “And one more thing……when you address her, make sure you do it properly.”

Solana’s throat goes dry. She shakes her head. He can’t be doing what she thinks he’s about to do. “Roman—”

“It’s not Solana Miller.” Oh my God. “It’s Solana Reigns.”

The sea of silence quickly morphs into an ocean of various gasps, exclamations, and even shouts.

Meanwhile, Roman simply smirks as he sticks the nail in the coffin before dropping the mic on the ground. “—we’re married.”

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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