#Vehicle Wraps in new york city | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phfenomena · 11 months ago

Text

❝i think there’s been a glitch.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request - glitch by taylor swift would be so perfect for tom

| A/N - 1989 aesthetic with a midnights song?? let me cook. just let me cook. 1989 is both beach and city so you know i’m grilling up some shit that will have you kicking your feet.

(divider by @dvluc)

the sun was boiling every inch residing below it, and you were included. rachel, being the saint she is, conjured up the idea of having a beach day while you were all still in L.A.

the car was full of laughter and loud music. you had rented a jeep and were more than happy to take the top off. you were never able to drive a convertible in new york, it always rains. the wind was whipping your hair all around the air but you found it hard to care. you were driving while tom had called shotgun and fought josh for it. he was fiddling with the volume and bass while rachel was trying to convince josh to not stand up and stick his head out of the vehicle.

"i vote that josh stands up and gets his head chopped off, final destination style." you yelled over the wind and music. josh nods at rachel and she covers her face turning away from him. he begrudgingly stayed in his seat as you were trying to convince tom to stand up.

"it'll be fun! i can't do it, i'm driving. let me live vicariously through you." the music had been turned down and tom was smiling and shaking his head at you.

you were all racing down to the beach, josh obviously winning. as everyone was accusing him of cheating because he got a head start, tom took his shirt off. you fell silent as he was walking to the water and you suddenly felt as if the sun was hugging the earth. you slowly pulled your dress over your head and trailed behind of josh and rachel, still arguing over how josh cheated.

the ocean was cold and it cooled the heat in your cheeks instantly. you spun around looking for tom but couldn't see him above water, suddenly you felt a hand wrap around your ankle and you were engulfed by the water.

you came back to the surface coughing and yearning for revenge while tom was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "what if i drowned and died? you wouldn't be laughing very hard then."

we were supposed to be just friends. you don't live in my part of town, but maybe i'll see you out some weekend.

the bass was shaking the ground and the lights were almost disorientating. your friends had managed to pull you out to a club in brooklyn. the pregame shots already kicking in as you felt yourself loosening up and your friend pulled you toward the sea of bodies. some overly-produced pop song was flowing out of the loud speakers as your body collided with the surrounding people.

a hand was placed on your waist and you whipped around to see who was violating you. you met the eyes of your offender and smiled. "tom! i haven't seen you in weeks! how was berlin?" you scream over the music and he pulls you in for a hug, leading you away from the people. you blow a kiss to your friend but they don't even notice you leaving.

your feet swung as you were sitting in a barstool next to tom, chatting about what he's been up to. "yeah, we're finally done with all the promos and interviews." you're nursing your third drink of the night, mixed with your previous shots, your blood alcohol level was too high. "that's so cool! i knew rachel and josh were back but i didn't know you were back in brooklyn." he smiles and nods. "what're you doing in brooklyn anyway? don't you live an hour away?" he asks and you laugh. "my friends really wanted to go here and they yanked me out of bed."

depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship i'm in, and whats in my system.

you answer your buzzing phone and greet rachel, asking if you'd like to go out to dinner with them. "yeah, i'd love to! i'm with paul right now, is it alright if he comes along?" paul was your latest kind-of-boyfriend that you'd met at an award show.

paul and josh were conversing about star wars while you were talking with some of the other girls before rachel tapped your arm. you turned your head to her and she asked quietly "so are you guys dating? meeting your friends is a pretty big step.". you shot an unamused look at her and shook your head. "no, he said that he doesn't want anything serious. i honestly have zero clue if he even likes me, he's really weird about talking about it. but i don't even wanna date him." you whispered back, your attention pulled from her to tom who just sat down and was greeting everyone.

"hey, i'm tom." he extended his hand for paul to shake and you grew nervous. you see paul point at you and tom turns his head and smiles at you, you manage a tight-lipped smile back and lean your head on rachel's shoulder. "this is actually horrible, i wish you said to not bring him." you confess to her as she tilts her head towards yours. "why? he seems nice. he's getting along with everyone." you lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows. "i think he told tom he came with me. and i've literally had a small crush on tom since you introduced us." you whisper quickly to her and her mouth falls open. she smiles mischievously at you and calls tom over.

"do you think we could switch seats? i really want to sit with josh." he nods and takes her seat. he turns to you and you stare straight a head, trying to ignore the abundance of butterflies inhabiting your stomach. you hear your name fall from his lips and you finally turn to face him. "paul seems nice, i'm really happy for you," you try your hardest to not slip under the table in dispair but you end up offering your thanks and talking about your recent work.

i think there's been a glitch. five seconds later i'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, and i'm not even sorry.

your three friends had one last premiere in california, and you were coincidentally filming for your latest show in hollywood. your arm was wrapped around tom's as you were posing for the press, the blinding flashing of the cameras leaving dark spots in your vision. tom's hand rubbed circles on your lower back as you smiled for the pictures and quickly exited the carpet.

you took a deep breath and sat down next to rachel. "thanks for coming with me." tom whispered in your ear and you smiled at him. "of course, i'd do anything you asked me to." you internally punch yourself and turn your attention back to the screen.

you hadn't left toms side the entire night until you were back at his hotel room and you learned you were staying in the same hotel. he offered a glass of wine to you as you both sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. "yeah, paul and i didn't last very long, he had no personality it was so hard trying to talk to him." tom laughs and his head leans against his shoulder. "i was wondering about that, i just thought you liked really bland guys."

i was supposed to sweat you out. in search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground. i think there's been a glitch.

a comfortable layer of silence laid on top of you both as the air was filled with the quiet sound of taylor swift. "i really like hanging out with you." you whisper and set your phone down. tom raises his eyebrows and stutters out "oh,um, t-thank you. i also really like hanging out with you. it always feels really easy." you smile and focus your eyes on a patch of carpet below you. "do you have a girlfriend, tom?" he shakes his head slowly, watching your every move.

"then, would you mind if i kissed you? it's totally okay if you say no, why did i even ask that? that was really-" your ranting had been cut short by tom linking your lips together. "jus' stop talking." he muttered against your lips, you turned your body towards his and felt yourself slowly getting lowered onto the ground. you definitely spilled wine on the carpet but that all seemed so irrelevant now.

nights are so starry, blood moonlit. it must be counterfeit.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth fluff #coriolanus snow #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x you #tom blyth x reader fluff #coriolanus fanfiction #william bonney smut #william bonney fluff #william bonney x reader #william bonney

490 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 8 months ago

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write a one shot for finn wolfhard? maybe like a date night or something but take your own route!

oooo fuck yeah of course!! ; I hate writing standard dinner dates (esp bc I've never been on a date before but we ain't gonna talk about that) so I hope you enjoy this! ; thanks for requesting :) ; also I'm so sorry this is so short, writers block kicked my ass on this :(

FINN WOLFHARD ; city boy

summary ; a little date in the city with Finn

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I don't know shit about living in a city lol

track ; city boy ; calpurnia

word count ; 551

masterlist

"Jay-Z or Fleetwood Mac?" You ask, hanging Finn an earbud as you scroll through one of your playlists.

"Uh, Jay-Z" He nods, inserting the little device into his ear, making sure as he walked on your left side, that it went in his left ear, pairing with the earbud that you had in your right ear. "Now you're in New York~." He smiles, purposefully singing badly to play with you.

"Shush!" You laugh, taking his hand in yours.

When it came to dates with you two, anything but dinner was up for discussion. You both hated classy dates, you'd rather go do something fun and live your lives while you could.

You were walking down the streets towards one of the many bridges in the city, wanting to walk on one of the lower levels and experience the wind of the cars passing by punching your backs and being able to smell the water below.

The noise of the metal pittering underneath your feet was unintelligible, being defeaned by the whizzing of passing vehicles. The breeze brushes against your faces, pushing your hair back as you look over the railing, arms crossed over the ledge to get a bit of a better position to look down.

The water has a sort of quiet white noise to it, washing and running below the bridge. The tide pushes toward you, the large ripples, almost waves, stagger their way down the surface of the water, carrying the boats and canoes with them.

"This is nice" Finn says quietly, taking a glance at you to see your expression, trying to read you.

You nod in agreement, looking down at the water, feeling cars whizz past you above and behind you.

"You look nice today" He smiles, catching your gaze. "Really makes your eyes pop"

You lightly smile and roll your eyes. "Such a romantic, Finn"

"Yeah, I know"

"You wanna go down there?" You ask, pointing down at one of the boat piers.

He shrugs, "Yeah, sure"

You walk all the way back off the bridge, then make your way down the streets and across the other bridge to get you down to the docks. Near those docks was a huge fountain that you both liked to be misted with water by.

The walk down is calm and peaceful, hands tied with Blue Foundation playing in your earbuds. The breeze sends chills down your spine, causing him to feel the quick here-and-gone tenseness within the grip of your hand. His curls reveal his face as the wind pushes them back, nearly taking his jacket with it before he zipped it up.

The sun produces enough heat for a moment of warmth before it's back to chills, clouds filling the sky and hiding the firey ball of flame periodically. He pulls you a little closer, seeking your body warmth, considering you'd been wrapped up in jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a heavy hoodie.

You look over at him, an eyebrow raised at his actions, your pace slowing down a bit for him.

"I'm cold, shut up." He smiles, resting his arm around your waist, your shoulders brushing every few steps. "You're warm"

"I'm hot, actually"

"Yeah, yeah. You are hot." He giggles, placing a light kiss on your temple.

"Mhm, say it again"

"You're hot"

#lowkeyrobin #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader #actor x reader

145 notes · View notes

foliosriot · 1 year ago

Text

Am I Fuckable?

my gif, please give credit if you use it. thank you!

pairing: vinny mauro x reader

warnings: lots of teasing. vinny being an annoying fuck (affectionate). unprotected p in v sex. hair pulling. vocal vinny for the win!! lots of love bites and hickeys. if i missed anything please let me know! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

a/n: this is heavily inspired and based on Photoshoot BTS 2019 from ricky’s youtube channel hehe

tags: @concretenoah @circle-with-me @smokeynaomi @popppylove @somebodyels3 @rottingfern @monotoniscreaming @bngurngheart @agravemisstake

New York City is insane.

Simply trying to find a parking spot in the middle of the night is difficult, and that alone is reason enough for you to never move here.

Ryan had been driving around the same couple blocks for what felt like hours searching for somewhere to park. You could hear AJ talking to, what you assume is, Ricky and his video camera. However you can’t tell what’s being said, everyone’s voices having melded together in your brain a long while ago.

You have your head resting on Vinny’s shoulder, the same position you’ve been in long before arriving in NYC. You had been attempting to sleep, and was successful at one point! Then the frustration and exhaustion permeating throughout the van was stifling and forced you awake.

The only place you know you’ll be able to properly fall asleep is the hotel bed that’s waiting for you.

It feels like an eternity before Vinny moves his hand from your thigh to your hand that had been resting limply in your lap. His fingers slot between yours, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, mama.” His voice is quiet in your ear. “We we can go up to the hotel now. Come on.”

You groan into Vinny’s shoulder but lift your head anyways. The interior lights of the van are on, and everyone is filing out. Vinny gives you a loving smile as he hops out as well, then turns to take your hand. You graciously but tiredly accept and allow him to help you exit the van to get your bags from the trunk.

With bags in hand and the vehicle locked, Ryan leads everyone back towards the parking garage entrance. You’re holding onto Vinny’s hand and attempting to lean your head on his shoulder once more as you walk. It’s proving to be a bit difficult, but you manage just well enough as you walk inside the hotel.

Your friends go a different direction as you, Vinny, and Ricky walk another way. You struggle to move your legs as exhaustion is settling into your limbs. But then Ricky’s unlocking one of the room doors and leading you and Vinny in.

Once in the hotel room, you blearily watch Ricky set his bags down before heading to the bathroom. While he’s in there Vinny helps you get undressed and into your pajamas, which consists of one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings. The feeling of his warm hands against your skin is making you even sleepier.

He’s got you situated under the covers and your pillow is so soft and you’re just so tired…

What seems like only a second later Vinny is sliding in to bed next to you. In your half awake state you inch closer to him until he’s curling one of his arms around your body and pulling you into his chest. With your face buried in his neck you comfortably fall asleep.

In the morning, you’re rudely awoken by Vinny jostling around. Without opening your eyes you can tell he’s trying to get out of bed, but you still have your body wrapped around him, much like a koala bear.

“Baby, baby.” You feel Vinny’s hand running up and down your back. “You gotta let go of me so we can get ready.”

You mumble a bout of nonsense without releasing him from your grip. He chuckles softly. Then he’s kissing your head and proceeds to gently pry you off of him. You grumble and groan as your hands and arms are dislodged from your boyfriend, thus freeing him from the bed and you.

Vinny maneuvers you back in to a comfy position, and plants a trio of light kisses to your cheek.

“You can sleep for a few more minutes,” he murmurs in your ear. “Then you gotta get up, okay, babe?”

His voice is gentle as he talks to you, but you don’t want to listen to him. You want to stay in bed all day with him and cuddle until you’re set to leave New York. But you know you’ll have to get up eventually. So you grunt in response and listen to Vinny make his way to the bathroom.

A couple minutes later the hotel door opens and you lift your head at the smell of coffee. Ricky enters your line of sight and you see that he holds a tray of various drinks. He smiles when he notices you peeking out of the covers.

“Morning. Vin told me your order,” Ricky tells you as he approaches the bedside. He takes one of the drinks from the tray and holds it out for you. He waits until you’re shoving yourself out of the hotel blankets, and you go to take it from him.

“Thank you, Rick,” you say in a sleepy voice.

You go to take a sip of the drink he got. And as soon as the liquid meets your tongue you sigh in satisfaction. Vinny knew exactly what you would have wanted, and that has your heart swelling. You continue to drink the beverage as you watch Ricky set his and Vinny’s drinks down and go to pick up his camera. He does a quick little update while walking around the hotel room, appearing to be mindful to keep you out of shot because he knows you don’t like being on camera all that much.

Once you’ve downed most of your drink you decide it’s probably time for you to get ready. With the remainder of your drink on the nightstand and your feet on the floor, you gather the clothes you’ll need for the day and your toiletries before knocking on the bathroom door. You find it unlocked and go in.

From behind the shower curtain Vinny calls out your name.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you answer back, setting down your things on the countertop and on the lid of the toilet. “Hope it’s okay if I’m in here getting ready.”

“Totally okay, babe,” Vinny replies over the sound of the water. “Almost done anyways.”

You pay no mind to his words whilst changing out of your pajamas, letting them settle in a pool of fabric off to the side on the tile. You’re slipping on a fresh pair of undergarments just as the shower water turns off. Then the curtain is pushed open and you watch Vinny step out through the condensation that’s accumulated on the surface of the mirror. He pauses when he sees you standing there. Then he’s stepping up behind you, the heat of his body radiating at your back. The smell of his shampoo is suddenly overwhelming. And his hands are resting tentatively on your hips.

The small space is steadily growing more and more suffocating. Your stomach is tightening at the feeling of Vinny’s hands on your skin, now firmly holding onto you. The buzzing hum of the fan is the only sound, and it has your head spinning. Or it’s because Vinny is now pressed up right against you.

“Vin.”

There's a slight warning in your voice, but you’re quiet when you say it. You can feel Vinny’s breath on your shoulder and neck. You then meet his gaze through the mirror’s fog. His eyes are dark and there is a very specific emotion nestled in their depths that ignites a dull fire deep down in your gut.

“Vinny.”

This time, you force your voice to be firmer. Your heart is racing, your ears are ringing, and you can feel slivers of water running down your backside from wherever Vinny’s own body has made contact with yours. He blinks slowly, humming his acknowledgement.

“You need to dry off,” you remind him, your voice undoubtedly wavering.

Vinny doesn’t say anything. All he does is lean in and presses his lips to you, his breath scalding hot against your bare skin. Neither of you speak while he’s leaving prolonged, open-mouthed kisses from one shoulder to the base of your neck, and then all the way across to the other shoulder.

With each touch of his lips a wave of goosebumps flutters down your body. Your spine is tingling and you’re struggling to repress a shudder. Vinny’s hands are ascending slowly, his fingers grazing roughly along your stomach and ribcage.

You aren’t quite sure what’s gotten into him, but you’re enjoying it. He nips gently at your flesh and it has you leaning your head back.

At one particular spot on your shoulder, Vinny takes his time. He’s gnawing and sucking at your skin. His tongue meets the hickey before he’s biting at it, and you’re seeing stars.

But then he’s pulling away. The warmth of his body suddenly disappears, and your head is forced back up. You whip around to see Vinny casually drying himself off, to which he proceeds to wrap the towel around his frame and then exits the bathroom with a soft click of the door.

And now, you are incredibly confused while simultaneously craving Vinny’s touch once more.

What the fuck was that for?

With confusion encasing your veins, you manage to finish getting ready in the confines of the tiny bathroom. Your breathing is slightly labored and you have been muttering to yourself for the past few minutes, cursing Vinny’s name.

When you’re done in the bathroom, you gather your things and walk out into the room. Sitting down on the bed you’re sharing with Vinny you pull on your shoes and throw your hair up with the hair-tie on your wrist, then proceed to scroll through your phone.

Ricky has his camera out and you’re only half listening to the conversation at hand. You had seen Vinny fiddling with the buttons of the suit jacket he had on, but you rightfully ignored him.

“Are you not supposed to button the top one or the bottom one?” Vinny asks.

“Uh, I don’t think you’re supposed to button the bottom one,” Ricky answers him hesitantly.

Vinny continues messing with his suit as he faces the large mirror on the opposite side of the room, the one hanging on the wall behind you. You look up from your phone to see him looking at himself in the mirror, then turning your attention back to the screen with an inaudible scoff.

“Dang, I’m fuckin’ hot,” he says. And it’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to glance back up at him.

God, you have no idea, you asshole.

You bite down on your tongue, and say nothing.

“What do you think, camera? Am I fuckable?” You’re beginning to taste copper on your tastebuds. “I think I’m not.”

Vinny laughs softly, and it has your pulse thumping even harder. You barely hear his exchange with Ricky because the blood roaring in your ears is far too loud.

He steps past you and gives you a sweet smile. You aren’t able to properly process the gesture until he’s already out of sight.

You’re hoping Ricky doesn’t notice how your demeanor has changed now that Vinny isn’t present. You can feel your face reddening with blush, and you know your overall vibe has shifted. If Ricky does notice, that’s a disaster just waiting to happen.

Once Vinny is done in the bathroom, after having changed his clothes, the three of you gather all of your things before leaving the room. You were the one to grab the keycards so you hung back to stuff them into your bag while Ricky and Vinny headed towards the elevators.

And with this moment to yourself you take a very deep, grounding breath. Then you’re walking away from your little bubble of quiet, trying to ignore the simmering heat at the base of your stomach.

Vinny is talking to the camera when you walk up. You choose to remain at Ricky’s back.

“We’re about to go to the photography studio.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You watch Ricky walk in backwards as he keeps the camera on Vinny. You hesitate before stepping in. “And wait a really long time to get our pictures taken. And then once our pictures are taken, they’ll be added to publications, posters, tour ad, MADS. Just anything you can think of.”

Through the floor to ceiling mirrors of the elevator you can clearly see Vinny smile at the camera just as the doors are opening. Vinny reaches back to grab your hand and pull you after him, with Ricky following close behind.

Ryan, Justin, and AJ are waiting for you when you step out of the hotel proper. Their voices bounce off the concrete walls of the parking garage and accumulate just to harshly harmonize in your ears. You grind your teeth as everyone finally gets in to the van.

In the van you choose to sit beside Ricky in the second row, leaving Vinny and Justin alone in the back. Vinny had pouted when he saw you slide into the seat next to Ricky, but thankfully hadn’t said anything. You’re not sure what you would have done if he had, indeed, said something.

Ryan is pulling out of the parking garage and AJ is addressing the camera in Ricky’s hands; meanwhile, Vinny has shifted forward in his seat to press a kiss to your head. It has your potent anxiety easing its death grip on your heart. Until he’s pressing another kiss to the exposed skin just behind your ear. Your anxiety immediately spikes as he rests his head to the back of your skull for a few more moments.

“I love you,” he murmurs. With one more kiss to that exposed skin he finally leans back in his seat.

You mumble the three words back to him, though you know he couldn’t hear. You loose a light sigh and internally prepare for a long day.

Because of your position as Motionless In White’s MUA, the only reason you came on this trip was to help with makeup. Well, that, and because Vinny wanted you to come with so badly.

So, having arrived at the photography studio, you began setting up the things you would need at one of the vanities provided.

And you know the guys would have been just fine doing their own makeup without you there. However, Vinny is ever persistent and slightly annoying when it comes to these things. So you had agreed to come with, despite having told Chris it wouldn’t be a big deal if you couldn’t tag along.

But Chris being Chris, he had been more than happy to have you be there.

Yay.

Now, here you are, helping Ryan with his makeup as you watch Vinny and Ricky mess around with Ricky’s camera. You keep them in your periphery as to not get distracted and mess up what you’re doing. But that duo is severely distracting, and you nearly mess up what your current task when you catch yourself watching Vinny for a moment too long.

(Actually, it was Ryan asking if you were okay, thus snapping you out of your daze.)

As you’re finishing up helping Ryan, Vinny waltzes over to you. He casually grabs at your waist when he halts beside you. You’re surprised you don’t implode at the contact.

“Okay, you’re all good to go,” you rush out to Ryan.

Ryan gives you a small smile. “Thanks,” he says as he looks into the vanity’s mirror. “You always make me look so much cooler than I actually am.”

“Pfft, shut the fuck up, you’re always cool,” you tell him, as you’re desperately trying to ignore Vinny’s presence.

Ryan thanks you again whilst getting up from the seat you’d had him sitting in, and he walks over to where Chris is currently getting his photos taken. Which leaves you alone with Vinny for the time being. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and it’s causing your head to spin like a top.

Vinny pulls you closer to him, until you’re falling into his chest. He has himself propped up against the vanity and had simply tugged you towards him until gravity took over, and had you almost toppling over onto him. But the arm now around your waist is tight and firm as he keeps his hold on you.

“Hi,” he greets you in a soft voice.

“Hi,” you say back, and you hate how breathless you sound.

“You okay?” he asks. He takes his free hand and plays with a piece of hair that had come loose. His fingers keep brushing your heated cheek, and you are almost at your limit.

You don’t respond right away. Instead, you flick your gaze all over Vinny’s face for a few moments, just taking in his features and the makeup that is painting his skin. That burning hot knot is sizzling in your stomach, and sinking lower and lower as the seconds go by. It’s honestly remarkable you haven’t dragged Vinny off to a secluded corner yet.

You breathe in deeply.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell him.

Vinny locks eyes with you and smiles softly; you’re sure you could even call it innocent with the way his eyes are crinkling just slightly.

“Just wanted to make sure,” he says.

Someone calls his name and you both know it’s his turn to get his individual photos taken. He leans in to kiss you, and you think you may be hallucinating when you feel his tongue shoving its way into your mouth.

But you don’t have time to process that before he’s stepping away and heading over to the photographer. You’re left even more confused than this morning. And you definitely do not like whatever game Vinny is playing.

Now that you have nothing to do, you step off to the side and watch Vinny get his photos done, despite the anger and frustration rippling through you. Seeing him be so nonchalant and unbothered has your blood boiling and your head pounding.

“Yeah, fuckable, my ass,” you mutter under your breath.

“Sorry, what?”

“Holy shit!”

The jumpscare’s origin comes from your right, to which you turn and see Chris looking at you. He has a concerned look on his face, despite the bemused quirk of his lips, and almost seems sheepish as you brace a hand on your chest. Your heart is racing from beneath your palm as you face him. With your other hand you swat at him.

“Don’t fucking do that, Chris!” you scold him. “You could’ve given me a heart attack, you dick.”

Chris chuckles. “Jesus, sorry,” he says through the small smile he wears. “I won’t do it again.”

You roll your eyes. You know he’ll do it again.

“Okay, but I’m curious now. What were you talking to yourself about that had you saying ‘fuckable, my ass’?” he asks. “And don’t say nothing.”

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms to hang limply at your sides. You glance over at Vinny for only a moment. But Chris is not very discreet as he follows your gaze.

“Ohhhh,” he muses. He looks back at you. “Yeah, that’ll do it, I’m sure.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter as you whack Chris in the chest once more. “He’s an asshole. And it would make me feel better if you just agreed with me.”

Chris gives you a small smile. “Oh, yeah, of course. Vinny is an asshole for reasons unknown.”

“I hate you.”

The smile on Chris’ face grows as he says, “Love you too.”

You glare up at him before he walks away. You’re beginning to nibble on your lip when you see him approach Ricky, and the two men immediately fall in to conversation.

But they’re both glancing over at you from time to time. And your blood is uncomfortably hot.

Throughout the rest of the time you’re at the photography studio you keep to yourself. Vinny is still pissing you off and seems to have noticed your mood. And whether or not he knows he is the sole cause and primary aggravator, well, that is still up for debate. He hasn’t tried to touch you or talk to you since you had finished Ryan’s makeup, however long ago that was. But it’s honestly quite alright; if Vinny had tried to even step towards you, you probably would have done something you’d regret in the end.

Once the photoshoot is complete, you begin packing up your things as everyone else changes and removes their makeup. The studio staff are taking down the lights and the backdrop the band had been posed in front of. You tune out all the noise as you continue putting all of your makeup supplies back into your bag, hoping you can finish your task without anyone acknowledging you.

But god forbid you have any peace.

Justin comes up to you, his face clean and wearing his normal attire. The sight of him does, however, release a minute amount of tension from your chest.

“Hey, we’re gonna head to a bar for some drinks and food,” he informs you. “You wanna come with? It’s, like, a block from the hotel so you could leave whenever you want.”

You could not be any more thankful for Justin than you are in this present moment. He is unknowingly giving you an out so you could rot alone in the hotel room until everyone gets back from the bar. You could fucking kiss him right now.

You’re about to give Justin your answer when Vinny sidles up next to you. He immediately throws an arm around your torso, and he slips his hand beneath your shirt before he is subtly digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip. Your pulse is positively erratic at the contact; it would be a miracle if Vinny couldn’t hear your heartbeat.

“You comin’ out with us?” he asks you as he shoots Justin a glance. You watch Justin scowl at Vinny for a split second before they’re both looking at you.

And the way Vinny is staring at you has you burning all over.

His soft brown eyes are tracing your features, but there is a heat to them that you have seen countless times today alone. The blood coursing through your veins no longer feels like a raging, untamable fire. Instead, it burns like an acid eating away at your nervous system and sheer will. And god fucking dammit, you can’t say no to Vinny.

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll go,” you tell the two men. You look back at Justin. “I’ll go for a couple hours, I guess.”

“Awesome. Let’s go,” Vinny says with a smile.

Justin turns and walks away, thus abandoning you in your time of need. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You need Vinny to back away, or you’re going to burst into flames.

Vinny pecks your cheek but his lips linger on your skin. He squeezes your side, and you can feel the gentle stroke of his thumb on your hip bone. His mouth shifts to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. No, instead of kissing you, he just lets his lips rest against your own. You’re dizzy as you breathe him in and your eyes have slipped closed and you need him so badly—

“Mama,” Vinny breathes into your mouth. “We gotta go.”

He’s moving back before you find the strength to speak. But he’s already pulling away when you manage to blink away the haze over your eyes. Frustration encases your heart and mind when he sticks out his hand, wordlessly asking you to take it and follow him. Well, good thing you would follow him to the ends of the earth, or else you would be feeling very differently right now. You say nothing as you thread your fingers through his, letting him lead you out of the studio.

On the drive back in the direction of the hotel, you were able to convince AJ to let you have shotgun, so he could be stuck in the back and you could theoretically be miles away from Vinny. You were quiet as Ryan drove, once again blocking out the conversation in the van and watching New York pass by in a blur.

Ryan parks back in the hotel’s parking garage. Everyone hops out and then makes their outside in the direction of the bar. Vinny hurries to your side to hold your hand, and doesn’t try anything on the short walk. It honestly has you infuriated.

The bar is small and cozy. It’s got a comforting rustic vibe to it, and there are already a handful patrons scattered around. There’s a few sitting at the bar itself and a couple others seated at the tables throughout the space. You notice that no one is over at the pool table playing a game. You almost walk over there before Vinny is detaching himself from you just to do the same with AJ, Justin, and Chris.

Grumbling under your breath you step towards the bar instead. You sit down on one of the stools and patiently wait for the bartender. The music playing through a series of speakers is distracting you, at least.

The bartender, a large man with a short bushy beard and tattoos crawling up his exposed neck and arms, approaches you. He has a kind smile on his face as he stands in front of you on the other side of the counter.

��Evenin’. What can I get for ya, darlin’?” he asks, a slight twang to his voice. There’s a kind gleam in his eyes as he watches you.

You hesitate for a moment before you say, “Gin and coke, please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

He steps away to make your drink, and your eyes immediately trail back to the pool table on the opposite end of the room. Vinny is clearly taking his turn in the game happening right now. He’s bent over the table with the pool cue angled at one of the scattered balls atop the green felt. Then he jerks his arm and the white ball strikes into a cluster of solids and stripes. You hear him groan in frustration.

His hair bounces on his shoulders as he steps back for the next person’s turn. There’s still that ache all the way down in your center, and you cannot possibly stand it any longer. You slot your tongue between your teeth and bite down as hard as you can.

Just then, the bartender walks back over to you and sets down your gin and coke on the wooden surface of the bar with a napkin beneath it.

“There you go, darlin’,” he says.

“God, thank you so much,” you tell him with a slight smile. You reach into your bag and hand him your card.

The man takes your card to pay for your drink and you’re left alone once more. You sip at your beverage, relishing in the feeling of the alcohol on your tastebuds. You’re wanting to get some sleep tonight so you are only planning on the one drink, so you’re going to savor the taste.

But then your card is back with you and your eyes are darting around the bar. And there is Vinny, that motherfucker. It doesn’t seem to be his turn yet, so he’s leaning up against the wall and watching Justin play. Vinny’s face lights up when he smiles at his friend’s obvious failure. His laugh carries across the room, the sound ten times louder than the music to your ringing ears.

It’s difficult, but you manage to finally look away from Vinny, purposefully ignoring his presence in your peripheries. You need to distract yourself from the image of him laughing and talking with his friends.

That’s how you end up making eye contact with Ricky, who had definitely already been watching you. He’s sitting at the bar closest to the pool table. There’s a barely-there smirk on his face. You pinch your eyebrows together in confusion and tilt your head a bit in a silent question of what’s up. All he does is raise his own brow in reply.

Then he’s flicking his gaze off to the side, and you don’t have to guess in order to know what he’s referring to. Ricky meets your eyes once more and you send him a mean glare with your middle finger aimed in his direction. You see him chuckle a bit before you’re turning away.

You’re trying your best to keep both Vinny and Ricky out of your sights, which results in you playing with the hair-tie encircling your wrist. But then your phone buzzes from its position on the bar before you.

Ricky Whore-or: Chris said I can bunk with him tonight btw. We’re gonna leave in a few minutes to grab my stuff from our hotel room

You’re going to kill that man.

You look up from your phone to see Ricky looking at his own phone as he talks to Chris. Then he sets the device down and you receive another text.

Ricky Whore-or: P.S. you’re not very subtle, so don’t ever say I’ve never done anything for you ;)

Yeah, you’re gonna fucking kill him.

You don’t bother replying to his texts or acknowledging his existence any more. The alcohol settling in your stomach suddenly feels like lead.

A few minutes later you’re joined at the bar by Ryan. He has a beer in his hand and he strikes up a conversation with you. He may not know it, but he is doing you a great service by distracting you. Because you aren’t sure how long you two had been talking and laughing for before you notice your glass is empty and his is gone as well, another opened bottle sitting next to it.

Before you know it, you see Ricky, Chris, and AJ waving goodbye and leaving the bar. Ricky sends you a smug smile that you flip him off for. He just laughs and disappears from view.

Maybe another twenty minutes later is when Vinny finally comes over to you. Justin is on his heels, and sits down on the stool on the other side of Ryan. Vinny chooses to stand right behind you with an arm curling around you. You notice his grip is much tighter than what it has been previously today.

“You guys staying?” Vinny’s question is directed at his bandmates. There’s a vague hardness to his voice that has your eyebrows scrunching with confusion.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up in a few minutes,” Ryan says as Justin nods.

Vinny is then immediately tugging you to your feet and dragging you towards the door. You quickly say goodnight to Ryan and Justin before you’re outside of the bar.

The short walk back to the hotel is fast paced, with Vinny gripping your hand and essentially dragging you after him. You consider saying something to ease the apparent tension mingling in between you. But Vinny doesn’t appear to be interested in conversing so you keep quiet.

When you make it to the hotel and go for the elevator, Vinny keeps an arm around you, like you would float away if he let go. And then you’re stepping out of the elevator then down the hall to your room. You fish out the keycard and unlock the door.

The moment the door shuts behind you and you hear the indicating click of it being locked once more Vinny’s hands are on you. He turns you around to face him, and his lips are immediately on yours.

Your hands cup either side of his face while his are grabbing at your waist. Your lips are moving against each other haphazardly, with little to no grace in the act. He’s licking into your mouth and you whine as he shuffles you backwards.

The backs of your legs make contact with the bed, then Vinny is lowering you onto the mattress. He leans down with you, careful not to break the heated kiss.

Vinny’s hands are roving all over your body; he can’t seem to make up his mind and touch you in a singular place. One of his hands snakes up your shirt and the other moves to rest on your neck. You shudder slightly at the sudden sting of his cold rings on your skin.

But then he’s pulling away. Disappointment flashes in your chest as you watch him sit up through hooded eyes, although he keeps the one hand gently gripping your neck. You’re caged in by his legs, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s going to continue this stupid game of his.

You grab at his shirt and tightly bunch the fabric up in your fists.

“Vin, what the fuck?” you snap.

He looks down you with a weird look on his face.

“What?” he pants above you. “What do you mean what the fuck?”

“First, the bathroom this morning—“ His thumb brushing at the center of your throat has you faltering for a moment. “A-And then constantly touching me and teasing me. I have needed you all day. God, you’re a fucking asshole.”

Vinny’s lips stretch into a grin in realization.

“I love teasing you and getting you all worked up,” he admits. He leans back into your space and begins pressing kisses to your jawline. “It’s just.. so much fun.”

Your eyes are threatening to roll back in your head as Vinny makes his way down your jaw to your pulse point. He stops his kisses and proceeds to nip and suck at your skin, carelessly giving you a hickey that will definitely be hard to cover up in the morning.

“But at the bar…” His voice vibrates against your throat. “Maybe I’d teased you a little too much. Maybe I was being an asshole … But you were too close to Ryan and he was making you laugh—“

“Oh, my god.” You laugh at Vinny’s halfhearted admission. He bites your skin in retaliation. “Y-You were jealous of Ryan? Jesus christ, Vin. I love Ryan, but is he the one on top of me right now?”

Vinny mumbles into your neck before he’s pulling away and looking down at you. His face is flushed and his lips are swollen and red. You speak again before he has a chance to.

“Maybe I should flirt with your bandmates more often if it means you’ll take me to bed afterwards,” you remark casually with a smile.

You were trying to be joking and playful, but Vinny doesn’t look amused. He’s glaring down at you with his mouth in a tight line. You then prop yourself up on your elbows so your face is closer to his.

“Hey. I love you, okay?” you tell him. You see his eyes catch on your lips as you talk. “I’m in love with you, not anyone else. I’m sorry, baby. I love you.”

Vinny stays quiet for a moment. Then his hand is back at your throat, a very light pressure being applied by his fingertips. You gasp sharply at the suddenness of the act, but you can see Vinny’s eyes gradually softening at he continues to look down at you.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs.

You offer him a smile, to which he returns.

“Now, can you do something, please?” you ask.

“Yeah? Like what?” Vinny leans back in to kiss you. But this is slow and steady, an agonizing pace compared to a few minutes ago.

You hum into the kiss without bothering to attempt at replying. Vinny is languidly kissing you, taking his sweet time and savoring every touch of your lips. He pries your mouth open with his tongue and there’s a sliver of your being that believes he may be trying to devour you whole.

You’re growing restless, however. As much as you love the slow make outs, right now, you need more.

So you’re fisting Vinny’s shirt and trying to push it up his body, but he stops you before you’re able to achieve your goal. He wordlessly sits up and pulls off his shirt and jacket. You reach out to touch him, but again, he’s stopping you before that can happen. Because his hands are dragging your own shirt off of you and his mouth is all over your stomach and chest.

His teeth sink into your flesh at random intervals. You know there are going to be countless hickeys and love bites from your navel all the way up to your neck, and you are totally fine with that.

Vinny works his way down your torso until he reaches the waistband of your pants. He looks up at you and grins when he sees how flustered and red you are. The sight of him smiling between your legs should not be that hot, but you love it too much to stop it.

As he’s working on getting your pants off, you slip out of your bra and toss it away blindly. The way he looks back up at you once your legs are free of your bottoms (and underwear) and your chest is bare has you biting back a moan.

“Sit up,” Vinny says. His voice is low and rough, and you do not hesitate to sit on the bed with your legs bent beneath you.

Vinny takes off the rest of his clothes at the foot of the bed. Your bottom lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch him undress, until he is completely naked. You think you taste blood, but it’s a little too late to check or care with Vinny crawling back towards you.

He grabs the back of your head and pushes you into him, your hands grabbing at the roots of his hair. He’s kissing you with much more aggression and hunger, and there’s nothing you can do from moaning against his lips. And the sound of Vinny also humming and moaning into your mouth has a persistent pulse throbbing in your cunt.

With his other hand, Vinny gently shoves your legs open. The unexpected cool air against your pussy has your grip in his hair tightening. Then his fingers are gliding through your wet folds and you keen against him at the sensation.

A high pitched moan escapes you when one of his fingers presses its way inside you. The feeling has you breaking the kiss and throwing your head back as Vinny slowly works you open.

“Doing so good, baby,” Vinny murmurs into your collarbone. His teeth scrape against your skin just as he’s shoving another digit inside of you.

Your walls seize around his fingers when he begins to pick up his pace. You cry out in pleasure and relish in the strained noises Vinny’s making against the column of your throat.

That white hot coil that has been plaguing you all day is finally going to meet its end. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and you grind down into Vinny’s hand to make it come sooner. And he obliges, by pressing his thumb into your clit, adding just enough pressure and extra movement to have you coming undone.

You moan loudly at your much needed release, and Vinny continues to fuck his fingers in and out of you until you’re relaxing against him.

It didn’t take much for you to come, but Vinny doesn’t seem bothered. With hazy eyes you watch him take those same fingers that had just been inside you and lick them clean. You moan lightly at the sight.

Vinny doesn’t wait for you to recover before he’s pulling you into his lap. His hard cock is pressing against your folds, and that stupid heated knot is finding its way back to its original place deep down in your belly.

“Vin,” you whine at him. “Vin, please—“

But he’s reconnecting your mouths and you taste yourself on his tongue. It makes your head spin and you’re humming into him again.

And you’re so lost in the kiss that you don’t notice right away how Vinny is working his cock into you. With one arm around your waist and the other carefully guiding you down onto him. The feeling of finally being filled by him is nearly overwhelming.

When he’s bottomed out he pulls away from you by a few inches. His eyes are blown with desire and you think you can see your own reflected back at you.

Vinny begins moving and you tug harshly at his hair. He hisses at the sharp pain that splices through his scalp, but keeps thrusting up into you. You push back down against him, and you work out a steady rhythm that has the head of Vinny’s cock hitting that one spot inside you that makes you see stars.

An entire galaxy flashes across your vision. There are now two arms around your torso, and the tightness of them is comforting as you continue rocking against Vinny.

In the space between you there are the sounds of shared panting and moaning and you swear you hear a muttered “Feel so good, mama.” Even if you had imagined it, it still makes you move your hips faster.

You can feel your second orgasm approaching rapidly. Your body is clenching around Vinny, his thrusts growing more uncoordinated. You’re both so close.

“Vin— Ah, ah—“ He’s biting your neck again. “Vinny baby, ‘m so—“

“I know. Come on, baby.” His breath is scorching hot on your neck and shoulder. “Ah— Come for me, baby.”

A moment later you’re coming with Vinny’s name on your lips, another brilliant series of stars and nebulas dotting your vision. His continued thrusts helps you through your high, especially when his arms tense around you as you feel him stiffen then he’s coming in you.

Everything feels amplified — every breath, every inch of skin being on fire, every bead of sweat that drips down your body.

All you feel is Vinny.

Vinny, Vinny, Vinny.

And god, the friction of skin on skin as he’s pulling out makes you dizzy.

Vinny lays you back on the bed and you blearily watch him enter the bathroom then return a few moments later. He hovers above you as he gently wipes your legs and pelvis clean with a damp washcloth, his touch comforting and light. He’s cautious in his work.

Your fingers are aching from how hard you had been clutching at the strands of hair on Vinny’s head, much like a vise. As he gets you both under the covers, he sees you flexing your hands lazily. He begins to massage at the joints of each individual finger and you let him.

You shift closer to him so your head is resting in the crook of his neck. He absentmindedly tangles your legs together as he keeps on with his task.

“I love you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

“I love you, too,” Vinny says back. And you can hear the smile in his voice.

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#vinny mauro #vinny mauro smut #vinny mauro fic #vinny mauro fanfiction #vinny mauro fanfic #motionless in white #motionless in white fanfic #motionless in white fic #motionless in white fanfiction #chenzo mauro #vinny mauro x reader #alex’s queue!#𖤐 #𖤐: writing

279 notes · View notes

97keanu · 1 year ago

Note

john wick and reader’s first christmas together 🤩

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ I just love this idea! Thank you so much for sending it in ❄️.*ㅤ

Premise: John wants to give his wife the best Christmas he can. He decides to surprise you by taking you to a remote cabin he owns(typically used as a safehouse from his work if need be). Features John who tries to finally let his guard down and relax, hot cocoa kisses, and sexy times by the roaring fire ♡.゜

Tags/CW: FLUFFY, domestic bliss!John, loving husband!John, some much needed down time for the Wicks, blizzards, cabin in the woods, eventual smut, soft but still dominant!John, pretty tame but sensual smut, you learn things about your husband that you never knew, you see a side of john you never thought you would, daddy kink, spanking, commanding John, p in v, doggy, edging.

The roads twisted between thick fur and pine trees of the deepest and most vibrant hues of green your eyes have ever seen. You're used to your concrete jungle, the city life of New York being all you've ever really known. You had never taken a camping trip before John, let alone a getaway in some private cabin up in the mountains. You didn't know there were even mountains near where you two usually lived, but with the secret blindfolded plane ride, you're not sure you're even in the same state anymore.

John's large hand rests on your thigh, giving little squeezes every so often and warming the skin there. His other hand keeps a hold of the wheel, driving the slick black-as-night car. He had trade in for the SUV styled vehicle instead his usual Mustang so that you two could make it through the snowy terrain. The visibility is getting less and less as the darkness of night begins to settle in and the snowflakes blasting against the cars windshield get bigger and thicker by the minute. You're grateful for how warm the heaters are keeping you, your short skirt and leg warmers no match for this weather, but you had wanted to wear something cute for your getaway trip and John had only said it was a "little chilly". You curl up in the giant black leather seats of the car, sleep wanting to take you after so much traveling. You spy John peeking over at you, and hear him speak for the first time in a few miles.

"It won't be long now," He let's your thigh have another reassuring squeeze. "We'll be away and in the warmth of the cabin soon. I had it prepped for our arrival, so it should be nice and toasty when we get there."

You hum a small response, eyes wanting to shut so badly. Your head leans against the seatbelt, letting the thick strap cradle it.

The trees grow thicker and seem to be devouring the car as the road turns into a tiny trail. You wonder for a moment how or who John would send to keep the cabin prepped. You notice how the trail has been plowed already, and slowly but surely a warmth of yellow glows as John turns the last corner towards the cabin. You see the large structure, it's windows vibrantly orange against the cold whites and blues of the winter forest around it. The chimney already billows with smoke, lazily getting pulled away by the wind. It looks expensive and inviting.

John gets out of the car first, the wind blowing in flakes of snow already, melting on the warm leather seats almost immediately. John spies the chill that shakes through you from the sudden cold, and takes off his warm winter jacket. He walks over to your side of the car, opening it, that burst of frost blasting you once more. He helps you out, wrapping you tightly in his jacket, his warmth radiating into you through it.

John carefully takes you inside, careful of any ice that may be lingering. He opens the wooden door of the cabin, and you can already feel the warmth on your cheeks once more as you step inside.

"Not so bad, huh?" John says with a small smile, rubbing up and down your arms to try to keep you warm.

"Yeah, but I would have dressed warmer if I'd know there was a blizzard waiting for us!" You say with false concern, not really that upset when you're in such a luxury cabin as this, and all the thought that John put into it apparent to you.

"The storm wasn't supposed to set in so quickly, that was my mistake of underestimating it..." His voice remains brighter, but you can tell he wishes he had calculated it better. That sort of thing means a lot to him.

You pull your loving husband in, taking his bearded face in your hands and planting a long, soft kiss on his lips. You pull back and look into those deep brown eyes of his. For the first time in a long time, he looks content, excited, happy. There's a significant lack of the usual worry there, but even so, his dark brows always show a hint of it.

"Listen, why don't you take a moment to warm up by the fire in the livingroom, and I'll start getting our things inside..." He is obviously up to something else, you can always tell, but you have an idea of it either way.

You shrug off the jacket he gave you, his masculine scent of pine and mint cologne going with it, and give him a kiss on the cheek as you do.

"Keep warm out there..." You whisper to him, a hand pushing one side of his long dark hair back behind his ear.

"Always..." He returns the kiss and slips out the door, snow billowing in onto the hard wood as he does, and the wind being extinguished as he closes the door once more.

For a moment, you glance out the window, fogged up by the heat of the inside fighting the cold of the wilderness. You check the car, where your husband should be, and see nothing, thinking he's disappeared into that dark winter night. Then, you catch a glimpse of him moving past a different window, farther from the car than he should be if he were to be unpacking.

Checking the perimeter. You've known him to do this when you two travel. No other man you've dated has done such a thing, but no other man was John Wick. You still were unsure about his work since he kept you at such a distance, but you could take a few guesses at this point. You don't like him being out in the cold like this, but if it makes him feel better, maybe takes his mind off everything so that you two may enjoy your Christmas vacation together, then you'll let him do so without bringing it up.

That was your duty as a loving wife. A loving wife who didn't ask questions. Who knew but said nothing of it. Who doted without wanting to know more. And for now? That was enough for you.

You know it will be a second before he gets back, so you decide to take in the cabin while he's away. You look at the grand living room area you're standing in, two massive staircases encircling the largest Christmas tree you've ever seen, twinkling with a million tiny lights. The dark wood of the enterior is rich and inviting. To your right, a fireplace, couches and seating around it, the mantel hung with green garland and deep red bows. In front of the fire rests a white bear hide, you wonder if it's real or not, but you don't think you've ever seen John hunting. Animals, that is.

Beside that are the largest windows you've ever seen, over looking the forest and you think a lake if you can spy that correctly out in the mess of the blizzard. It makes your heart tense to think of John out there in that, but he's a grown man, he can make his own decisions, you tell yourself, as the good, loving wife you are.

You walk there, looking out, seeing all the freezing cold that you're happy to be away from dancing out there beyond the thick trees. You turn towards the fire, walking over, letting the bare of your legs and arms get warm. Your thin little scarf did just about as much as you tiny skirt and white fluffy leg warmers did to warm you, but a lively fire should do the trick. You close your eyes, hands out and feeling the warm down to your bones, listening to the wood crackling and dying inside the flame.

After a while, you end up curling yourself the coziest and plushest couch you've ever been in. It's deep brown in color, and has the feeling of soft leather, the kind that still has a bit of fur on it. The crocheted cream blanket hung over it quickly becomes yours, and you watch the fire as your eyes slowly drift closed, and the flames twirl behind your eyelids.

❄️.*ㅤ

You're not sure when you fell asleep, or for how long, but when you feel cold lips kiss upon your cheek, your eyes flutter open to meet John's. The fire behind him has significantly died down.

"Sorry to wake you sweetheart," his voice is hushed and soft. "I finished unpacking for us. I started our late dinner as well, so that will be done soon if you're hungry."

You hadn't really thought about it, but as John mentions it, and you smell that delicious scent of a home cooked meal, your stomach growls despite yourself. John smiles at the response and stands up, holding a hand out to you. You take it, enjoying the feel of his rough hands engulfing your tiny soft ones for a moment.

The two of you go towards the left of the cabin, through two double doors grand with subtle embellishments, and the wonderful smell of the kitchen grows larger as you walk through. You see the brightly lit kitchen before you, the appliances a mix of modern and old styled, the color of them all deep greens and brandished golds. A small, simple chandelier hangs down over the middle of a black marble island in the center of the room. There are nice, large, comfy stools made of wood and black leather waiting for you there, the high backs of the stools perfectly curved to lean against. You take seat, and John opens the oven to check what's cooking in there.

"I always forget how good of a cook you are." You say with a soft smile.

"I don't do it often, but I hope you enjoy it when I do." He responds with a small chuckle, pulling a chefs apron in black off a golden hook on the wall, and wrapping it around himself so he may continue cooking.

He gets out a medium golden saucepan, opening the old styled fridge and getting out cream and milk, mixing them into the pot. You watch with fascinated eyes as he does so, then spotting him open the pantry door and seeing it fully stocked with snacks and goodies.

"You really had this place set up, huh?" You comment as he takes out a hefty bar of high quality dark chocolate from the pantry.

"Only the best for my wonderful wife..." He says with that small smile of his, walking over near you and setting up a cutting board.

"Do you wanna learn how to make homemade hot chocolate?" He continues, bringing a sharp chefs knife with him.

You're actually really interested, you've never had John 'teach' you anything so far, so you wonder what kind of mentor he would be.

"Yes, I'd like that."

John nods, and begins to show you and tell you what he's doing. First, he takes the chocolate bar, then sets it on the cutting board. He then explains how sharp these types of knives are and how you have to be careful, showing you how to cut with your knuckles out instead of your fingers.

"Always cut away from yourself..." He explains as he does so himself, chopping the chocolate into finely shredded pieces. "It's kind of hard because you don't want the chocolate to melt too much from your hands, so you have to work fast."

You watch a few more times, a question or two being answered with patience and honestly, and finally you feel your ready. John comes behind you, his hands guiding yours to the right places, then traveling up to your shoulders. You shiver from his touch.

He watches carefully as you cut, making sure to tell you if you're getting too close to your knuckles. You work slower than he does, the chocolate beginning to melt and stick to your fingers, but he doesn't stop you. He wants you to be able to make mistakes and figure it out on your own.

He pulls his hands down to yours a few times when you ask for help, his hands helping yours to get the motion. You feel a blush settling in your cheeks as you think about how close he is, his scent easily inhaled from this distance. You know you're already married to the man, but you can't help but retain that crush you've had on him since the very beginning. He had such a way with being suavely romantic like that, as if he wasn't even trying to do so.

Finally, all the chocolate is cut, your chunks not nearly as fine as John's, but he reassures you it will all melt the same in the end. You both move to the pot of milk that's on the stove, John igniting the gas and the blue flame rising to meet the bottom of the pot. John let's you carefully brush the chocolate off the cutting board into the pot.

He then opens a nearby cupboard, bringing out spices and such.

"I like to put vanilla, cinnamon, and a bit more sugar into mine..." He admits almost sheepishly.

You have to agree, it's interesting to see John, his buff arms on display from his dark undershirt, scars here and there, in a chefs apron talking about his favorite way to prepare hot cocoa. It's not that he can't do such a thing, John could do anything, you know that. It's that he's usually never allowed to be so tender, to have such opinions, to show off this side of himself, even to you, his wife. You're already starting to cherish these moments of bliss with him.

He let's you add the other ingredients yourself with the help of his verbal instructions, and you're happy he does so. You may be his wife, but he knew when he married you that you didn't sign up to be the cook in the family. And you're glad that he never pushed that, but right now, you're enjoying creating something with him, even if it is a recipe.

"So, where up here for 5 whole nights, what do you have planned for me, John?" You say over your shoulder as you stir the heating liquid on the stove.

John is taking what's in the oven out as he responds, the delicious smell of roasted chicken and vegetables filling your nose.

"Oh, a little of this, a bit of that," he plays coy then continues. "Would you prefer if I don't keep it a surprise?"

You think about his question, asked in ernest, and consider it.

"No, but, I guess I'm just excited since what you've already given me has been so wonderful..." You smile and glance at him, watching as he prepares two plates for the evening.

Even this, he does with precision.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a real chef." You comment on his culinary skills.

"Ah," he says with a sigh as he wipes clean a spot of loose sauce on the sparkling white plate. "Perhaps, in another life..."

You know John doesn't speak of his work often, but every so often you get a glimpse into his true thoughts and feelings about it. You go back to finishing the hot chocolate without a word.

❄️.*ㅤ

Soon, the two of you have dined and enjoyed your delicious meal, lazing on the livingroom couch together with a mug half filled with cocoa each, the whipped cream all gone.

You lean into John's form, enjoying the feeling of his body against yours, the way the curves fit just perfectly. You listen to Christmas vinyl, all instrumental pieces, softly playing on a record player in the room. You watch outside as the snow piles up and drifts against the room filling windows, letting it block the two of you in here alone with ease.

"Aren't you worried we'll get snowed in?" You whisper to your husband, voice languid and relaxed.

"Not one bit," John chuckles softly in your ear, playing with a strand of your hair between your fingers. "We have more than enough food and resources to last well over a month. Besides, I'm used to the cold."

He kisses your cheek with the last word, and you can't help but smile back.

You bite your lip, thinking about what you want to say back, what you dream of asking, but you know you're not supposed to ask questions into his past. That's not what you're meant to do as his loving wife.

A few moments pass, and you just can't help yourself.

"Where did you grow up, John?" The words fall from your mouth, and you feel the muscles in John's chest tighten, almost reflexively.

He doesn't say anything for a long time, then a breath he seems to have been holding slips out low and slow.

"I grew up as an orphan." He says it slowly, and your eyes widen when you hear, you're grateful your back is against John so he can't see your surprise.

You say nothing, digesting the words, having learned so much from so little. You can imagine that it wasn't at all easy growing up as an orphan, but a part of you wonders, no hopes, that the story has a better end.

"I was born in Belarus," he continues. "And stayed there until I eventually made my way to New York."

Shadows, once again, from your husband. There is so much he's omitting, you know that, and there's so much you wish to ask him for details. You swallow those questions hard, instead remaining silent, in case he wishes to tell more, but not pressing anything.

"The winter's there were pretty harsh, so I find it somewhat comforting to be back in it." he finally says after a long pause. "Reminds me of how far I've come from that."

You feel John's hands move for the first time since this conversation, suddenly no longer frozen against you. It's as if the warmth has begun to flood his body against, forgetting that freezing past of his. He pulls you in tighter, wrapping his arms around you and feeling you there with him. You hear his sigh, and you know that's all he will say about it tonight. He buries his face in your hair, ready to forget for now. You let him.

❄️.*ㅤ

The days at the cabin pass like the last of the snow fall on the peaks of the trees, quiet, hushed, a whisper to a lover with lustful intent. You spend time with John that feels like a century, and as the night of Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself feeling closer and closer to him without having to say much.

With his away at work all the time, you're cherishing these moments as they come, happy to stay inside with him and the cozy warmth of the fire that John keeps from going hungry. Tonight, you lead him into the living room, where the fire crackles and welcomes you once more. He let's you dance as you do so, helping twirl you as the jazzy songs of the records he puts on dazzle in response.

You pull him to the couch, letting him take a seat before you decide his lap is yours, straddling him. He looks wonderful tonight, his beard trimmed clean and his suit retired for a relaxed fit of a black v-neck that shows off his muscular form wonderfully. You're surprised to see he can even wear jeans, so used to his formal attire he usually comes home from work in. There's no blood splatters or blood holes to be found either. Nothing for you to repair, patch up without a word, the dutiful wife who knows her place in this gone for these moments.

You feel like when you just met, and John was just a charming, handsome man who woo'ed you into his life. No secrets were insight, not quite yet, back then. Just typically lack of knowledge of one another. More equal than ever in those moments.

You kiss him, the fire silhouetting the two of you. Your kiss is passionate and deep, your lips finding his and crushing against them with want and warmth from so deep inside you, you wonder if a flame hasn't ignited there as well. You feel your stomach flutter as you kiss, his hands starting at your back, holding you there as you grind into his lap slowly, as if you're trying not to let him know you're doing it at all. He smiles into the kiss, his hips returning the sensation, obviously knowing what you want.

When the kiss finally breaks, your breathless and looking into those dark eyes, the fire dancing twinkling yellow light on them so you can see the amber inside. You watch him for a moment, watch your handsome husband who breathes heavy beneath you, eyes full of want that he is barely holding back. You know he could take you whenever he wishes, flip you like you weighed that of a feather and fuck your brains out just as easily. But he wants to let you play with him, let you enjoy this and watch you as you do.

"Show me how badly you want it," he says, and you already know what he means.

You lift your skirt, your lacy, delicate panties revealing for just a moment as you straddle one of his thighs. You get in position, slowly taking your top, fluffy sweater off, your bralette matching your panties beneath. He watches with curiosity, a lone hand gently, as light as a moth's wing, gliding against your curves, taking them in.

You shudder as if a chill has found you, but all you have inside is that fiery passion that John flames within. You kiss him again, moving down his neck, pulling down to his chest and trying to get as much surface area as you can from his v-neck. Your hips begin to gently grind against his thigh, the feeling of being able to control your pleasure there wonderful. John chuckles while he watches you struggle to kiss deeper, and you think for a moment he may take his shirt off as well.

"Rip it off," he says with a laugh, and you pull back to look at him.

"I don't think I'm strong enough..." You admit with a smile, waiting for him to tease you.

"I want to see you try." He isn't teasing per se, but he is curious to see the strength you wield.

You laugh for a moment, then see how serious his eyes are about it, and bite your lip. You know he wouldn't make fun of you for not being able to do such a thing, you're no trained fighter the way he is, after all. But you do want to impress him.

You grip that V of his shirt a little harder, and clench your fists tight around it, giving it a testing tug. Nothing happens, and you glance to John, who's bemused by the sight.

"You'll have to try harder than that, love." He whispers, still encouraging you with his tone.

You pull harder this time, using all the muscles in your arms as you can. Still, not much, but you think you hear a few seams tear. You try one more time and finally, a decent part of the V rips open, exposing more of his deliciously defined chest.

"That's a good girl, I knew you could do it." He reassures, cupping your face and letting his thumb rub against your lower lip.

You open wide, letting his thumb enter there, playing with your tongue for a moment, before settling in your mouth. You suck joyfully on it, letting him praise you for being so good, rubbing your wetting cunt on his thigh more. He watches you with a pleased grin, his free hand on your hip, guiding you into his thigh. You let your hands explore his chest as much as you want, enjoying the feel of hard muscle against soft skin there.

"Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy and show him how badly you need his cock?" He says with his head tilted in curiosity, watching your reaction.

You moan and nod, still enjoying letting your mind slowly fade away, turning into the dumb little whore you love to be for him. You keep your body rocking against his and he takes his thumb from your mouth, reaching up to your designer skirt, and ripping through it much faster and easier than you did his shirt. He does away with the rest of that as well, and hears your pouting about the ripped skirt.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you another one." he smirks. "I like it better when I can see all of you."

And with that he unzips your bralette from the front, letting your breasts, heavy with want, fall into his large hands. He takes both of them, rubbing them perfectly in unison, enjoying the feeling there. He likes how soft you are, how all your edges are smooth without sharpness. He enjoys how plump and soft your skin is, telling you such things in a whisper, making the heat of a blush rise to your cheeks and chest. You reach back and center your hands on his legs, giving him a better view of what he desires, and note leverage to grind deeper into his thigh. You needy whines begin to echo in the cabin.

"Oh, is that all, darling?" he says. "I think you can show me how much you want it more than that."

You breathe out, your chest heaving, letting your breasts entice him with each lung full of air.

"I need you so bad..." You whisper, your pussy soaking through your panties.

"Oh really? Should Daddy check?" He says, letting one of his hands move to your awaiting cunt, and testing out how wet you are over your panties.

He rubs there, and you lose it, your eyes rolling back and closing with pleasure that runs through you as he plays with your clit. You grind into his hands, so big and waiting for your pretty little cunt to do such a thing. He stops moving, making you whine more from lack of stimulation, but you know he wants to watch you rub yourself against him first.

"I'm not convinced yet." John raises a skeptical eyebrow and you pretend hate how much work he's making you do.

You touch your own breasts, grinding harder and whining louder, calling his name.

"Tell me what you want, baby girl. Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

"I-I..." You try to get that lustfully full and dumb head of yours to bring coherent words from your moans. "I want you to fuck me in front of the fire. On the floor, from behind, and hold me down like the naughty girl I am..."

You feel a shiver run right down to your cunt from how John smirks at you, happy with your response.

He says nothing, and for a moment you're not sure if you've begged enough yet. But then, without warning, he grabs you, flipping you into his arms, and rising from the couch. He pulls you to him, the heat of his skin against yours giving you tingles. Soon, you're on all fours, the pelt of that bear rug thick and soft between your fingers. You look back, and John's hands are already at your panties, and with a gasp from you, he's ripped those off as well and discarded them.

He in zips his jeans, his cock flopping out, girthy and ready for you.

"Put yourself on Daddy's cock, show me that you want it." He breathes with his own lust only barely concealed.

You back up on your knees, feeling his cock flop against your ass, the size of it so intimidating already. You can already feel your cunt clenching from how badly you want it. Your hand reaches back and moves it so his cock is between your legs underneath you, and you slowly stroke it, enjoying the soft breaths John let's out from the pleasure.

You start by letting it slide between your wet folds, letting it rub it's tip against your clit, enjoying the friction there. Then, finally, as John commanded, you line his cock up with your needy entrance, and slowly let the head breach your folds there, popping inside of you as you moan out.

"That's it. Ease yourself onto me."

You do so, slowly letting your ass back up into him, his cock getting deeper and deeper as you do, stretching you out slowly. He may be your husband, but with a cock like that, you've always had to take your time to accomadate him if you didn't want it to be painful. Other times, the slam of his cock so suddenly inside you was desired, but tonight, you two are taking it slow.

You gasp as you feel his full length slowly fill you, so tight and deep inside of you. John's hands play with gripping your ass, before letting a light, but loud slap go on them.

“Fuck, your tight little cunt feels so good, baby…” He sighs out as he carefully pulls his hips back, starting to pump inside you after.

You moan, loving the way he praises you like that, loving being a good girl for him who takes all of his girthy cock whenever he wants. You hate to admit how mindless you go when he fucks you like this. You feel like every worry and thought is fucked right out of your pretty little head.

John's cock begins to pick up speed, and with your sudden gasps and moans from the faster stimulation he asks if you're taking it alright.

You give a confirming noise and nod, but you can barely speak from how good you're feeling right now.

“That’s a good girl,” John says, his voice tight and husky from how much he's enjoying fucking you. “I want you to touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You feel tingles run across your back as his hands station there, plunging his cock deeper as he does. At this rate, you feel like you might even just cum from what he's doing right now. Yet, your clit aches from the lack of attention, so you shift your weight and body so your hand can reach beneath yourself to get to that tender spot.

“Yes, baby…Show me how much you love me fucking you.” John’s voice hushes to you, soft, but commanding.

You do just that, feeling yourself in just the right way, you pleasure doubling as he continues to fill you up with his cock over and over again. You find your cheek against the fur rug, the heat from the fire prickling your skin, at this point making you almost start to sweat. You close your eyes, mouth open and moans uncontrollable.

“Look at me.” John commands, and your eyes flutter open, your head turned to look back at him.

John is just so gorgeous. His ripped, lean body, the glisten of sweat gleaming and twinkling in the fire light. But what really turns you on is his eye contact. Those wolf-like eyes, so deep and dark, looking at you. You can't help but feel like prey to him when he's like this, the way he looks at you like a predator who's just about to earn his hunt. You feel your cunt tightening as you do what he says, your own eyes look at him with scared little doe eyes, afraid to disobey, to not please.

You watch as your husband continues to pound your cunt into oblivion, taking more and more, picking up speed despite how brutal it's already starting to feel. You love the feeling, the feeling of allowing your husband so much power over you, of letting him take your body however he wants. You feel your eyes flutter closed from how close you are, cunt tightening to try to get closer, breath held.

You also hear a deep, animalistic growl from John, and you know you're breaking the rules. He commanded you to look at him, and now you're losing yourself in your pleasure without doing so. Even after you correct yourself, eyes meeting his, you know you've earned a punishment.

He wrenches your hips back into his cock, keeping you there with one hand in a steel grip, the other lifting off and pulling back to slap your ass. You cry out at the first hit, feeling a sting reverberate there. The worst part was how much wetter it made you, how closer you were from every spank he laid upon you ass. He continues, a small smirk on his lips, he knows what he's doing to you.

“Tell me how much you like. Tell me how you deserve to be fucked like this.” John's voice wavers and you know he needs to hear it just as much as you do.

“I…” You try to make your brain work, another gasp and another slap, your ass now red with his hand print. “I need you to punish me for being a bad girl, and not following your rules.”

Your hand is viciously rubbing your swollen and wet cunt, being pushed to its edge by how deep and hard John thrusts into you.

“And?” John urges you on, his cock feeling harder and harder, swollen and ready to fill you as soon as he lets himself do so.

“And I want you to spank me until I'm left with a mark to remember to be a good girl next time…!” You cry out, so close, wanting to close your eyes and focus on your pleasure, but forcing yourself to keep that eye contact with him.

You hear John growl once more, this time from how much he's holding back right now. You know he wants to cum, but he's waiting on you. Your legs begin to shake as you continue to hastily play with your clit. John seems as if he can't take it anymore, and he grabs your hips, pulling them up, his hand snaking under you and pushing yours aside.

“Let Daddy do it for you.” He says as if he's frustrated beyond your comprehension, but you love the way he touches you, so you allow it.

His large hands take up so much more space, engulfing your clit, milking it in the perfect way that makes your breath leave your body and your muscles clench with shivers. You take all he is giving you, watching him as he begins to lose himself in you. You tighten around his cock to a point you don't think you can do more, and begin to feel yourself come over the edge, cunt fluttering and spasming around him.

“That’s my girl…” He sighs out, obviously there is relief in the fact that he can do this for you.

You try your hardest to keep eye contact, but in the end, you close them, finding yourself lost in your own competition. You relish in the feeling of his hand taking your pleasure from you, slowing down and making it last. You feel as he reaches his own point, and finally with a groan, John spills inside of you as you're on the tail end of your finishing. His cum feels hot, almost tingly inside of you, making your head fall against the rug as you take his rutting against you, digging his cum in as deep as he can into your tight little cunt.

When he's done, he slowly pulls out, his hand swiping any stray cum and slipping it back inside you with ease. You feel completely exhausted, and he can tell. John takes you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest as he lays next to the fire with you. You feel yourself softly drift off to sleep as John pets your hair, whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“I love you…” He ends on after complimenting your body and everything else he adores about you.

You softly mumble a return, and with that sleep has taken you.

❄️.*ㅤ

John surprises you for the rest of the trip. Ice skating down at the lake, amazing dinners, long baths together with glasses of bubbly champagne just to name a few.

When it comes to the day of Christmas Eve, he's somehow managed to make some of your favorite family dishes. You look over the feast, and feel at home here with him. You never want to leave this cabin, but you know in the coming days you will have to. You love how close you and John have gotten here.

“How did you know?” You say after he reveals tonight's dinner, John’s arms wrapped around you while he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

“I have my ways…” He says mysteriously, and you know he will just leave it at that.

You two dine, laughing and carefree, something you didn't think you would see from John this often.

When you're done, you curl up on a couch near the tree, and John begins to pull out a few presents.

“Don’t you want to wait until tomorrow?” You ask him.

“I know your family always celebrates on Christmas Eve instead of day…” And for a moment you try to remember if you've told your husband that, or if this is another one of his mysterious ways.

You decide it doesn't matter, because you're just happy he cares and is thoughtful enough for any of this.

He hands you a small silver wrapped box first. He watches as you accept it and begins to open it with a smile twinkling in his dark eyes. You can tell he enjoys this.

You open the present, and are met with the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. It's perfectly your taste, and when John goes to put it on you, it hangs beautifully on your neckline. You feel him kiss up your neck as you thank him for something so gorgeous.

“You don't need to thank me,” he whispers in your ear. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves beautiful gifts.”

You can't help the smile creeping on your lips from that line, and you turn so your lips can crush against his with a grin. He turns the kiss, his soft, plump lips enjoying yours.

Then, it's your turn. You hand him a gift from you, and you feel a little nervous in comparison to what he's just given you. You know yours is less expensive, and you wonder if you should have gone for something so handmade.

John slowly and carefully tears off the red and green wrapping, and when he's done he's met with a small leather-bound book. He glances up at you with curiosity, then opens it.

What he finds is a photo album filled with photos of you two over the time you've been together. There's pictures of you on some of your first dates with him, pictures of your honeymoon, vacations you've had together. There's even some of you two around the apartment being silly together. John says nothing, but slowly turns each page, looking over each photo with care.

You fiddle with the edge of your sleeve, wondering if he likes it or not.

Finally, he gets to the end where you've left a heartfelt message to him about how you feel. He reads it, then to your relief, a smile slowly finds itself on his lips.

“This is…” He starts, then loses the words. “I can't describe to you how perfect this is.”

You feel the breath you were holding leave your lungs, and you lean into him next to you on the couch. He wraps an arm around you and brings you closer, kissing the top of your head as he does.

“I…will cherish this, thank you, my love…” He whispers into your ear, and you feel your heart swell.

You two continue exchanging smaller gifts, John somehow getting everything on your list, and you outfitting him with things he likes. You know the first gift was his favorite from how he keeps looking through it. You two end the night with rum and eggnogs while watching your favorite Christmas show, happy to be with each other. You couldn't ask for a better Christmas.

#john wick x reader #john wick fic #john wick fanfic #john wick x f!reader #my writing #christmas 2023

171 notes · View notes

thestarkerisobvious · 4 months ago

Text

Warmth

based on a prompt by @awesomestarker

story by @thestarkerisobvious and @mrstarksbaby

moodboard by @mrstarksbaby

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

Best. Vacation. Ever.

It was silly, but ever since that one year that the electricity had gone out, Peter insisted. One entire day without electricity. Except for the refrigerator, of course. And the hot water heater. But that was all. As little device use as possible. Even to look up information. That’s what books were for. During the day they would read or play chess or play card games with the tarot deck or just sit and talk in the sunlit rooms and enjoy the day. Then, at night, sleeping, bundled up in the living room by the fireplace. Just like they had done that first winter.

Peter shouldn’t be happy the electricity went out that one year. Shouldn’t be thankful. Should acknowledge, at least, some of the danger they could have been in (if it weren’t for the generator. And the backup generator, of course…)

But he couldn’t help it. Right now, he was glowing. Even in the cold cabin, he was glowing. He should at least go wrap up in the fuzzy blanket again - and he would soon - but for now he stayed where he was.

Watching the Sexiest Man Alive chop wood.

And he was. Officially. Voted Sexiest Man Alive. More than once. And Peter, now sitting in the seat closest to the window, almost shivering with the cold, couldn’t have agreed more.

He had sat there with the cup of hot cocoa Tony had made for him at his feet. He had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading in the sunlit room. He had found an old Llewellen book (“Charms, Spells and Formulas”) that he had bought ages ago at a used book store but never got around to reading. He was now pouring over a chapter about “gris-gris bags” and scribbling out lists of herbs to look up. One list to check against Tony’s fully-stocked spice rack, one to check against his collection at home, and one to check against the internet as soon as they allowed themselves back on line.

Tony had only rolled his eyes and groaned at the idea of ordering MORE spell ingredients, but didn’t interfere with the new project until he noticed Peter was shivering at the table, tucking his hands under his legs when his fingers got too cold to write.

“Humor me,” Tony countered when Peter insisted “I’m fine!” through chattering teeth. The next thing he knew he was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, warming his hands on a mug of hot cocoa.

“Are these cinnamon for my protection?” Peter asked with a grin. “Maybe,” Tony said with a sideways grin. “Someone has to protect you from yourself.”

Peter smiled, silently stirring in the intention. Then noticed that Tony was rolling up his sleeves.

“And what are you doing?”

“We need more of this,” Tony replied, kicking a pice of firewood with his boot. “I’ll be back.”

And now here they were - Tony outside chopping firewood, Peter sitting at the couch closest to the window so he could watch. Watch and wonder.

What was it about that man, Peter wondered, watching those powerful arms move, the iron muscles flex as Tony raised the ax above his head over and over again. It wasn’t the muscular build, not that alone. It couldn’t have been. Captain America had bigger biceps, and much bigger pectorals. And Thor, well, Thor was a god. Who towered above all of them, making even Cap look like a short man. There were more muscular men in Peter’s life. And as for strength…

…Peter lay back a little in his seat by the window. Smiling wistfully.

The truth was, Peter was stronger than Tony. Stronger than most of the Avengers, actually. Possibly as strong as Captain America, although Peter never set out to prove it. Never needed to. He knew what he knew. Besides, it didn’t matter.

Peter never thought much about being so strong. Never thought about the muscles he had built up just swinging across New York City every day, or lifting vehicles off of each other in pileups. In fact, whenever he thought about being “strong” the only thought, the only memory, that came to mind was holding a splitting ferry full of people together on his own. He wasn’t strong, not compared to fracturing ferries, or collapsing concrete buildings, or crashing airplanes. So he never really thought about how much stronger he was than Tony.

Oh, but in Tony’s arms at night, it felt so good to feel weak…

“Enjoying the view?” Tony asked as he brought in the first load of firewood.

“Very much so,” Peter acknowledged.

Tony headed outside again, closing the door firmly behind him to keep in the heat. Peter shivered a bit, grinning to himself. Tonight was going to be sweet. When Tony was done chopping firewood he would probably want a shower - a good place to warm them both up, certainly - and then they would have to figure out another way to keep themselves warm. Although maybe not. It was barely afternoon, maybe too early in the day for that. Peter would get up from his seat and, after finding a warm sweater, find some way of making Tony a meal. As a reward for all this wood-chopping. They had a whole list of dishes that could be made with the use of the battery powered hotplate or the fire - some sandwich melts, probably.. And maybe even some hot coco. Yes, certainly some hot cocoa. Definitely. As a reward for all this wood-chopping.

Peter would do that. Get up from his chilly seat by the window and do that. But not just yet.

Because right now, Peter just wanted to watch.

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

This has been a

production. Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to find out what ELSE we have hidden up our sleeve...

#Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #Witch!Peter #bens moodboards #thewitchway writes stuff #mrstarksbabyisobvious production #MrStarksBabyIsObvious series

65 notes · View notes

noellawrites · 1 year ago

Text

Troubled Return - Yandere!Rafael Barba x reader

summary: After returning to New York City, Rafael takes you to family court to prove you incompetent of caring for your two daughters.

warnings: toxic relationship, physical and emotional abuse, manipulation, talk of mental illness

It had been two years, but somehow stepping foot back in New York City made you feel like you'd never left. Two years since you'd taken little Lucia and your newborn daughter, so young you hadn't even named her.

And now here you were, outside Brooklyn Presbyterian after visiting your ailing mother. You huffed, holding back tears as you attempted to hail a cab. Little Isabel strapped to your stomach as Lucia held onto your leg.

Just as a yellow vehicle was pulling over in front of you, you felt Lucia detach from your leg, causing you to swing around. Suddenly, your breath was knocked out of you completely. Rafael Barba was smirking, holding your--his daughter in his arms.

"Back in New York, huh? You took off without a word. Pretty harsh, taking my newborn from me. I'm glad you're back. It's good to see you again, Lucia. And this one here, sweet Isabel. You look just like me," he grinned, stroking her cheek.

"Papí?" Lucia's small voice asked, confusion written all over her face. She was an intelligent kid, and the resemblance was uncanny.

Rafael nodded, grinning as Lucia wrapped her arms around his neck.

"How dare you?" you hissed, tears now falling freely down your cheeks.

Memories flashed through your brain, things you never wanted to think about again. You at eighteen, first meeting Rafael as an intern and allowing yourself to be charmed by him. The positive pregnancy test and subsequent marriage at age twenty. The abuse, the yelling and fighting and manipulation. Your resignation, the anger of your parents. Little Lucia, screaming for her mommy. Rafael's cold and calculating demeanor. The painful, angry sex whenever he wanted. The second test, terror at the thought of subjecting another child to the lawyer's cruelty. Fleeing the hospital with your two daughters and nothing to your name.

"How dare I? How dare you. Snatching my children from right under my nose, running away without a word. You do know I'll be taking you to court for custodial interference, don't you?" he stated, still holding Lucia in his arms.

"We're leaving. C'mon Luce," you began, attempting to pull her away from Rafael.

"Where will you go? If you leave the city, I'll call SVU and they'll have to detain you. You and the girls can stay with me. Lucia's room is still intact and there's a cradle for Izzy," he stated, taking a step back and raising his eyebrows.

"How did you know? About where I was, about Izzy--"

"You're really asking me that? Let's just take the girls home," he said, leading you towards his apartment.

—

You were sitting in your lawyer, Trevor Langan's office to go over your case before you and Rafael would have to appear in family court.

"I was being abused! I was twenty-two with two kids and an abusive husband, what else was I supposed to do?" you cried.

"I understand that, (y/n). There is no easy way to say this, but since you were married and left the state with your kids to relocate, and you don't have any proof of abuse, Rafael can press charges against you for custodial interference. Legally, he has as much of a right to your children as you do.”

"I thought Liv said you could help me!" you yelled in frustration.

"I'll do my best, (y/n). I'll likely be able to get you out of jail time but we'll have to come to a mutual agreement with Mr. Barba for custody."

"He hit me in front of our daughter! H-he pushed me into a wall when I was pregnant. He trapped me and forced me to quit my job. I can't share custody with him!" you exclaimed.

"We'll work on it, okay? I'll talk to Liv and see if there's anything they can do to help. We'll figure this out, I promise," Trevor explained, putting his hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

"Thank you, Mr. Langan. I really appreciate it," you sighed, shaking his hand and leaving his office.

—

"Despite the crimes committed, I do not wish to press charges against my wife. However, I am asking the state to declare her incompetent on account of mental illness and suspend pending termination of her parental rights. I would like her to be released into my care," Rafael stated, taking a deep sigh as he sat down and unbuttoned his blazer.

"What?" You and Trevor both gasped simultaneously, standing up and looking at each other in shock.

Trevor shuffled through his paperwork as you stood, stunned speechless. Rafael wanted to declare you incapable of raising your daughters? Was this some sort of revenge for running away?

“This file contains documentation of my wife’s history with mental health conditions, which impairs her ability to care for herself and our children. There are also photographs and written statements,” Rafael explained, walking over and handing the file to the judge.

“This is a photograph of her leaving the girls, ages one and three, unattended for several hours. Here is an intake report from the hospital at age twenty-one, while she was still living with me, detailing her self-inflicted injuries. There’s more, I’ll let you take a look,” he stated, stepping back and shooting a quick smirk at you.

“Objection! This is absurd, Mrs. Barba took care of herself and her daughters alone for two years after fleeing a physically and emotionally abusive marriage!” Trevor exclaimed, looking straight at the judge.

“I will need time to look over this file. We will reconvene in an hour,” the judge stated.

—

“Why are you doing this?” you pleaded, walking up to your husband. He stood, sharply dressed as usual, with a grin on his face. He was already preparing to win.

“Between your custody interference, neglect and mental illnesses, I have enough proof to terminate parental rights. I want to see you rehabilitated, not charged. You can be a good mother and wife, I know you can. You just need some help,” he explained, concerned eyes baring into yours.

“You’re sick, Rafael Barba. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughters,” you snapped.

“Too bad you can’t prove anything. Looks like keeping records was a good thing, huh? A perk of having you on my insurance, and being your husband of course. You’ll never be able to get away from me,” he stated, mouth close to your ear. His voice sent familiar shivers down your spine.

Even after Rafael walked away, you could smell his expensive cologne lingering. You should never have tried to outsmart the lawyer. Your fate was sealed, whether you liked it or not.

#rafael barba x reader #law and order svu x reader #law and order svu imagine #rafael barba imagine #yandere rafael barba #yandere law and order svu

160 notes · View notes

karolamurdock · 1 year ago

Text

SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.2

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: I had to look for tutorials to learn how to tag, but I made it. (っ◕‿◕)っ ♥ If you want to be tagged, just tell me in the comments. Enjoy.

Warnings: Angst, mild violence. English is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 3.3K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Or at least that was your intention, for his speed and dexterity quickly became apparent when your claws hit nothing but air.

Spider-Ben shouted something, but you couldn't hear it over the roar in your ears. Anger surged through you, flooding your body faster than your own mind could process it. Adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol; your nervous system activated your fight-or-flight response so quickly it made your head spin.

You spun quickly to throw a small grenade that opened at his feet with a loud twip! Soon, Spider-Ben was completely enveloped in golden webbing, your own organic formula, just a feet away from the Paralyzed Goblin.

You felt the impostor's hand on your shoulder and shook it off with a powerful kick. The man flew, somersaulted, and landed crouched on the pavement, his claws unsheathed as he glared at you.

You ran, throwing your nets at two streetlights behind him to propel yourself again, and landed hard against his forearms, locked in front of his face. You somersaulted in the air, and the man recovered quickly, landing two quick punches that you dodged by ducking, taking advantage of your smaller stature, and stepping into his guard to land a punch to his jaw.

You almost flinched, hurting his face, but the man gave you no time to regret your attacks. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed you by the throat and threw you over a vehicle across the street.

The air escaped your lungs with the hard landing. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a silver flash and instinctively turned away from the fist digging into the car window.

Your attention was briefly drawn to the anomalous watch on the impostor's wrist, and an impromptu plan began to form in your mind.

You stood up quickly. You raised your leg and delivered a kick that he quickly blocked with his arm. Your other leg came up and the knee to his stomach knocked him back a few steps, forcing him to duck to meet the hook to the stomach that you threw his way.

You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and slammed into him with your elbows as he grabbed you around the waist, tightened his grip, and lifted you into the air, slamming your back against the top of the vehicle. You coughed and almost shuddered at the feeling of your ribs cracking under the pressure.

Your hand shot out: and grabbing his forearm with both hands, you stood up, digging your claws into his arm and ripping the metal band that held the device fastened to his wrist.

The watch fell, open in your expectant palms. At his roar of protest, you delivered a hard headbutt to his nose, taking advantage of his brief recoil to aim your nets at a nearby building and escape with a powerful leap.

You tore through the air like a bullet, dodging buildings, antennas and drones as you alternately glided and swung between buildings. The fake Spider-Man followed you, matching your speed and showing an impressive agility in dodging the shots from your webs.

"Stop!" He shouted, and you were surprised to hear his voice closer than you expected. "You don't know what you're messing with!"

Your eyes landed on a familiar tower in the distance, and your swing gained more height as you prepared to climb the Alchemax building. If you could reach your office, you might be able to use the lock system to catch the intruder: you might even be able to use your spider drones, small robots the size of your fingernail, loaded with a substance analogous to your venom, which had hypnotic and sedative effects. You had not yet tested it on an enhanced being. However, if this individual possessed abilities similar to yours (as you were able to prove during the brief period of your pursuit), you were willing to give it a chance

A few feet from your office window, a red whip was wrapped around your ankle. You tried, in vain, to dig your claws into the rafters below your window, but the man tugged at his webs and managed to pull you abruptly away from the building.

The light of dawn peeked from behind the towering buildings. The man's suit glowed blue and his claws flashing, the tips of his curls dyed orange in the light of the new day, and as you fell and the world cracked around you, you wondered, distantly, if the Goblin' blast had actually reached you. If your body was still limp against the dirty street, and you were dead and this was really what heaven felt like.

Or in your case, hell. Though the only fire was the one burning in his red orbs, and you were deaf to the cries of the helpless because of your buzzing ears. Perhaps the wind stole the sound, or you were falling so fast that your eardrums never registered the voices of those you could not save.

You couldn't even save your own husband.

You failed to save Miguel.

That's why it was hard for you to understand why the hole in your world opened up under the tempestuous figure of your husband. What was he doing with his face, with his body, with his voice.

He even had the same accent. His rich voice, tripping over the "r"s and rolling them on his tongue like graceful fingers on the strings of a guitarrón, vibrating in his chest and lulling you to sleep as you rested against his naked form. With every sweet murmur he would open the doors of Conchata's kitchen for you. With his accent, he would welcome you to his world, to the beautiful corners of his childhood.

That voice, now screaming behind your back, overcame your wandering imagination: how it sounded when it growled at you as it evaded the shots of your nets. How it sounded when it called you Mi amor.

You closed your eyes, recoiling from the dreamlike vision, and threw a net onto a balcony behind you, slowing the impact of your fall to finally land rolling hard against the roof of a building

You shook off the impact with a grunt. Your fingers wrapped around the watch, and you heard, before you saw him, the man landing crouched behind your back.

"Stop." You warned, shaking the watch in your hands.

"I know you must be confused." He began, and you felt the soothing tone of his words as you watched the shadow on the ground of his outstretched hands. "It will be easier for both of us if you allow me to explain."

You felt the burning sting of tears, and clenched your fists as you exhaled a shaky breath. How dare he...

Your mask receded, the technology shrinking to reveal your low bun; the locks escaping their confines to frame your contracted face.

How could he know...

How long it took you to stop making dinner for two. How hard it was to get used to not seeing his chanclas in the driveway. To not listening to soccer games on the TV every Sunday. To stop waiting for his arms around your waist while you worked in your apartment office. His coffee and brown sugar flavored kisses, his rough hands, the smell of cologne and shaving cream on your pillow.

After him... you slowly began to distance yourself from the family. You stopped attending backyard barbecues with los tíos. Missed calls from Conchata piled up on your voicemail. You spend every Christmas alone, in your lab, with only a snow globe hologram on the corner of your desk.

What would this... anomalous being that so easily wore the face of your best friend know? Your best confidant. The man who made you laugh, who carried tampons and painkillers in his briefcase one week out of every month. Your lab partner, your most brilliant colleague. The madman who shared your wry sense of humor.

"It's too soon." You whispered to his calm face. Staring at his pale features, his blue lips and glassy eyes. "We haven't even had time to start a family, my love."

You thought about your future plans. Your prestigious positions at Alchemax had afforded you a spacious, three-bedroom apartment, a few blocks from your workplace, and with excellent access to schools and hospitals. You thought about how you would have adjusted the months of your maternity leave: how happy Miguel would have been to name his son after his brother Gabriel. Would he have had his chocolate curls, his tanned complexion, his strong jaw?

Or would she have been like you? A daddy's girl, with bright eyes and untamed waves? Would she have shared your love for science? Would she have watched her own little biome grow in a glass bowl by her window? Or would she have played soccer with her dad, while you cheered from the stands in the distance?

The metal of the clock creaked under the powerful grip of your claws. You watched, eyes bright with unshed tears, the man's alert posture, his hands clenched into fists and his muscles contracted, ready to continue his contest.

Then, suddenly, the man became as silent and motionless as a stone.

The faint glow of morning broke through over your head, and in its light, Miguel saw your face for the first time. He beheld your stony expression: your tight lips, your rosy face and your red eyes, and his hands fell limply at his sides as all his resolve crumbled like fine sand under the slow fluttering of your wet eyelashes.

His knees gave way, and the man fell under the powerful spell of your gaze. The seconds dragged on, and he remained so; motionless and silent before your hoodless figure, illuminated by the morning sun, unable to look away from your stormy expression.

"Miguel O'Hara is dead." You said, and it was easy to hear the pain deeply rooted in your words. "He died in a sabotaged experiment at the hands of his own employer: his DNA was damaged beyond repair."

And Miguel heard your words, and saw himself as in a broken mirror, distorted by misfortune, and shrank from what he saw.

"And you appear before me, bearing his face, through an atypical portal with the intention of 'capturing' the creature I subdued on my own, claiming to be Spider-Man from another universe."

Sparks landed on your fingers, and a beep sounded from the watch clenched between your claws.

"How convenient." You growled.

"I know you." He finally said, one of his hands outstretched, but it seemed to waver between the watch and your face. "Long ago... I knew you. And your memory remains in my mind like an old dream."

"How can I believe you?" you asked. In the distance, the horizon turned blue, and you considered your present circumstances, superior to the dream of your senses.

"Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). You studied at a school for gifted young people, where you graduated with honors. Soon after you went into genetic engineering, and got a good position at Alchemax after impressing Tyler Stone with your degree thesis on germline gene therapy. " He told you. You gritted your teeth at the generic information. Your academic and professional history was public knowledge.

You opened your mouth, but he continued, "On your first day at Alchemax, you arrived three hours early because you miscalculated the distances and wanted to make a good first impression. No one was there. You sat with the guard in the lobby until your colleagues started arriving, two hours later."

You froze, and looked at him with your mouth still open as he continued, "From then on, you sit on your couch and watch nature documentaries to make time before you leave, because even though you can estimate time well now, you can't break the habit of getting up too early before work."

"You like the smell of damp soil. You always open the windows, ever so slightly, to let the cold air come in and flood your living room with the scent of petrichor."

"Wait." You erupted, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

"You brush your hair in the shower, because you say that your conditioner works better that way and you get rid of knots easier."

"How do you know that?" you snapped, feeling a treacherous blush creep up your neck and over your ears.

His words poured out like water from a broken dam. His voice avalanched, and his accent thickened, "You enjoy cursing in Spanish, but you don't do it because you think it makes you look unprofessional in front of your colleagues."

"You have your mother's eyes, and your father's skin tone. Your birthdays make you feel melancholic, and you enjoy Christmas but are sad when it's over. You sleep with a very cold room temperature so you can cover yourself with more blankets."

"Enough!" you scream, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears with your hands. The clock pressed against your temple, the beeping vibrating against your sweaty skin. "I won't listen to your lies! I was there... Miguel died in my arms. You can't be…"

"I know it's hard to understand." He whispered, and his husky voice sounded thick and diffident. "Why I am here...escapes my comprehension. This dimension remained hidden from my radar until the anomaly attack tonight."

The man ducked his head, exhaled a shaky sigh, and looked at you, and you finally met his stormy gaze head-on.

"But... if you could allow me to show you, you will understand that this situation is as unusual for me as it is for you. "

Perhaps it happened that a shadow of prescience clouded your judgment. For gradually you found yourself letting down your guard and allowing his tall, impetuous figure to approach you, with slow, premeditated steps, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"Lyla." He said, when he finally was standing just inches from your rigid figure.

The watch in your hand came to life with a slight uncertain flicker:

"For one solid moment I thought you would let me be reduced to pieces." An AI appeared over your shoulder, her plush arms crossed in front of her chest and her rose-colored glasses glinting with disappointment.

She turned to look at you, and you managed to see her doing a double take that would have been comical had it not been interrupted by the man:

"Help me, please." He said. The AI seemed to catch his stern tone, because she nodded softly and, with a flutter of vaporous hands, opened a hexagonal door into the space in front of you.

Colors, again, swirled in bright reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. The loose pebbles on the ceiling rattled, and you jumped when you felt the man's soft hand touch yours.

Instinctively, you gripped his wrist tightly. The man looked at your firm grip, but didn't flinch at the claws that grazed the inside of his wrist. Instead, he allowed you to cling to him as he carried you through the hole in your dimension.

As you stepped through the portal, you wondered if the colorful pulses rippling before your eyes were remnants of a vast infinite fractal, a mosaic of distinct pocket universes separated by an inflationary ocean that would swallow you up like night swallows the sun. Or would your physical form then be absorbed, never to be observed again, your immaterial silhouette trapped in an event horizon, vulnerable to the gravitational pull of universes larger and heavier than yours?

It didn't happen. You appeared on a sprawling metallic surface, inside what appeared to be an office, very... similar to your own at Alchemax.

"Lyla. Do the thing." He called. And you watched as the room around you was replaced by a dark pulse that left you standing in the middle of an empty space.

A drop of light fell from the air, and slowed its descent right in front of your face. "Here... lies everything."

The drop fell to the ground, and formed a hexagonal sling that illuminated the space in a trace that diverged in several directions, like the leaves of a Ficus Elastica. And then it disappeared, replaced by a... spider web woven over the ceiling, above the floors and covering everything around you.

"All of us... all of our lives come together here. In this complex web." His irises reflected red light as he spoke, "It's what we call the Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse."

You spun on your feet, immersed in the grandeur of the scene before your eyes.

"So, it's true... the universes are superimposed one on top of the other." You said, and he nodded.

"And those universes are what shape reality."

He caught your gaze, lost in a mirror of unfolding events at the center of one of the nodes, and continued:

"That's where our destinies converge. These nodes...are the canonical events. Events that are part of all our histories, that bind our worlds together."

You contemplated the anomalous figure of the masked hero depicted on the grid. So strange, yet so familiar, with their arms wrapped around an inert male figure against the concrete.

"My job is to protect the multiverse from threats like the Green Goblin, who challenge the integrity of what keeps our realities whole."

You closed your eyes, looking away from the kaleidoscope of images around you, but behind your eyelids impertinent images played. You saw yourself, your face furrowed with despair as you watched your husband fading away. You remembered the cold as the dreary rain fell on your dark figure on the roof of the church where Tyler Stone's body was guarded. Finally you opened them again with a new stern frown. You thought, tried to reason, and considered your ideas again, dissociating your feelings with the grace of one versed in the ways of the scientific method.

That means... there are different versions of you in different quantum branches. And they are constantly creating new unfoldings of you: "I don't understand. Would this mean that it is not each version of yourself that shares the same common past, but the unique version of each of the Spider People? A similar origin, but one that has a different future ahead of it."

You ran your hands over your face, and cupped your lips with your fingers as you murmured to yourself, "And yet, the subsequent histories in each of the branches coexist simultaneously in the sprawling thread of webs that connect them."

"Observation changes the observed." You imagined his voice, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm body pressed against yours.

You clenched your fists at the phantom vision and contemplated the scrutinizing gaze of the man beside you.

"How long have you known all this?" you finally asked.

"A few years." He replied curtly.

"And this artifact allows you to jump between dimensions?" you pointed out, waving the poor, misshapen watch between your fingers.

"It's a gizmo." He corrected you. And he held out his hands as you dropped the battered device into his palms.

He squared his shoulders. You looked at him, erect in all his majestic height, his face mostly stoic, except for his tight lips, for that melancholy dip at the corners of his mouth; sad as greatness. And finally you heard him:

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, and I am the Spider-Man of universe 928. I have dedicated myself to protecting the fragile fabric of reality, safeguarding the integrity of the nodes that connect our worlds and offering my life in exchange for the fate of the multiverse."

"I come from a different reality. I met you in a world where you were not Spider-Woman... And in that world, just as in yours, I loved you, and you loved me."

Her hands caressed the covered skin of your arms, and descended to brush your stiff hands, your long claws, your empty palms.

"And in that world... I lost you."

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps

#marvel #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #oscar isaac #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #across the spiderverse #atvs #into the spider verse

220 notes · View notes

wedesignyouny · 10 months ago

Text

Elevate Your Brand with Vehicle Wrap Services by New York Printers: TruArt Sign Co.

Introduction:

In the bustling streets of New York City, standing out from the crowd is essential for businesses to make a lasting impression. One powerful yet often overlooked advertising medium is custom vehicle graphics and wraps. Transforming your vehicles into mobile billboards can significantly boost brand visibility and create a lasting impact on potential customers. In this blog post, we'll delve into the benefits of investing in custom vehicle graphics by New York printers and introduce you to TruArt Sign Co., the experts in vehicle wraps & graphics NYC, ready to take your brand to new heights.

The Impact of Custom Vehicle Graphics:

1.1 Mobile Advertising: Reaching a Wider Audience

1.2 Brand Consistency: Reinforcing Your Identity

1.3 Attention-Grabbing Designs: Making Heads Turn

Introducing TruArt Sign Co. - Your Go-To Source for Vehicle Wraps & Graphics NYC:

2.1 Unparalleled Printing Expertise and Experience

2.2 State-of-the-Art Equipment: Delivering Excellence

2.3 A Creative Team with a Flair for Innovation

The Range of Vehicle Graphics and Wraps Offered:

3.1 Full Vehicle Wraps: Complete Brand Transformation

3.2 Partial Wraps: Strategic Impact with Cost-Effectiveness

3.3 Custom Graphics: Tailored Solutions for Every Business

Why Choose TruArt Sign Co. for Your Vehicle Graphics:

4.1 Consultation and Design Support: Capturing Your Vision

4.2 Premium Quality Materials and Installation

4.3 Durability and Resistance to Weather Elements

Maximizing Brand Exposure with Mobile Advertising:

5.1 The Advantages of Vehicle Graphics in NYC

5.2 Targeting Specific Demographics and Locations

5.3 Tracking Success: Measuring the Impact of Your Campaign

Showcasing Success Stories:

6.1 Real-Life Examples: Businesses Thriving with Vehicle Wraps

6.2 Testimonials from Satisfied Clients

Environmentally-Friendly Vehicle Graphics Solutions:

7.1 TruArt Sign Co.'s Commitment to Eco-Conscious Practices

7.2 Sustainable Materials and Printing Techniques

Conclusion:

In the fast-paced and competitive landscape of New York City, custom vehicle graphics can be the game-changer for your brand's visibility. TruArt Sign Co., with its unmatched expertise in vehicle wraps & graphics, is dedicated to helping your business capture attention and leave a lasting impression on potential customers. From full vehicle wraps that transform your fleet into moving masterpieces to eye-catching custom graphics, TruArt Sign Co.'s creative team and state-of-the-art equipment ensure that your brand shines on the city's streets. Embrace the power of mobile advertising and partner with TruArt Sign Co. to elevate your brand with top-tier custom vehicle graphics in NYC.

Tru-Art Sign Co Inc.

📍 : 187 N Main St Freeport , NY 11520

📍 : Other Locations: New York City, NY Albany, NY

📞 Main: (516) 378-0066 📠 Fax: (516) 378-0175 📞 New York City: (718) 658-5068 📞 Albany, NY: (518) 487-4157

📧 : [email protected]

🌎 : https://www.truartsignco.com/

#Vehicle Wrap services NYC #Vehicle Wraps in new york city #New York City Signs & Awnings

2 notes · View notes

bijouxcarys · 5 months ago

Text

Ties That Bind - PROLOGUE TEASER

Okay, this story is in no way, shape or form ready for release yet. But I'm interested in what you all think about what I have as the working prologue at the moment. Will eventually go through some editing, but I need to know it's worth it to keep going!

(This is a mafia AU)

It wasn’t hard to miss the trail of black SUVs cruising down the rain-slicked streets of New York City. While passersby made their way home from work, they could only envy the lucky bastards who owned such a vehicle. Not that they could see inside it, of course. Its passengers were completely cloaked in shadows.

“Man, you always got the best tunes, Uce,” Jimmy said as he fiddled with the radio, a grin playing on his lips. He settled on an old-school hip-hop station.

Roman smirked. “Gotta keep the vibe right, y’know? Can’t go into business all tense and shit.”

In the backseat, Jey was stretched out, his eyes closed and his head nodding to the beat. “You think this deal’s gonna go smooth?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“Better,” Roman replied. “We ain’t got time for no drama tonight.”

Jimmy glanced at his cousin. “You hear anything about Dimitri? Anything we should know?”

Roman shook his head. “Just the usual. Volkov’s always lookin’ to expand his empire. This deal’s big for him too. So, let’s just handle our business and get out.”

They drove in comfortable silence, the city’s neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, creating a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the sleek surface of the car. Roman felt a sense of calm with his family close, a rare moment of peace before the storm of their criminal world.

It wasn’t much longer before they pulled into the decrepit warehouse, its once imposing structure now a crumbling relic of the past. Roman killed the engine, and they stepped out, their breaths instantly visible in the cold night air.

Wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm, Jey took in the sight in front of him. “Damn, this place down real bad… There even a point of goin’ inside? Shit looks icy in there, Uce.”

“We’re going inside,” Roman responded through a chuckle, signalling to do just that. “Can you handle a little cold for ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?!” Jey groaned, trailing behind Roman and Jimmy.

“He just mad ‘cause the chill makes Little Jey all shrivelled and shit,” Jimmy teased with a cackle that bounced off the vacant walls of the warehouse.

Roman just shook his head in amusement. Never a dull moment with the Usos around, that’s for sure. It would make the wait more bearable.

That’s the part of these deals Roman hated the most: the waiting. And the twins’ constant back and forth only relieved the restless stretch of time to a degree before he became impatient.

Roman stood in the shadows, his keen eyes scanning the darkened surroundings for the tenth time tonight. This was supposed to be a simple handoff, a straightforward deal. But something about the stillness in the air, the silence that seemed too deep, set his nerves on edge.

“This place gives me the creeps, Uce. What’s takin’ ‘em so long?” Jimmy muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Patience,” Roman replied steadily. “They’ll be here.”

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the silence. Headlights pierced through the darkness, and a convoy of black SUVs—not too indifferent from their own—pulled up, their engines purring ominously. Roman straightened, signalling his men to stay alert. The doors of the leading car opened, revealing the brooding figure they had been expecting, illuminated briefly by the interior light.

“Dimitri,” Roman greeted, extending a hand. The Russian took it, his grip firm and cold.

“Roman,” Dimitri responded, his Slavic accent thick and voice as rough as gravel. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Roman lied smoothly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Dimitri motioned to his men, who began unloading crates from the vehicles. Roman watched them carefully, his senses on high alert. The deal was for a shipment of weapons—high-grade, military-issue. It was a big score for both sides, provided everything went according to plan.

“So, where’s the money?” Dimitri asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Roman.

“Right here,” Roman nodded to Jey, who stepped forward with a heavy duffel bag. He unzipped it, revealing stacks of cash, neatly bundled and undeniably real.

Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Excellent.”

As the exchange began, Roman felt the buzzing of his phone from within his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing down at the screen, half-expecting it to be another message from Maria, telling him more of what he did wrong this week.

Boy, was he wrong.

Unknown Number at 22:47 IT’S A TRAP GET OUT NOW

His blood ran cold. Roman looked up, meeting Jey’s eyes and giving a barely perceptible nod. They had been set up.

“Is there a problem?” Dimitri asked, noticing the change in Roman’s demeanour.

“No problem,” he replied coolly. “Just a little change in plans.”

“Oh?” Dimitri tilted his chin up, an attempt to face up to the hulking 6ft 3 stature of the Samoan in front of him.

“Yeah,” Roman smiled with a nonchalant shrug. “Ya know how it is, man…” His facial expression dropped from jovial to flat-out frigid. “Plans… change. Nei, tama.”

Before Dimitri could react, the air erupted with the sound of gunfire. Roman’s men sprang into action, drawing their weapons and taking cover. The Volkovs were equally prepared, and the warehouse transformed into a battlefield.

“Move it!” Roman barked, pushing Jey and Jimmy towards cover. He ducked behind a stack of crates, firing at the Volkovs as he went. The sound was deafening, the flashes of gunfire illuminating the chaos.

“Dammit, Roman, what’s goin’ on?!” Jimmy yelled over the noise, returning fire.

“Someone tipped us off. We need to get outta here!” Roman shouted back, taking down a Volkov soldier who got far too close for his liking.

Through the haze of smoke and chaos, Roman saw Dimitri retreating, barking orders at his men. It was clear the Russian had no intention of staying to see how the fight played out. Roman’s jaw tightened. This was supposed to be a simple deal, but now it was an all-out war.

“Fall back!” Roman ordered. “Get to the cars!”

His men began to retreat, covering each other as they moved. The Volkovs pressed the attack, but Roman’s team was disciplined, their movements coordinated. They reached the cars, engines roaring to life as they sped away from the warehouse.

Roman’s heart pounded as he glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the warehouse fade into the distance.

“This is bad, atali’i,” Sika said, turning to face Roman. “Real bad.”

Back at the Reigns family compound, the atmosphere was tense. Roman’s father, stood by the window, had just endured Jimmy’s entire recount of the night’s events with a grim expression.

“I know, Pops,” Roman replied, his voice steady but his eyes burning with anger. “But we’ll find out who did this and why. And we’ll make ‘em pay.”

Sika nodded. “We need to be careful. Whoever set this up knew exactly how to hit us. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

Roman glanced around the room at his family, his blood, his soldiers. They were all looking to him for direction, for a plan. And he had one. But first, they needed more information.

“Jimmy, Jey,” he said, turning to his cousins. “We need to tighten security. No one gets in or out without us knowing about it. And I want you to start asking questions. Discreetly. Find out who knew about the deal and who could have tipped off the Volkovs.”

The twins nodded, their faces as serious as ever; they knew the stakes as well as he did.

“Solo,” Roman continued, addressing the twins’ younger brother. “I need you to keep an eye on Ava. From a distance, I can’t give that… strega another thing to hold over my head.”

Solo nodded, his demeanour always as cold as the North. “I got this.”

As his family dispersed to carry out their orders, Roman turned back to Sika. “We need to get answers. Fast. Someone’s playing both sides.”

Sika’s eyes hardened. “And when we find them?”

Roman’s expression was frozen with vengeance. “We make the motherfucker regret they ever stepped foot on my turf.”

This was more than a betrayal; it was a declaration of war.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fic #fanfiction #wwe fanfiction

50 notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Note

to the halloween queen, i hope this october is treating you well!! i was wondering if i could request a gut wrenching, angsty fic with billy based on paramore’s sanity?

if i call out your name, you don’t come/

no one home, but the void is loud/

echoes around my empty house/

sentences are slowing down

in all honesty, i don’t have many specifics in mind. i was thinking of an established relationship slowly but surely growing apart. to the point they eat dinner in silence, the distance between them whilst sleeping in the same bed grows more and more…in other words, i am asking you to break my heart!

i go by she/her pronouns and they can be used!

<3 thank you, take care, and ily <3

oh my darling sweet nonnie, you definitely came to the right place. I hope october has been kind to you, bc i'm about to break your heart as requested. i'll be here with tissues afterwards 🖤

warning: swearing, slight mention of alcohol, heavy angst word count: 1.4k

sanity.

no one home, but the void is loud / echoes around my empty house

The white noise of bustling traffic was muffled by the dull roar of an icy midnight breeze slowly fading in the background. Through the grand floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, you could see brilliant lights twinkling in a kaleidoscope of colors, vehicles zipping by in a flash in various directions, and masses of people navigating the city by heart. Outside, New York City was clamoring proudly with life.

But in the emptiness of the penthouse, it was so silent and still that the sound of fresh snow hitting the glass was as loud as thunder cracking across the sky.

In a place that more than three million people called home, you had never felt more alone. Standing in front of the expansive windows with the chill radiating through the glass nipping at your nose and cheeks, you felt completely numb and simultaneously like an open wound at the same time. It didn’t always feel this cold.

Last year at this exact same time, this place still felt like home. You could still feel the heat from the flames dancing in the fireplace licking at your skin while the golden glow of the fire created a warm and comforting ambiance in the living room. You could still taste the richness of hot cocoa caressing your tongue, and still hear the sound of Billy’s heartbeat playing in your ear while your head rested on his chest as the two of you admired the tree you had put up together from the couch. Billy had insisted on going all out since he had never really celebrated the holidays before due to growing up in the system.

In a moment of sincere vulnerability while you were teaching him your special recipe for chocolate chip cookies, Billy had revealed to you that you were the first person he’d ever had to make the holidays feel special. It had been such a big deal to him to make sure everything was perfect, and it made your heart swell like a balloon in your rib cage seeing the childlike happiness on his face as the two of you celebrated together.

That special time now felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, there was only the scent of stale ash in the fireplace, and the absence of Billy’s holiday spirit lingering along the mantle and in the corner of the living room.

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. Billy no longer stopped by your work because he was “in the neighborhood” and just wanted to see you. Conversations became shorter and shorter at dinner until it reached the point of the two of you eating in deafening silence, and then ultimately you found yourself eating alone. Billy no longer wrapped himself around you in bed like a security blanket, and instead you found an ocean between you that kept growing wider and wider until you were stranded in the middle of it alone struggling to keep your head above water. He began to travel more, spent longer hours at the office, and lately would go days without speaking to you at all.

There was no more playful banter and flirtatious teasing in crowded spaces. It had been five months since you and Billy had gone on an actual date, and he had barely touched you in three. On the rare occasion that he made it home at a decent hour, he ignored your passionate advances and locked himself away in his home office. You and Billy used to not be able to keep your hands off one another, and now you couldn’t even get him to give you a simple peck on the cheek. You couldn’t even remember the last time that he had told you he loved you.

For the past few months, there was a heavy sense of grief weighing on your heart like liquid cement almost as if Billy had died. He would appear suddenly, and then vanish right before your eyes even quicker like an apparition. He barely acknowledged your presence when you called out to him, as if you were the ghost lingering around. The last time you had reached for his hand, it was cold and stiff like that of a corpse. You fought defiantly against the stage of acceptance and refused to admit to yourself that your relationship was decaying in the grave. Instead you remained stubbornly stuck in a purgatory of mourning for the Billy you had fallen in love with, feeling haunted by your own foolish hope and his lingering presence in your heart.

Denial plagued you for months as you frantically tried everything to resuscitate the pulse in your relationship. You changed your hair a few times and put more effort into your outfits and appearance, which consistently went unnoticed by Billy. You planned romantic dates and elaborate getaway trips that he instantly declined. The past three times you had attempted to surprise him at the office for lunch, you couldn’t even get past his receptionist.

Most nights you spent alone, drowning in your own agony, screaming and sobbing at the stars for answers because Billy wasn’t there to provide them. In moments of over indulgence from the built in bar, you nearly gave into your desperation and participated in the reckless thoughts intrusively entering your head that you were absolutely sure would capture Billy’s attention. But then the epiphany that you felt like you had to put yourself in a dangerous situation just for him to notice you again would shatter your soul into a thousand jagged pieces.

Had you done something to make Billy become so distant? Was he going through something he felt he couldn’t talk to you about? Did he love you at all anymore? Was there someone else?

That last question made you violently nauseous. The not knowing what was happening with Billy drove you absolutely fucking mad, and you tried every method you could think of to stop the hemorrhaging to salvage what the two of you had.

But eventually, the weight of the blood staining your hands was impossible to ignore, and the tone of a flatline rang loudly in your ears. The heaviness you felt was a clear sign that there was no longer life left in what you and Billy had created together, and the warm thrum of a pulse would never be found again.

You didn’t bother to tell Billy that you were leaving. The eulogy had already been engraved on the headstone months ago, you just couldn’t bring yourself to read it. Taking one last glance around the penthouse that had been your shared home, all you could think about was the day you first moved in. Everything had looked so bright, felt so warm and inviting, and Billy had been ecstatic to share a home with you. He had told you that you were what made the place feel like home, and in a moment of candor entrusted you with the sentiment of how happy it made him to finally have someone to come home to.

But now as you stood in the middle of the living room in the dark, it just felt cold and empty. Billy had been gone for two weeks on a business trip and was supposed to return home tomorrow, but this time you wouldn’t be there waiting by the door to welcome him back. After finally finding the strength to face the heartbreaking truth of your reality, you had spent the past twenty-four hours removing every trace of your existence. There was only one last thing to erase.

The devastating loss had left your heart maimed, and the memories of Billy’s touch afflicted phantom bruises onto your skin. It was time to tend to your own wounds and mend the parts of you that had been broken by him. After one final look around, you placed the handcrafted engagement ring on the kitchen island like a rose on a coffin as a silent goodbye and quietly disappeared into the depths of midnight.

tags: @nolita-fairytale @thyme-in-a-bubble @mars-rants-a-lot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @topperthornton

#billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo fic #billy russo request

147 notes · View notes

xappetites · 7 months ago

Text

jouissance (3)

Phillip Graves x Reader | Phillip feels himself shifting, the way it happens when he starts to think of something as his. Like he's pacing the edge of the property, keeping what belongs to him under his watchful eye, by his side. Ready to gore whatever thinks they can take it from him. | word count: 1,688

Someone has done wrong by his wife, Phillip can tell. Even if all she does is look real surprised when she walks away from baggage claim and sees him there waiting for her.

It’s the same eyes she gave him when he got her the ring, like she never expected it; which makes it startlingly clear that she’s been made to think she’s not worth the trouble. And she’s thought that for long enough that she has no issue depending on only herself.

And it should be one more flash of good luck for him, all things considered. It’d be far easier to live his life not putting in effort that isn’t expected of him, but the thought hits him dead in the pride.

His wife should never be pitied for it. It should be something to envy, belonging to him. No one’s going to look at his senator’s girl like they look at Marnie, no one would ever call his girl ‘abnegate’ like they do to his mother. So, of course it bothers him; enough to have him licking an orgasm out of her on the backseat of his truck, in the middle of the airport parking lot, while she giggles out something about getting arrested for indecent exposure. And he laughs into her cunt, drags a hint of teeth over her clit just to see her flinch because this is by far the tamest illegal shit he’s done these past few weeks.

She doesn’t know that, though. Phil’s frankly not sure she even knows the full extent of what he does for a living, beyond the fact that it’s vaguely military related and it sometimes takes him down to shithole places for months at the time.

She knows it was the reason they didn’t have a honeymoon; which then gave her an excuse to abscond back to New York for a month.

And Phillip, he doesn’t have the healthiest impression of marriage, he’s aware. He’s met enough married shadows that get the jitters as soon as they touch down at home base, aching to get back to their spouses, to realize that the way his father and Pete gripe about their wives isn’t the norm.

But Phil didn’t really imagine himself one way or the other, before feeling the itching under his skin to just wrap up a nice little win as fast as possible; when he couldn’t still the bouncing of his leg through typing out his mission report. Not before this last week he spent on his own in the new house.

Maybe it’s because it is new, but it’s fucking barren. The long silence after a fight he didn’t win. There’s no hair in the drains to complain about, no overspill of beauty products on the bathroom counter. None of the things he’s seen in her apartment in the city: the book haphazardly thrown on the couch and the spices standing at attention by the stove, like a splinter cell from the army of jars on the rack.

It should be unsettling to want it, should feel out of character, but Phillip’s too used to noise to be comfortable in that tomb of a house. He’s right at home in the constant din of people around him, and he happens to really like the noises she makes.

The breathless little thing she groans out as she tugs on his hair, the singing under her breath while she redresses herself —in that way that makes him wanna keep her in bed all day. All those sounds she’s keeping just out of his reach by refusing to stay in town.

“You don’t like the house?”

He breaches the topic as soon as he merges onto the highway, with a hand splayed possessive over her thigh. It’s about as subtle as a tank, bulldozing over the bore of late friday night traffic; and it makes her straighten in the passenger seat where she’s leaning back, boneless, save for the wrist hanging out the window so the smoke of her cigarette falls mostly away from the vehicle.

Phil watches like a hawk; follows each little shift in her expression, looking for the denial, the excuses. He gets a burst of embarrassed laughter instead.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it? It’s so quiet.”

“Well we haven’t been in it to make it noisy, have we?”

This time her laugh is a little higher, breathy and surprised. She reaches for his hand, teasing her fingertips over the endless little white lines of scar scattered across his knuckles; and she takes advantage of the gridlock to lean in and speak right into the skin of his neck.

“This place is so fucking boring when you’re not around.”

…

The Graves are a good, southern, God fearing family; they go to church every Sunday, they say their prayers before every meal. And they bless every single calf less than half an hour after the poor things first lay eyes on this world.

Phillip— isn’t. He can’t stand the smell of incense, he’s spent too many hours counting the floor tiles as their pastor droned on about loving thy neighbor and he’s never felt God out in the field with him. Not that he has any need for it, when he can rely on himself and his shadows.

But god damn, if this girl wasn’t heaven sent with a pretty bow and his fucking name on the tag.

He feels it in his bones with a certainty so deep it aches, bent over her in the stupid walk in closet neither of them cared about but it’s quickly proving itself a necessity. Or maybe that’s just his orgasm crawling like fire up his spine, feeling her tighten around him everytime he catches her eyes through the ridiculously big mirror. Perhaps it’s the sight of her dripping with him, his inside and out. Or the way it takes none of the cajoling he’d braced himself for, to convince her to come meet the shadows on base.

“Give me a baseline here. What are they expecting? Marilyn or Jackie?”

Her voice comes loud, so he can hear her all the way in the en-suite from where he left her starfished on the bed, chattering away with that manic sort of energy spike she gets when the sex is really good.

Phil considers it for a second, watches her stretch like a cat towards him as soon as she lays eyes on him, and she shines in the shared petty joy of performing a different version of themselves, keeping their soft bellies out of reach.

But he doesn’t like the thought of her playing stupid for the Shadows. He doesn’t want to put on a show for them; hell, just imagining it makes him move to grab her, scrambling over the bed until she’s giggling under him; putting weight on her before she’s lost, drifting too far from him.

She grins, assuming that Phil’s reaction comes from the impulse to mark his territory, which in a way it is. He’s simply taken by the humiliating notion that he wants every man under his charge to know this is true, for there to not be a single doubt that this woman loves him. The Shadows aren’t like Pete, or his parents, they’re trained to mind the details and pinpoint weaknesses; if they catch even the slightest clue that this is an arrangement , he doesn’t doubt they’ll mock him over the comms channels he has no business being in. Or worse, they’ll pity him.

“Would that make me JFK?”

It’s a joke, but it makes her smile falter. And she drags the pad of her thumb over the scar on his cheek. Staring at him for a second of silence that feels significant in a way he can’t put into words.

“Won’t wear pink, then.”

…

The Shadows are on their best behavior, which in fairness, isn’t strange. Phil isn’t training animals, he’s beating excellence into himself and whoever chooses to trust him with their talent. Besides, this meeting —after his wife’s no pink, no heels, no pearls, entrance— is a smaller affair. Team Leaders only. The men he trusts to make this request of.

“Alright, I know there’s been rumors,” some shadows laugh, some roll their eyes, which Phillip hopes it’s enough to loosen the tension of a dozen well trained, deadly people in a crowded office, no matter how comparatively big it is. “And I’m aware y’all have better things to do than minding my businesses, but I thought I’d bring the missus over to meet you lot.”

His girl shifts behind him, Phil catches it out of the corner of his eye, holding his gaze through the reflection on a window. Deliberate, where she knows he can see her, as intimate as the pinky she brushes against his hand.

“And I want you to get familiar with this pretty face, ‘cause I’m gonna need you to make her top priority, in case anything happens to me.”

Phil waits for a few nods from the shadows, as they collectively watch his wife’s microexpressions. Covertly as their training allows. The way she narrows her eyes at the back of his head, burning a hole through him, her body twisting infinitesimally to better face him; and her subtle point of touch that becomes her full palm against his, so Phillip has the chance to hold on firmly to her hand.

“Vance, you and your team know what to do. The rest of you will receive instructions if necessary.”

The shadows can tell when they’re dismissed, so they break lines with the usual callout, moving in pairs and threes and single file out the door until his office is quiet. And then Phil can turn to see her, waiting for the questions he saw forming across her face in real time but never come.

She just pulls him flush against her, slowly —the gentlest she’s ever been with him—, and she kisses him until he’s tugging at her clothes and panting out her name into the mid summer heat, barely audible under the constant hum of the air conditioning.

#m: cod #r: smut #phillip graves x reader #personal #reader is v much: do you ever make a legally blonde inspired joke to your fake (you love him) husband and realize with stark clarity #that he’s in constant mortal danger? in this

32 notes · View notes