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rae-writes · 10 months ago

Text

OnlyFantoms???

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (mammon, satan), panties/lingere wearing (satan, asmo), online sharing

synopsis : lets see what the latest trending porn videos are

dateables/sides ver. || being asked about it in a livestream

Your legs are spread open for the camera, hooked over your boyfriend’s with no chance of closing them, while his hand is shoved down the front of your bottoms. The other roams your body— sliding up your shirt and wrapping around your throat. Your arms are clearly straining themselves as they hold your body up, all so you could rock your hips against Lucifer’s fingers; though the view is covered by your clothes, the slick sounds are all too clear, giving away how aroused you really were. When your arms finally give out and you fall back against his chest, there’s a shift in the air that you can practically feel as his bicep flexes under the fabric of his shirt, free arm yanking you up higher on his lap so he can finger you harder. Over the sound of your moans and cries for him to ‘please let me cum, been s’good for you, please please please’, you can hear Lucifer’s signature low chuckle and the faint sound of his shaky breathing before he’s giving you permission, outright laughing when you squeal and jerk in his grasp. His hand slips from your bottoms, and though his face isn’t in frame, it’s clear he’s licking your cum off his fingers right before the video cuts off.

Good grades get rewarded | 0:45 seconds | 108.k views | 100.k likes | 97.k comments

Lucifer?!

Hand cam hand cam hand cam

Dude, isn’t Mc a straight A student? THIS IS WHAT THEY GET FOR EVERY A??

I’d good grades too if I had the morning star behind me like this

^I’d get good grades if I could have Mc in my lap like this tf

†

Panting and moaning fill the dim atmosphere, mixing in with the faint sound of slapping skin as large hands push and pull at your hips. The camera is positioned only to catch your lower bodies, but through the dark you can still catch the bobbing of Mammon’s adams apple and the curve of your mouth as you place kisses along his jaw. His grip on your hips makes your skirt ride up higher and higher, showing more and more slivers of skin until your entire ass is on display. There’s a shine- the mix of your cum and his- everytime he pulls you up, only to disappear with a filthy ‘shlick’ as he yanks you back down onto his cock. There’s a natural haze to the lens and the windows are entirely fogged up— sweat is beading and rolling down his exposed chest, showing you’ve been at this much longer before the recording ever started. By now, the second born has started emitting whiny growls as he switches to grinding you and the audio picks up a nearly inaudible choked out version of your name before his arms are circling around you and he’s lifting you up slightly with his last thrust. It’s quiet as you pet his hair while he’s busy massaging your waist- and then you're reaching over to grab the camera with a giggle, angling it to see the mess you’ve both made over your clothes. There’s a hushed ‘Lucifer’s gonna kill us-!’ before the screen goes black.

Greed is the name of the game | 2:45 minutes | 95.k views | 91.k likes | 86.k comments

A Y O???

PLS mammon sounded so hot

I don’t know who I’m jealous of or who I’d rather be rn

I wanna be the car

Come get y’all’s dinner, we’re eating good toDAY

†

The pretty lighting of the fish tank washes over you, highlighting the red scratch lines trailing down Levi’s abdomen to where you’re placing kisses along his hips and pelvis. The sounds are a bit exaggerated- both to make the demon squirm in embarrassment- and because you’ve got the hood of his jacket thrown up to cover your face. Levi’s got his arms pressed close to his chest, hands gripping the controller so hard the plastic creaks every so often; you can hear the shooting from his game and the frantic mashing of buttons. When you finally take his cock in your mouth, seen by your head bobbing at a fast pace, a loud moan rips from his throat and his hips begin thrusting against your ministrations. The room is filled with whines and whimpers, begs to ‘please go faster’, and your amused laughing. There’s a distinct pop when you pull off his cock and replace your mouth with your hand, all so you could lean up and slam your lips against his. Levi throws the controller to the side, hands scrambling to grab the back of your head and the wrist of the hand that’s jerking him off. He’s practically brainless now as he cries and begs for you to make him cum, switching between that and making those lewd, slick, noises whenever your tongue plays with his. When you command him to cum, he shrieks at the intensity, pulling you closer and closer until you're on top of him and his cum is streaking your clothes. There’s a meek ‘I’m sorry’ and the sound of your giggling before your hands go to the waistband of your pants and the video cuts off.

Motivation for true gamers | 1:30 minutes | 87.k views | 85.k likes | 74.k comments

Making these sounds my alarm as we speak

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Suddenly I’ve become a master gamer

Never picked up a controller in my life but I’m otw to buy one rn

Reverse the roles please I beg!!

†

There’s a fairly large spellbook in your hands as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap at one of the library tables; he has his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers digging at your hips as he subtly rocks you back and forth over his cock. The side profile shows only your skirt bunched up to your upper thighs and lace green panties tugged down to your knees— everything is completely covered, even when Satan gets bold and begins bouncing you up and down. No sounds are made except for a faint creaking of the chair and the spellbook thudding against the table when your back arches. All movements halt when someone’s shadow passes by, but as soon as they’re gone, your arms reach back to wrap around Satan’s neck, fingers burying in his blonde locks and tugging desperately. You can’t help the way you begin fucking Satan without his guidance or the way short whimpers begin falling from your lips. He lets out a low hiss, wrapping a hand around your mouth harshly to keep things quiet, all while he pushes you forward to bend over the table as he stands. He pounds at you roughly, using the fabric of your skirt to keep your skin from slapping together. The frantic pace doesn’t stop until he’s got you shaking from your orgasm and he’s following along with a muffled growl. Only then does he let go of your mouth and kiss at where his fingers dug in a little too roughly, massaging over your hips as he whispers about a ‘another study session well done’ before the video cuts.

Shh— quiet in the library | 5:00 minutes | 91.k views | 87.k likes | 82.k comments

regretting never getting into reading after this

what days do you two go to the library, asking for a friend

my face was pressed up against the screen the entire video

can I be the bookmark

putting in my librarian application asap

†

It was a sight that would be found in the best of porn magazines: your body on display with a pretty- expensive- champagne lingerie set that matched the fifth born’s hair color to a tee, while Asmo himself was completely bare, smiling face all dolled up and in frame. What made it even more delicious was his manicured fingers wrapped around his own cock, sliding along the slick area as he gave breathy moans and laughs, all while resting his head on your thigh to watch you pleasure yourself as well. Each bite and lick he delivered to your skin was slow and drawn out, matching the pace each of you were going— but one sharp tug to Azzy’s locks made his back arch with a sharp cry, eyes flashing pink. It’s a blur as he yanks you on top of him, lace-covered ass now on full display for the camera as it bounces along with his movements. The noises are so beautifully vile as you both grind against one another, moans reflecting back that get louder and louder the harder he pulls you down. A few whiny ‘I’m gonna cum!’ exclamations escape him before he forces his cock in you at the last second and practically screams with how intense it made everything feel. There’s thirty seconds of sweet talk and giggling before he’s lifting you up bridal style and you both wag your fingers at the camera before the video ends.

Dress up, dress down | 8:15 minutes | 123.k views | 117.k likes | 103.k comments

I can die happy now

FOR FREE?!?!

I can’t decide who sounds better or looks better

^the answer is both

thank you for the fIVE COURSE FUCKING M E A L

†

The sound of running water does nothing to hide the sharp sounds of slapping skin or the rumbly growls Beel is letting out. His wings are sparkling under the shower spray, fluttering rapidly as he fucks into you; his muscles flex with each movement, practically showing off to the camera since he has his backside facing it. Your legs, lifted up to his shoulders with your knees to your ears, and your hands gripping tightly at his horns are the only part of you that can be seen. Your voice echoes, though, loud and whiny moans that hitch each time he delivers a harsher thrust. You can see his hands wandering, unable to pick a place to grip or knead underneath his fingertips, just like his head keeps tilting or ducking down to scatter kisses and bites and hickeys over your skin. When his pace finally falters, it’s due to his stuttering hips and an unrestrained moan tears from his throat, followed by ‘c-cumming! G’na cum inside, fuck, fuck—!’ You can see his knees buckle a bit and your hands white-knuckling his horns. He gives a few frantic thrusts before he crushes your body against him and stills, letting the water cascade down your bodies with content sighs. The sound of a door opening echoes, followed by laughter from multiple people, before you’re whispering ‘now how are you gonna sneak me out?’ and the video cuts black.

A filthy cleaning | 6:26 minutes | 89.k views | 78.k likes | 72.k comments

Can we talk about his sheer strength?? The muscles?? The effortless pace??

THAT ASS THO

ain’t never seen a more lucky human

Is that…the Fangol’s locker room showers-

I— please??

†

For a moment, there’s only giggling and the rustling of blankets to be heard as you crawl onto Belphie’s lap— whose face is completely hidden by the plush pillows surrounding him. There’s a faint huff from the demon as you begin grinding on his lap, which quickly devolves into groans the harder you press against his bulge. It’s not long before he’s full on moaning, though not yet awake, and you’re lifting yourself up to take his cock out. His oversized shirt you’re wearing hides you well- only showing enough skin to tell you weren’t wearing underwear- and shields the way you fist his cock before lining it at your entrance. Belphie stirs then, voice coming out hoarse as he calls your name groggily. You drop down, not bothering to go slow, and the seventh born lets out a high pitched whine, hips raising in surprise before he’s flush against the bed again, letting you fuck him till your hearts content. You do exactly that, with your hands pressed to his chest for support, and his own clawing desperately at your thighs. His voice remains in a higher pitch, moaning and whining and whimpering, getting louder and louder until you let out a sharp demand for him to cum, and then he’s cumming with a broken gasp— all Belphie can do is give choked cries when you keep rocking your hips and the video ends after hearing your ‘nu-uh, baby, not done yet. Still want more.’

Wake up call | 7:30 minutes | 84.k views | 80.k likes | 75.k comments

holy fuck I wanna be belphie so bad

why don’t I get woken up this way wtf

This! Is! How! You! Do! It! People!

Can— can we just. Talk about that WHINE THOUGH?!

The grip on their thighs and hoarse moans are sending me

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miirohs · 4 months ago

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no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

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coff33andb00ks · 3 months ago

Note

45 + lando caus i need some angst in my life rn

"Lies. Just lies."

driver + number = drabble <3

angst and lando go together like me and red flag men tbh

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health struggles, accusations of cheating, lando's not a good bf

He hasn't looked right lately. He hasn't looked right since...

Miami, really. Once the exuberance of his first win wore off he's been... Different.

At first you could ignore it. Lando prefers it that way - just ignore it until he's ready to talk about it. He'll always struggle with his mental health, you're aware of that, and over the course of your relationship you've grown accustomed to how he handles it. You may not always agree with how he does, but you can only stand by his side and offer support.

Rather, you would, if he'd let you.

"You don't have to come this weekend," he's saying as he packs up for the trip to Austria.

You blink,freezing in front of the closet. You know that most of the other girlfriends and wives don't go to that race - darling there's literally nothing to do? - but it's one of your favorite tracks. The scenery, the atmosphere... You love going there.

Lando knows this. And he doesn't want you to go.

"Heading straight home after the race, spend a couple days with the family," he continues, either not noticing or not caring that you're looking at him with annoyance and worry. Zipping up his suitcase, he pushes it to the floor and rolls his shoulders. "So I'll see you at mum's?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it–

"Oh am I allowed to go there?" you ask, surprised at the bitter coldness in your tone. You can remember when snapping like that would have Lando overflowing with apologies and reassurances. Now, he barely flinches, and you feel dread chilling your heart.

"Go. Don't. It's whatever," he says, his jaw tense.

"Lando–"

"I get it, alright?" He grabs the hoodie lying on the bed and pulls it on. "You don't like my family anyway."

"What are you talking about? I love them," you insist.

He snorts, running his fingers through his hair. "Sure."

And you finally snap. Fuck waiting around for him to be ready to talk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lando isn't meeting your eyes. "Nothing," he says, gathering his wallet and phones. "Just tired."

"For almost two months?" you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. "You've been like this since Miami–"

"Like what?" he asks, and you notice he's growing more tense.

You gesture aimlessly. "This," you whisper. "What happened?"

He opens his mouth and you hear his slow inhale. But instead of speaking, he snaps his mouth closed and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm just stressed, okay?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Did you cheat on me?"

"Babe no, of course not. I'm just... Tired."

"Not too tired to go out every weekend."

"So I can't have any fun?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Lando, we–" You stop when you see him grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "Lan–"

"I gotta go. I'll see you in England. Or not."

"We promised we'd talk about problems, Lando," you say, following him from the bedroom. "You said–"

"Lies. Just lies." He slaps a cap onto his head. "Because neither of us wants the truth do we?"

And with that, he leaves, the slam of the door echoing in the apartment.

#inbox #drabbles #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris angst

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moongreenlight · 11 months ago

Note

GIRLIE PLS I NEED MORE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE x PRICE 😭😭

Instead of starting every ask response with “sorry it took me so long to get to this I suck” I’m just going to issue a blanket statement that I have like 45+ asks in my inbox rn and I get so overwhelmed looking at them that I just ignore them until I need to write something. I love you all for messaging me I love hearing your ideas and compliments please don’t stop sending them just bear with me as I sift through them. <3

Also- I got legit death threats on my first post like this. I’d like to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that this is a LEGAL AGE GAP. It’s not grooming, it’s not predatory, it’s ENTIRELY LEGAL. You’re early twenties. He’s mid-to-late-thirties. Please do not bite my head off.

Anyway I’m back on my Price and his young housewife bullshit below the cut. Xoxoxo

Here’s the OG post if you need a refresher

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

There’s this scene in the MW3 campaign where Price and Farah are talking about where she got the missiles from and he’s trying to shoulder up with her, but she just shuts him down in the end. (Like always I hope you’ll trust me. Implicitly) (John Price the man that you are!!!!!!) and I really think that’s the household dynamic. He’s always the biggest in the room, but he’s got this incredible reverence and respect for women who can out-bitch him. Bends his rigid spine BACKWARDS for you. Would move mountains if you’d only ask.

Doesn’t always have to be serious things. Like maybe you’ve made friends with some moms in the neighborhood (it’s a point of pride for him that they’re all minimum 5 years older than you.) and they all go to this obscenely expensive Pilates class at six in the morning. You mention in passing that you’re signing up and the suburban white dad in him makes his ears perk.

“‘N how much ‘s this class going to cost me?”

“Dunno. Think it just goes on the account.”

“Course. Gym membership doesn’t cost enough as it is.”

And then all it takes is him seeing you in a matching workout set for all of his protest to die down. For SURE makes a comment about how he ‘didn’t know it’d be this worthwhile’

Loosely following that point, I think any real arguments get hostile very quickly. He’s not so egotistical that he won’t apologize, but I’m certain that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to that point. He can hold a grudge unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Borders heavily on immature when the two of you are in the thick of things. Starts shit just to start shit. (Secretly because he just loves makeup sex. Would rather eat you out until you’re sobbing than actually say the words “I’m sorry.”)

Having thoughts about him bringing you to some military ball. The both of you dressing up and sliding into the car that was sent for you just to sit on opposite ends of the backseat and not speak a single word. He burns through a cigar in record time and you toss back a few glasses of champagne. You both put on appearances getting out of the car. Hook your hand around his bicep while he shoves you inside with his hand on the small of your back. Hissing nasty quips back and forth about making this quick. Few hellos. Show your faces and then you can get home and get away from each other. Putting on appearances only goes so far, though, because when John is pissed- everyone feels it. Sucks the life out of a room and replaces it with an eerie feeling like a bomb’s about to go off.

He leaves you alone with a few other wives. Pulled away by Laswell with a promise of a ‘quick’ meeting. He comes back half an hour later fuming when he sees that somehow you’ve been pulled away from where he left you and found company chatting with his boys at the bar.

He gruffs some greetings before dragging you away by the arm so roughly that you have to stifle a yip.

“Are we leaving?”

“No.”

“So what is it, John? You’re making everyone think we’re miserable.”

“We are miserable.”

He’s yet to stop yanking you away. You have to do an awkward half-jog to follow him down a short hallway just outside the washrooms.

“Christ, would you just-“

“You look like a slag in that dress.”

He about throws you straight into the corner at the end of the hall. Muscles in his jaw ticking under the force that he’s using to grit his teeth.

“Sorry?”

His lips are brushing the shell of your ear. Bullying you further back into the wall. You’re entirely taken aback by his ferocity; especially because he usually prefers you wear something much more revealing than this. Some twisted point of pride, him seeing all the men your age drooling over you even after knowing you’re on his arm.

“Ought to let the boys pass you around. See if that won’t sort out that fucking attitude of yours.”

Theres some more protest from you, but it was entirely useless given how worked up he was. He ends up making good on his threat and shoving you into Ghost’s side when he brings you back out. He says something, but you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. Though you assume it’s a half-warning, half-explanation by the way Ghost snakes an arm loosely around your waist and gives a sharp nod. You get off relatively easy all things considered because Ghost is the only one smart enough not to take Price’s words at face value and sneak you away to some coat closet. That’s a permission granted only when John was present and in his right mind.

I cannot stress enough how much it gets him off to see you pregnant. Not like sexually, but he is nothing if not a glutton when it comes to feeding his ego. Likes it when you wear shirts that hug your swollen belly tight so he can see exactly how much your body is changing. Even better if they’re crop-tops that show off the skin that’s now littered with stretch-marks from growing his babies.

I have been saying this, but just to make it clear, he wants a small army of children. Like enough to have one of those trashy reality TV shows about how many kids you have. (In reality I’m getting 4/5 kids in total vibes) Loves coming home from work and seeing you carefully stirring a big pot on the stove while bouncing a baby on your hip, pulling a clingy toddler around on your leg, and situating your school-aged kids with their homework at the table.

But he most definitely hires a live-in nanny to help you out. Knows it’s not fair to leave you with that kind of responsibility. But also it just makes him so hot to see you mothering his kids that he needs to be able to take you away and not have to scramble to find something to occupy the kids.

Makes the nanny take over bath time more often than not so the two of you can take a bubble bath yourselves. He loves the casual intimacy of pouring two glasses of wine and having thirty or forty minutes to yourselves.

Having this visual of you before you’ve started having kids sitting in the tub after being strangely quiet all night. He offers you a heavily-poured glass of red and you’re a little glassy-eyed and staring up at him but making no move to take it.

“You alright, doll?”

“Mm?”

“Said you alright? Don’t want a drink?”

A long moment of silence from you. Long enough for him to perch on the rim of the tub and gently tip you up to look at him by putting a few fingers under your chin.

“John, I think I’m pregnant.”

“So no drink, then.”

#moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #price cod #cod price #john price #price x young housewife!reader

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z3nitsusgf · 2 months ago

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I, The Sun

Ch. 1 - In My Mind

ford pines/reader: NSFW, murder, violence against women, possession, manipulation, occult themes, dark fic.

first chapter of something I’ve been working on, it’s more of a introduction/exposition rn but I promise it gets better.

1976 - Gravity Falls, Oregon

Ford has been having these dreams lately. Unpleasant ones. Ones that leave him feeling sick, where he wakes up with his tongue stuck to his gums, and his body is in a cold sweat.

Where they feel so real that when he wakes he checks himself for injuries to see if it was a memory or not. He can't grasp the material reality with full intensity, a part of him seems to reside far away and beyond what's tangible.

His mind playing tricks on him, a cruel joke. Because the next flash of dreams is him on top of a woman, his hands strangling her until she gives way to the darkness and he’s plunging a knife into her abdomen over and over until she’s nothing more than minced meat. He realizes too late it’s you.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” A voice purrs in his ear, Ford is feral and bloodthirsty, ripping apart human flesh as if it were animal. A laughing soprano rings through his head and it hurts.

Ford wakes with a gasp, clutching his chest. He’s in his room, in his home, safe and sound. He attempts to slow his breathing, the dreams reeling through his head like a spool of film. The moonlight shines through his stained glass window, filtering in through shades of light pink and blue.

He sighs in relief, “just another nightmare.”

Something wet drips on his forehead and he wipes it away, when he looks at his fingertips it’s not water. Something thick and dark is smeared across the pads of his fingers. And Ford looks up slowly, he almost screams. Almost, another splat of blood falls into his parted mouth and Ford scrambles.

There, mounted on the ceiling of his bedroom, a doe head has been nailed to the wood. Mutilated and dripping its fresh wounds onto the scientist, its heart stabbed with a dagger and left to rot.

A painted message of red is smeared next to the head, it reads; ‘can’t run’.

Ford’s vision goes black.

You chewed on your pen cap, the smooth plastic sliding against your molars.

You sit at your cubicle, which was for a lack of a better word - missable; covered in pages from your previous articles and various bands. Rings of coffe stains and energy drinks line your desk, pens and notebooks scattered like autumn leaves. You stared at your computer screen, your new story a sort of meloncholic evil.

A man in your city had gone mad with schizophrenia and slaughtered his entire family. When the police entered the scene, there were decorations of blood and entrails around the apartment, the suspect rocking himself in a corner and wailing. You can imagine him, 45 year old Richard James. Skin and bones, reeking of innards and cigarettes.

Wondering how he got to this point of his life. When just a couple years earlier he was a school teacher and going to dinners with his wife and kids.

It’s a half-written entry, a simple narrative of the events. There was nothing special about it. You look up only when your editor called you into her office.

Miranda Perkins, a fat older woman who wore Hawaiian shirts and smelled of cat litter. Her office is straight out of a 60s JC Penny catalogue. Her window overviewed the parking lot, a shitty sight. But for the daily post in Sacramento, it was as good as it was going to get.

You sit in her uncomfortable chair, moving side to side until you feel any semblance of relief.

“How’s your story coming along, hun?”

She tapped her French tip nails along her desk, looking at your through big rounded coke-bottle glasses. A string of pastel crystal beads hanging from the sides.

“I’m almost done.” You were nowhere near that.

“Good, good. Abandon it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Abandon it!” She singsongs, waving a gaudy looking pen in her hand, “leave it for someone else.”

She was soft with you, probably because you reminded her of a daughter, or because you were soft. You sat in an uncomfortable silence, listening to the ticking of her wall clock and the hum of the FCU.

“How do you feel about Gravity Falls?” She asks suddenly, holding her pen to her temple. A small dot of ink left behind.

“It’s a small town, smack dab in the center of Oregon,” Miranda loved the facts, she got her socks off when writers knew the basic demographics of small unnoticeable towns. You preferred not to discuss your hometown however.

“It was founded by Nathaniel Northwest in the 1800s, it’s got a big touristy lake and the biggest business is logging. It’s full of old money, trash, and tourist traps.”

She hums, “So what’s going on down there?”

You sat in silence, thinking of anything important that you might of missed. Gravity Falls was a town that was not noticed, tucked away beneath Evergreens and trailer parks. The most that befell it was the occasional flood or simple robbery. You had hoped that when Miranda called you in, it would be to compliment your work, or even give you a raise.

“Your family still there?”

“Mom. Estranged dad.” And your half siblings that were born after you had left. You always forget their names though.

“You ever talk to them?” Not since Christmas when your mother sent a gimicky card of St. Nick that read, ‘Have a Joyous Holiday!’ It was polite, you figured after downing four whiskey sours that you could give her a call.

“Not recently.”

“Jesus, read the news once in a while. There’s been a murder. A woman slaughtered in the woods.”

You nodded like you knew, your mother was the only one you had little conversation with and she had said nothing. Curious.

“There’s been three in the past four months, police are saying it’s a cult. Sounds like a serial to me.”

You fiddle with your sweater, a gnawing feeling in your stomach.

“Go drive up there, get the full story.”

No fucking way.

“We’ve got freaky stories here, Miranda.”

“Yeah. And we have half the staff as we used to and half the cash.” She adjusted her glasses, the beads making a small clinking sound.

“This is our chance at a big story.”

You still didn’t want to go, hands gripping the arms of the chair as if she’d force you out. Miranda sighed, “Look hun, if you can’t do it… you can’t do it. But think about it, it’d be good for you.”

Miranda was a surrogate mother in a way you never expected. She always backed you, even when you fell short of expectations. You had the strange feeling of not wanting to disappoint her. You gnawed on your lip.

“I’ll go pack my stuff.”

You packed enough for seven days, confident that you’ll be back by next week. Also taking with you the notes and articles about the case and your notebook. You threw in a pack of Marlboro green and some shooters. As you glance around your apartment you realize how messy it is. Scattered articles, news clippings, take out containers, dead plants.

As you take a final look at your place, you look at a framed picture by the door. A young twenty-something year old you in 1972, hand in hand with your best friend and first ever boyfriend from college - Stanford Pines. You’re in front of BU Univeristy, freshly graduated with your degree in journalism and Ford in his anomalies.

You’re laughing, about what you can’t recall, but you haven’t ever had a smile that big in years. You hold his palm, lovingly. You wonder what he’s up to now, it’s become a mystery. You knew he had grant money for his research, you never followed up to where he went. You fell apart after college, the tether straining when Ford started to dive head first into his career, he became distant.

You like not knowing. In reality, you don’t know why you still have it. Especially displayed in your home as if you were still together. Perhaps that romantic side of you enjoys the nostalgia of it all.

You’d rather not divulge that can of worms.

The drive to Gravity Falls would take eight hours, by the time you make it to the shoddy motel on the outskirts you’re no more than ten miles outside of your hometown. It makes a thick seedy feeling creep up your spine. To be so close had vomit pooling in your stomach.

You down a couple shooters in your motel room, the sheets are dusty and leave you itching. You should probably think of questions to ask the detectives, you decide to down more shots of fireball and vodka. You pass out dreaming strange things; you dream of your childhood, the occult nature of the case, the eerie events that happened so long ago you weren’t sure they were real - you dream of Ford.

When you wake, you snatch a stale bagel from the open kitchen downstairs, heading to your beat down Buick and driving into town.

Gravity Falls couldn’t be spotted from a distance, the tallest building was the water tower near the center of town. The drive is nostalgic in a sickening way, the scenery is visceral. The majestic trees are broken up by the strip of road in the center. You pass the welcome sign, big wooden letters before you’re driving by the gas station.

You know this place like the back of your hand. On the Main Street, you find remnants of the charming town. A beauty parlor, a clothing store that sold exclusively knitted sweaters and skirts, the up-in-coming VHS store that sold second hand movies. There’s only one real place to eat here, and it’s a greasy spoon called ‘The Greasy Spoon’.

The people in this town were what you called - complacent. They grew up here, lived till they got old, and died here. People out here, it’s like they don’t even know the outside world exists.

You see familiar faces as you drive. Susan Wentworth, the diner woman who always called you honey and wore too much blue eyeshadow. Dan Corduroy, the large ginger lumberjack who inherited his family’s pass-me-down flannel and could eat 20 hot cakes without puking. The Valentino’s, who were funeral directors and were some of the nicest people you’ve ever met, fucking strange though.

You decided to drive to the police station first. When you approached the receptionist desk, she regarded you with chilled contempt. Filling at her red acrylic nails and motioning you to sit and wait.

“Deputy Blubs with be with you shortly.” She smacked her gum at you. You sat like a patient dog, the shitty AC churning in the afternoon heat. You read the outdated magazines splayed on the small table, the scent of old paper and dust filling your nose. The magazines were from the 60s, full of outdated trends and styles.

When Blubs walked in he was already sweating through his uniform. Blubs was the upcoming deputy of the town who had a handlebar mustache and never took off his aviators. The receptionist motioned to you with her pen, mouthing the word “journalist” with disgust.

“Deputy Blubs, I’m with the Daily post in Sacramento.” You shake his hand, giving him your name as you follow him to his office.

He raises a brow, “Why are you all the way up here?”

He plops in his chair, “I want to talk about the recent events happening here, the women in the woods.”

“Good lord, how the hell did you hear about that all the way in Sacramento? Jesus.”

You shrug, “it’s a big deal, women going missing and showing up dead.”

“Listen,” he sighs, heavy and tired, “I don’t want this to get out.”

You gesture with your hands, “not really up to you Deptuty, the public deserves to know the danger going on.”

Blubs scoffs, looking out his window, “why’da you care now? You people never cared before about Gravity Falls.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t gonna be some exposé. This is important. And besides, I’m from Gravity Falls.” You let your voice die off at the end, like admitting it was some awful curse. He stares hard.

“What’s your name again?” You tell him, he rubs his stubble.

“My mother married out of her maiden name. It’s Evans now.”

“Ah, I know ‘em.” Everyone knew everyone here.

“Listen I can’t tell you much,”

“I don’t need much.”

Blubs sighed, contemplating.

You left the police station with a location of where the most recent woman was found. The old church back up in the woods.

Mallory Windsor, 22, found in the ruins of the old church. Couple of raw-boned, edgy teens found her when they were vandalizing the decrepit building. She’d been strangled, bound, stabbed 25 times, and her teeth were missing. Safe to say her funeral was a closed casket.

You trek through the woods to the taped off crime scene. The cawing of ravens bounced off the trees and your boots crunched the pine needles on the ground. You notice traces of dried blood on the cracked floorboards, claw marks from where she was dragged, and a tuft of blonde hair that’s stuck in between a broken branch.

You noticed in the plank on the wall, carved into the wood, was a triangle with an eye in the center a circular ring around it with markings unknown to you. You drew it in your notebook, you’d have to look that up later. As you walked around, you collected as much as you could with what Blubs told you.

Mallory worked at the boutique in the town square, she was considered playful and gentle by her family. They said she recently started going to church, that she had found God. Others say she was a no-good sneaky whore, running off in the night to hang with married men. Her mother was devastated to learn of her daughters death, saying her sweet little girl was taken too soon. The people of Gravity Falls were gossipy, they loved having “friends” over to discuss their neighbors or coworkers or what have you.

You, despite being a journalist, hated picking apart peoples lives like they were nothing more than a dead frog on a table. Perhaps that’s why you’re not a top story writer.

Your mind wandered, thinking about pre-teen you, running through these woods and scraping your knees and getting bug bites the size of pennies. Those strange little creatures that would run past you, growling when you got too close. You stopped and touched the crumbly dirt, picking at stones and watching little ants march their way through the muck.

You shivered at the feeling and felt as through you were being watched. But when you whipped around to stare, all the stared back was the towering evergreens and the sunlight filtering through.

This place always did leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You decide to end your night at the Greasy Spoon.

Walking in the log shaped diner, the scent of butter and too much maple wafted through the air. The tables were 50’s linoleum, the booths sticky with syrup. When you entered you noticed Susan still serving, some things never change.

“Just take a seat hun, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She swivels on her kitten heel, her big up-do bobbing. You always wondered how she could handle the weight of that on her head.

You pick a booth close to the back, the only other patron a man with his head glued to the local newspaper. You didn’t need a menu, and you’re sure as shit it hasn’t changed. Simple as a rock and cheap as dirt.

When Susan approaches, she holds her notepad and pen. She looks up with a smile that turns into a gasp.

“Oh! Oh my goodness gracious, why sweetheart I haven’t seen you in ages!” She leans over the table to give you a side hug. It’s awkward and leaves you drifting on one side as you pat her back. Cheeks hot with the attention.

“Hello Susan, nice to see you again.” You give her a half smile, nails digging into your jean-clad thigh.

“My, you’ve grown! Gosh you look like your mother. Anyways, same as before right? Steak and eggs?” You nod, a little awed she still remembers, and you don’t have the heart to tell her you’re not in the mood for meat right now.

“I’ll whip that up in a jiffy.” She singsongs, happily trotting back to the kitchen, shooing at a raccoon that had crawled into the window sill. You glance around the diner, looking over the jukebox and the stool-top. It’s all the same picture perfect small town diner like when you left.

You glance up, happening to look at the booth across from you. In it, you see a ghost. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Your breath hitches, you’re starting to pick at the skin at your fingertips, feeling the raw bite of plucked flesh.

Stanford fucking Pines. In the flesh.

He’s staring, looking at you with wide owlish eyes, the brown gleaming under his lenses. He’s grown older, the lines of his face getting deeper, more textured. The crows feet between his brows is more prominent now.

“Ford-“ Susan plops your plate down in front of you, a heaping steak with eggs over-medium and potatoes. She puts a bottle of hot sauce on the table and winks,

“What brings you back here, hun? Seen your momma yet?”

You nod, a lie. “Just up here for work, Susan. Writing about the Windsor girl.”

Her smile drops, a flush of red creeping up her puffy cheeks. “Oh, that was a horrible thing. Poor girl, I can’t believe it.”

You nod, poking your egg yolk till it pops and spills golden liquid all over your potatoes. There’s a beat of intense silence, it’s uncomfortable.

“Well, I best let you enjoy your dinner, hun.” She waves her red acrylics and smiles, turning around to busy herself with the register.

When you look back at Ford he’s still star-struck, almost as if he’s looking at someone’s faded memory of you. He stands quickly from his booth, collecting his newspaper and book. He dresses almost the exact same as he did in college; dawning a soft red turtleneck, slate colored khaki’s, and a beige trenchcoat. His hair is still long, the ends fluffed up and starting to grey. Streaks of white striping like paint. His eyes were tired, heavy bags that were almost purple. He looked exhausted.

For a moment, you think he’ll walk past you without saying anything. Thinking that after all this time, he’d not want to speak to you. You’d rather that than make painful small talk about your life.

But he stays, sliding into your booth with nothing more than a shy, “Hello, it’s been a while.”

You nod, sipping your tap water. The tension is unbearable, you have no idea where to start or end or if you should even be talking to him in the first place. Things didn’t end so sweetly.

“Listen-“

“I-“

You both speak at the same time, blinking hard and looking down. You breath in, almost choking on the smell of a burning skillet and the insufferable feelings molded on your stomach.

“How have you been, Stanford?”

You offer this, a small olive branch.

He gives this grin that’s more of a grimace. Smoothing his hands over his journal, he can’t see the way you grip the booth cushion. He nods, “I’ve uh, I’m good. Research is going good.”

Always awkward, even in college. He was a nerdy little thing, more boy than man. So wrapped up in his books and notes and anomalies. You liked it, you were obsessed with the way he was so passionate. No one back home did anything with their lives except smoke, drink, and gossip.

At first, you hated him. Hated his ego and how he thought everyone around him was a sorry excuse and a waste of space. Something changed, things happened, you hate-fucked and bit one another, then you thought about how secretly sweet he was. You remember your first kiss with him, how he held your face and you panted into each others mouths.

“How did you end up here?” You ask, stabbing a potato with your fork. How long has he been here? Becoming infected with your town; grocery shopping where you first worked, strolling through the park you beat up a bully on, passing by your elementary school. How long has he lived in the place you wanted to forget existed?

“I, um, I moved here right after we graduated. Built a cabin, started my research, even had Fiddleford come help me a bit.”

Fiddleford, your cookie-cutter southern country boy. He was interesting, thick accent and smarter than most. You hung around him when you were seeing Stanford. They were buddies, college roommates, and now you learned - research partners.

Your food was growing cold, you could not stomach any of it. A rotting feeling of apathy was gnawing at your stomach. Ford waved his hands in the air, “Enough about me, how are you? Why are you here?”

It makes a fish-hook bite of anger pierce through you.

“I’m from here.” You mumble, shoving a forkful of runny eggs and potato in your mouth. Ford’s eyes widen, like a slap of realization.

“Right. Right you are, I had-“ forgotten. He had forgotten almost everything about you. You expected as much.

“You haven’t been up here in a long time.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating the obvious. You knew that if he was here since college and you weren’t such a coward, you’d have seen him sooner. Perhaps, you would have come up to reconcile had you known. A falseness you tell yourself.

“You mentioned you’re writing about the Windsor girl, how’s that going?”

You flick your eyes to his neck, trying to look anywhere but his eyes, it’s mostly shielded by his red turtleneck. But you see the creeping of an ugly hickey, dark maroon splotches sucked like leeches onto his skin. You clench your jaw.

“Fine, all’s fine. Gotta interview a couple people. Why? You knew her?”

Ford sips at some coffee leftover, eyeing you over the rim. You’re different now. So… sullen. He still remembers the softness of your voice, even now with the rasp of time and cigarettes. You’ve still got that snappy little bite, the one that had him wrapped around your finger.

“No. Never met her.”

There’s a trickle of something faintly sulphuric in the air, you think you’re hallucinating or Susan has burnt yet another hot cake. Probably just tired from today. Ford gives you a small smile the lifts the corner of his lips.

You and Ford make more pitiful conversation on the way to your car. It slowly dissolves into something that could be considered good-natured. A distant association, something platonic.

“Where you staying?”

Where indeed. You could go back to the motel but you haven’t got much money. Or you could stay with your mother. You grimaced at the thought and Ford notices your contemplation. You might just sleep in your car.

“Could stay the night with me.” He shrugs, hands deep in his pockets as the nighttime breeze drifts through the air. You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not like that!-“ he holds his hands up, “I have a spare bedroom.”

You nod, toeing the dirt path with the toe of your boot. It’s like being in college all over again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, gesturing to your car.

“I’ll give you directions.”

You take your keys out and unlock your driver door, “You didn’t drive here?”

He shakes his head, “No, I was out collecting specimens for my research.”

His research, he never did tell you what exactly he was studying. You shrug, “Okay then, hop in.”

Stanford’s cabin is out of the way of town. Far out into the woods, surrounded in towering trees and foliage, you pull of the main road and onto a dirt one. A clearing in view, there sits his home.

It’s nothing special, simple construction with a lopsided roof and creaky splintering wood. It looks haunted, you don’t say that out loud though. That would be rude and you don’t want to be rude to the man about to share his home with you, no matter how dark and creepy it looks from the outside.

Inside isn’t much better, it’s hardly decorated. You almost chuckle in a way, it’s so similar to your own apartment. Papers and notes are tacked into the walls, jars and bottles of strange things are lining tables and shelves. He has warm citrus colored lightbulbs, it illuminates around the cabin and makes it glow with an orangey hue.

“I apologize for the mess, I don’t have many visitors.”

He scrambles to collect notes and papers strewn like confetti, huffing at the state of his home. You wave him off, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

You’re getting eye level with his shelf; there’s jars of eyeballs, mysterious goo that shimmers iridescent, and other weird stuff.

“What is all this?” Ford straightens his back, adjusting his glasses.

“My research. I’m here investigating the anomalies of Gravity Falls.”

You purse your lips, a strange feeling creeps into your body.

“What do you mean?”

Ford gives you a stifled look that screams ‘really? Gonna play that game?’ And you shrink away.

“Are you saying you never experienced weirdness here? Strange things in the woods?”

The woods. Blonde hair, hanging entrails, missing teeth. Your breath quickens, you feel yourself sinking. Everything is fuzzy and you can’t breathe, he shouldn’t be poking around a place like this. He touches your shoulder and you flinch harder than you should.

“No! No, the only thing weird around here is how the people are so fucking happy to die in this shithole.” You swipe his hand away from you, flashes of childhood summers spent exploring those woods.

When you would wade in the creek with your head poking out to watch the gargantuan wooden monsters slowly drag themselves through the forest. Creatures that would follow just two steps behind you, cracking joints each time they moved. Monsters that would take shape of familiar animas, then skitter away when you got close. Screams would echo throughout the evergreens, things unseen. How can anyone witness a tree falling if they didn’t hear it?

Ford retracts his hand, looking at you with worry. Eyes softened, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed. You hate it. You hate when people look at you with pity and anguish, like you’re a soft underbelly of a doe waiting to be sliced open.

You shudder, “I’m sorry, sorry. I just, I’m tired. This case got me all worked up.”

You rub your own arms in comfort, avoiding to look at Ford in his big watery browns. He nods, “of course, I’ll show you to the room.”

He leads you gently to the spare, bag in hand and other on the small of your back. The room is clean, neat, and painfully sterile. Devoid of any personality or substance. It’ll do just fine.

“Not many people use this, sheets are clean and there’s a bathroom down the hall to the left. I’m only the next door down.”

You nod slowly, the wearing exhaustion is making your head throb and your bones ache from sitting for so long. Ford pats your shoulder, “don’t be afraid to knock on my door if things go bump in the night.”

You want to hit him. He chuckles at your sour frown, turning to leave you when you call out to him.

“Thank you, Stanford. I really do appreciate it.”

He gives a half-pained, half-sincere smile and walks into his room. You hear the clicking of his lock, you do the same.

There is an ominous silence that makes the cabin, so deathly quiet that you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You scramble to turn on the lamp, exhaling in relief at the warm glow on your face.

Ford is next door, you are not with your mother, things are fine. You are fine. You will not acknowledge the scratching at the walls, nor the tapping at the window. You will pretend everything is normal, that this town is normal, that you are normal.

You fall into a restless sleep, tossing and turning until you succumb. Ford is prowling, just beyond your bedroom, he has slipped outside into the cool night and has disappeared into the woods.

You won’t even know he’s gone by the time you wake up in the morning.

#val.writes ❦#ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #gravity falls stanford

94 notes · View notes

eve209 · 4 months ago

Text

‼️‼️SMUT WARNING CAUSE IM PISSED‼️‼️

FOR SOME BACK STORY: on Roblox I got banned for a day then when I was logging back in it wouldn’t let me do to the 2 step vari so….I’m mad rn tbh and I wanna fuck Roblox

ROBLOX X TOP MALE READER

THIS FANFIC IS JOKE PLS (kinda short)

(Update that account got deleted…)

‼️WARINGS‼️ punishment, spanking, light choking, degrading, little praise here and there, daddy kink (only 2 times though), pet names, mirror fucking, almost gettin caught, sir kink.

_________________________________________

“FUCKING HELL DUDE” I said bashing my head on my keyboard then looking back up at the screen in front of me.

“What are you mad about this time?” My homie, Kayden on the call said while chucking.

“Ya know how got ban from Roblox yesterday?”

“Mhm”

“well now I’m trying to log in and it says I have to have a 6 digit code that got sent to my email and I didn’t hook a FUCKING EMAIL ON MY ACCOUNT.”

“PFFFFFF HAHAHA, do ya want me to come over and help with it? Maybe I can spend the night or somethin.” Alex said while I heard him shuffling for something, probably his phone.

“But then I have to wait 45 minutes for you to drive here tf am I going to do in the mean time!?” I said while stretching out my arms and pushing my gaming chair back with my feet till it hit my bed while still having my headset on.

“It’s ok dude your gonna live im packing rn so hold tight and jerk off or somethin.” Alex said.

“BRO WTF-“ I said while getting cut off by the end call sound.

“Fucking hell…” I said breathing out but again getting interrupted by a strange noise coming from the pc. Bringing my head back down from looking up at the ceiling while everything started to violently shake around me.

“What the fuck is happening!” I said gripping the arm rests of the chair then closing my eyes and waiting for everything to be over.

….

…….

Suddenly everything stopped. ‘What the fuck..’ I thought opening my eyes slowly while feeling pressure on my lap.

“Hi there! I heard you are having a hard time logging into your Roblox account! May I help you in anyway to satisfy you?” A soft male voice said above me while I was looking my lap seeing tight, outlined thighs with a small bulge in between.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?” I said looking up, following the tanned body that’s connected to the thighs I was checkin out earlier.

“Oh I’m sorry dear! I’m Roblox! I’m sorry I forgot to introduce myself! Your having trouble right? Well I’m here to take that trouble away!” Said Roblox while holding an iPad, still sitting on my lap.

“Y-yeah I am having trouble. My names (M/n) by the way..” I said lightly grabbing his waist so his ass can stop grinding on my dick.

“Yep! I already know that but thank you for reminding me!” He said but then quickly adding onto it while starting to turn around to the PC, “What seems to be the problem sir?”

‘Fuck…’ I thought while still holding on to his waist. The sight of his round, squish-able ass on my covered dick kinda turned me on. ‘I never knew a fucking app could have such a fuckable ass…’

“Um sir, what you do need help with?” Roblox said while slightly turning his body to the side to look at me.

“Oh yeah um I can’t log into my Roblox account because it says I need a six digit code thats sent to my email but it didn’t send me it so I don’t know what to do.” I said scratching the back of my head while looking up at him, still on my lap.

“Oh well are you sure that you checked your inbox?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure…” I said tilting my head back.

“Well then I’m sorry sir but I don’t know how to help you then…you probably turned on two-step verification and didn’t put an email to go with it!” Roblox said, moving his body to face me again while resting his hands on my chest, and looking at me.

With a deep sigh coming from my mouth, I moved my hands to go under his butt and stood up while still holding him and walking to my bed and placing Roblox in the middle of it.

“Um sir! W-what are you d-doing!” Roblox said moving his hands to clutch the pillow, his head was laying on.

“You said you were here to take my trouble away right?” I said, taking off my hoodie I had on.

“Y-Yes! That’s what I’m here for, but what are you doing!” Roblox said with a worried look.

“Well I have some trouble with my dick and I think you would be perfect and you need a punishment for not doing your job right.” I said putting a hand next to Roblox’s face and looking down on him. “How does that sound princess?” I said slipping my hand down to grab his ass.

POV NOW IN 3RD PERSON

“But sir- MHMM!~” Roblox stuttered before (M/n) smashed his lips onto his roughly and slipped his tongue in his mouth.

As (M/n) was taking his sweatpants and boxers off, he took his tongue out of Roblox’s mouth to replace them with two of his own fingers.

“Fuck baby, look at how hard my dick is because of you.” (M/n) said, grabbing his cock and jerking himself off while taking his fingers out of Roblox’s mouth and entering his fingers in his tight hole. After stuffing his fingers in, (M/n) immediately started to thrust his fingers faster and harder making Roblox scream in pleasure.

After a couple of minutes, Roblox’s tight hole was already nice and loose, which once (M/n) realized this, he took his fingers out and stopped jerking his massive cock off. “Fucking hell, do you know how much time and money I put in that stupid fucking account since I was like 10?” (M/n) said, grabbing Roblox’s neck, choking him, and leaning down to slide his tongue around Roblox’ s face cheek.

“P-please sir! I’m s-so sorry I couldn’t help but I-!~ AH!” Roblox said before getting cut off by (M/n) thrusting his cock into Roblox’s pathetic hole, making Roblox cum right then and there.

“S-shit Baby your still so fuckin tight after fingering your hole for 10 minutes, goddamn slut.” (M/n) said til grabbing onto his neck. Roblox couldn’t even get a breather, nor thought in before (M/n) started thrusting fast into Roblox, making their skin slap together.

“AHH~! DADDY PLEASE!~~ it’s to much! Please daddy I just c-came! Wait wait w-wait!” Roblox said tears of overstimulation and pleasure running down his face.

“God princess, just take it.” (M/n) said while smacking Roblox’s ass.

After 20 minutes of thrusting, choking, degrading and praise, (M/n) still hasn’t came deep inside Roblox like he wants! Unlike (M/n), Roblox has came 3 times already, almost passing out. “F-fuck what a good boy you are baby, such a big dick for a tight ass like yours and your still taking it.” (M/n) said smirking as Roblox arched his back.

“Fuck! S-sir! I-it’s to m-much! Ah!~” Roblox said screaming as (M/n)s dick reached the deepest part of him.

*knock knock knock*

….

“Who the fuck….” (M/n) said stopping, but not pulling out of Roblox. Roblox whimpered, tightening around (M/n)s cock. Breathing heavily, Roblox asked (M/n) “W-why did y-you st-“. “HEY DUDE WTF ARE YOU DOING??” Kayden said still knocking on the door.

“F-fuck um ONE SECOND LET ME GO TAKE A SHOWER!” (M/n) said covering Roblox’s mouth in the process.

“NAH MAN WTF I WAS JOKING ABOUT YOU JERKING OFF YOU FREAK” Kayden said, laughing and fidgeting with the door.

“BRO STFU I HATE U I DIDNT DO THAT” (M/n) said picking up Roblox and walking to his bathroom in his room. Quickly turning the shower on and sitting on the lid of the toilet. (M/n) breathes and slaps Roblox’s butt and throws his head back before looking at Roblox and whispering..

“You think you can be quiet?”

#top male reader #seme male reader #roblox #sub character #dom top reader

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bruisedboys · 10 months ago

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hello!!! i saw that you write for bradley and i’m OVER THE MOON RN. could i possibly request a hurt/comfort fic with a shy!plus size! reader combo? maybe a first date scenario where bradley is super late to said date and reader thinks he stood her up or asked her out as a joke so she goes home super embarrassed like “why did i think i could be w him in the first place??” bradley is devastated because he’s liked this girl for so long and he just blew it but he’s able to get her back in the end 🤩 please and thank you!!

hello angel!! thank u so so much for the sweet request, I hope it’s okay! mwah

bradley bradshaw x shy!fem!plus-size!reader cw for body insecurities

You stare at yourself in the mirror, miserable. You haven’t cried yet, but the way your stomach looks in this top might be your breaking point. You’d actually felt pretty, earlier in the evening, all dolled up in your new clothes. But then you’d waited an agonising 45 minutes at the restaurant for Bradley to show up, only to realise he wasn’t coming and you’d made a complete fool of yourself. Now you just feel ugly and so, so embarrassed.

Why would he even want me? You think, glaring at your body in the mirror. You lift your top and squeeze a handful of your soft stomach cruelly, half wishing you could rip it clean off. He probably asked you as a joke, you suppose. And you were stupid enough to buy into it.

A single, hot tear rolls down the slope of your cheek.

You’re wiping at it angrily when there’s a loud, sharp knock on your door. You flinch. It’s enough to scare you out of your miserable state, at least. You freeze, thinking maybe if you ignore it, whoever it is will leave you alone.

“Y/N?”

Bradley? You recognise his voice immediately and your heart climbs to your throat. What is he doing here? Did he not just stand you up? Is he here to antagonise you further? You creep out into the entryway, where Bradley’s voice is clearer. He bangs on the door again.

“Y/N, honey,” he’s saying. He sounds stressed and a little desperate. “I know you probably hate me right now, but please would you come to the door? I really need to talk to you.”

You feel as though an invisible force is pulling you towards the door, towards Bradley. You don’t know why on earth you do it, but you lift a hand and open the door.

Bradley stands on your doorstep, in jeans and a nice linen shirt that doesn’t have an ugly Hawaiian print, for once. His aviators hang from the collar. He’s still strikingly handsome even though you’re upset with him.

“Y/N,” he breathes out. He lowers his fist from where he’d been rapping on your poor door. “Hey. Hi.”

You shift on your socked feet and grip the door handle like it’s your lifeline. “Hello.”

Bradley gives you a look akin to devastation. “Listen, honey. I’m so, so sorry about our date. I got caught up at work, and then my car wouldn’t start, so I had to— hey, are you crying?”

Unfortunately, you are. Why now? You think to yourself. Warm, salty tears spill over your lower lashes against your will. You scrub at your cheeks harshly. Bradley frowns at you.

“Hey. Hey, don’t.” He steps forward and takes your wrists in his hands. He encourages your hands from your face and replaces them with his own, thumbs swiping at your hot tears. He’s a hundred times more gentle than you had been.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “I feel like such a dick … I’ve had a crush on you for ages and ages and now I’ve made you cry.” He pulls you into a hug and gives a self deprecating sort of laugh, rubbing your back in quick, smooth sweeps. “What kind of loser am I?”

You sniffle. His hug is overwhelmingly warm. You feel a bit dumbfounded, and wonder if you’ve heard him right.

“You—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat and pull back out of his arms. “You have a crush on me?”

Bradley gives you a look of confusion, his hands on your shoulders. “Well, yeah, honey,” he says. His brings his thumb up to swipe at a tear collecting in the corner of your eye. “That’s why I asked you out.”

You blink at him. So … it wasn’t a joke? He didn’t do it to make fun of you? “I— are you serious?”

Bradley frowns at you. His eyebrows pinch in the middle. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Well, that’s the big question, isn’t it? You draw a shaky breath. “I don’t know, I guess because I’m not— I mean, I’m not really like other girls, Brad.”

Bradley continues to look even more confused than before. “So?” He asks, incredulous. “That’s why I like you so much, babe.”

What? This is not how you thought this would go. Why isn’t he getting it?

“But— but I’m big,” you say, feeling a bit sick. You don’t like to call yourself big, you know it doesn’t matter, but it’s the only way to make Bradley understand. “I don’t have a nice body. And. And I’m too quiet. I thought maybe you didn’t turn up because …”

You trail off. Because I’m fat. Because I’m shy. Because you’re lean and handsome and I’m nowhere near to being in your league. All things you’ve been thinking since he didn’t show up to your date. You don’t say them out loud, but they hang in the air between you and Bradley like burning hot stars anyway.

Bradley stares at you hard. You feel the heat of your confession on your neck, your cheeks.

“Honey,” he says, serious and sweet simultaneously. “Sweet girl. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

You duck your head. The way he’s looking at you is too much. If he keeps this up you’ll be a puddle in seconds.

“It’s not your fault,” you say quietly. It’s not. Really, it’s your own for assuming the worst of him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bradley says firmly. “I upset you, didn’t I? I’m really sorry.” He slides his hand under your chin. You know you have more pudge there than another girl would. And yet, you find you don’t mind his touch as much as you feared you would. “Would you look at me?”

Shy, you tilt your head up with the help of his gentle hand until you’re meeting his eyes. You’re struck, suddenly, by how close he is.

Bradley smiles. He’s so, so handsome you almost feel sick by it.

“I really like you,” he says, earnest. “So much. I don’t mind that your body is different. Everyone’s body is different, isn’t it? It’s not a bad thing, and I happen to really like how you look. You’re beautiful exactly the way you are.”

You blink rapidly. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. You don’t think you’ve ever been spoken to in such an honest tone, with such lovely words. It sets you aflame from the inside out. You’re melting, a lovesick puddle of a girl.

“I don’t mind that you’re quiet, either,” he says, and somehow he’s just getting lovelier by the second, and you can’t believe you ever thought he had ill intentions when he’s being so achingly kind to you. “I think I talk quite enough for the both of us, don’t you?”

You laugh, breathless. You’re hyper aware of his hand on your face, of his chest where it’s inches from yours. Normally you’d feel self conscious with another person so close to you, your insecurities on display in full. With Bradley, and the way he’s looking at you, soft brown eyes and a kind smile, you feel special. A flower blooms in your chest, rearing towards Bradley like he’s the sun.

“I’m so sorry for ruining our first date,” Bradley says in a low voice. He brings a hand to your waist. You feel his heat through your clothes. He’s touching you like you’re something precious, like porcelain or starlight. “Do you think you could give me another chance?”

Well, when he asks like that, you know you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to.

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iraprince · 10 months ago

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i have what is probably a really obscure question - back in the day when 8tracks was a thing, there was a sweat (acid soup) mix that i THINK you made + posted, with a cover of LOVEFOOL. i'm trying to find that particular cover of LOVEFOOL. do you know which it was?

okay so this has driven me CRAZY bc i REMEMBER what ur talking about, but i cannot find it at all. i tried to do some basic sleuthing, like poking around searching at my twitter and stuff, but all i find from then is 1. scattered evidence of a few ppl being like "ira what the hell is this demonic cover of lovefool" and 2. me gloating about how i only found said demonic cover of lovefool through like a 45 minute google rabbit hole. not helpful, past ira. also, i must have downloaded it at some point to upload it to 8tracks, but that would have been like, two laptops ago and there's no way i can dig up the file.

anyway i got a bit closer by digging a little more -- i have this kind of hazy memory of literally just typing in something like "cool lovefool cover" and trawling list articles, and when i tried to recreate it i found this meanspirited little vice piece with a description that i am like, 99.9999% SURE IS REFERENCING THE VERSION WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!!! ...but unfortunately bc it's from 2012, all the embeds are gone/broken (and as far as i can tell there's no remnants of links even when i inspect the page, tho i'm not very tech literate when it comes to stuff like this so maybe i'm missing something):

and as we can see here, even back then, if this was the cover we're thinking of, it wasn't attributed or traceable. but we do glean a LITTLE info from this: "under six minutes" means it was five and change, and it must have been uploaded to soundcloud at least 11 years ago.

i tried trawling thru soundcloud w those parameters in mind but couldn't find it... unfortunately i think there's a high chance the original account that uploaded it doesn't exist anymore. (i may have missed something, like maybe a different account has re-uploaded it and i scrolled past it bc i was looking at upload date, but expanding the search to any year is something i don't have the bandwidth for rn!!)

this might be a workable amount of info to at least go to reddit or something with? i feel like there must be at least one subreddit that's specifically dedicated to "help me find this obscure soundcloud remix that got deleted." but for now i'm afraid i must admit defeat, which sucks bc now that you've reminded me of it *i* really wanna listen to the decade-old demonic cover of lovefool too :')

#additionally the mix does still technically exist on 8tracks but that wasn't helpful either #bc the way 8tracks works now is it just searches the title+artist of the originally uploaded track on youtube.#so i clicked thru to get to the weird lovefool cover and it just stalls out on that one :/#SIGH.......... well. file this under 'stark reminders about the impermanence of shit online'#also from what i've seen soundcloud's search function is just atrocious. so i also may have missed it just in a technical issues sense

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twagoes · 2 months ago

Text

my boyfriend rating hugs other men could give me | richie jerimovich x reader

-> want to note that this was written with a male reader in mind and there are words used to describe a man used when describing reader. if you don’t like that…obviously dont read it lmao

cws: age gap relationship (richie is likee 45 and readers age wasnt stated, but i imagine mid 20s), cursing, unserious jealousy and more unseriousness aggressive protectiveness. and yeah, that’s all i can think of rn….

“what are you filming me for?” richie’s gruff voice is loud and booming and he just sounds immediately fed up with whatever you have planned. but he only sounds like that. you know him well enough to know he doesn’t actually care that much about your phone being in his face. he’s gotten a lil used to you always coming up to him for new content for your tiktok account.

“can we film a tiktok?”

“another fucking tiktac, i don’t know what it up with your obsession with that app, but no-“

“i promise it’ll be really funny,” you pout, hugging his arm and he’s already sighing knowing he’s lost the debate. not that he even minds filming one, it’s just, he really doesn’t get it. is he entertaining or something? why are you coming up to him every other week with new content? do you have a lot of followers or something? regardless, then he’d be lying if he didn’t feel a sense of pride whenever you’d ask him to be in one of your videos — as if it’s the highest honor.

he, obviously, doesn’t know you two had recently gone viral and you were making some good cash off of that video.

so to milk the content as well as just wanting to see his genuine reaction, you drag him to the couch and force him to lay down. he gets cozy quickly, sighing and holding his arms open for you to lay in. you take your place by his side and show him your phone screen. it’s already recording.

“alright, say who you are-“

“why do i gotta do that? is this going to people we know? do your followers not already know me?” he asks, looking at you incredulously, “i’m your boyfriend slash fiance slash love of your life slash only man that you know, there’s an introduction. richie, by the way,”

you laugh at his tone and antics, knowing that this video was already going to be good.

“okay, so basically, we are gonna be rating different types of hugs,” he nods in understanding, leaning his head over yours as he stares at the phone that’s filming everything, “so it’s 10 is the worst hug, 1 is the best,”

“okay, sounds simple enough, let’s get it going,” he says, rolling his wrist, as if saying to speed up the process.

“the thing is: you’re rating hugs that other girls or guys would give me,”

that has him lifting his head off of yours and looking down at you, not watching your phone screen anymore.

“babe, what the fuck? no? what the fuck does that even mean?” his chicago accent is thick as he lays on all these questions for you, “why would you even be going around hugging other guys? this sounds stupid,”

“if it’s stupid, let’s just do it quickly then,” you persist, rubbing his scruff with your hand and forcing his face to look back at the camera, “richie, swear it’s only gonna take a couple seconds,”

“nah, you just wanna see me pissed off cause you like that shit,” he smirks, but he’s still seemingly not willing, “why do i have to do this again?”

“because you love me, c’mon, please,” you beg and he’s staring at you unimpressed for a couple of seconds before groaning, rolling his eyes, and making a whole dramatic show of how he doesn’t want to do this. all before cozying back up next to you and letting you put the filter on.

“i swear to god if there’s some dumb ass shit on here, i’m leaving,” he warns, but you don’t take it too seriously as you grin and reposition the camera to have the filter on him. “okay, fine, so one is the worst and ten is the best?”

“no, no, babe, it’s the other way around,” you correct him softly, watching the filter go through all the options above his head.

“wait, that doesn’t make fucking sense?” he says, face screwing up, “wouldn’t it make sense that one is the worst because, it being at the top is, like, top tier worst hug ever, like i’m killing a guy because of it,”

“richie, richie, look it’s already going,”

he grumbles before looking at the screen and squinting when he sees what it’s landed on, reading it slowly, “the fuck is a catcher hug?” he looks at you repeatedly, up and down as if he’s accusing you of something, “you let other guys catch you and hug you? this is what you let happen when i’m not around?”

you break out into laughter at how serious he’s taking it, shaking your head no and urging him to answer, but he’s still interrogating you, “no, no, like actually what the fuck is this? obviously that’s the worst,” you laugh again, knowing that there is arguably worse than that in the filter, “that shit is easily a ten, i don’t care. who the fuck else is gonna catch you besides me? oh right, no one!”

you nod along with him, tapping the slot of ten and waiting for the next one. he leans his head against yours, lips in a tight line as he waits.

“okay, this one is…self hug! okay, this one is good,”

“yeah, i like that one, don’t go hugging other people - you got yourself. put it at one, babe,” he says, kissing the top of your head with a smile. it was funny how quickly his mood changed, “okay, maybe this shit isn’t that bad.”

the filter goes again and you’re surprised to see the more tame options.

“classic hug is a classic hug, nothing’s wrong with it,” he muses, looking at the empty list and easily placing it at 2, “better if there’s no hugging like that self hugging shit, but whatever.”

he taps the slot and waits the next one.

“oh, shit, i like this game, side hug is a solid 3,” he laughs, very happy with how this is going, “but if they’re taller than me, they can suck my balls. no guy taller than me can be side hugging you, it’s basically cheating,”

“baby, no one else is taller than you,” you softly whisper earning a hum of approval from him.

“strangle hug? i like this one too, but it should be you strangling them so they, y’know-” he cuts his hand over his neck in a motion that makes you smack him for being so explicit, but he sees nothing wrong with it, “uh, yeah, that’s the best case scenario. that or i’m doing it for ‘em. i’m gonna put it at 4, just cause it’ll mean they di-“

“alright! richie, relax, next one, oh my god,”

“one armed hug? uhm, huh…i don’t like this one, it’s too comfortable, y’know? i always have my arm around you, it’s kinda like that. it’s weird if someone else does it to you,” he cringes at the idea of it and then taps his finger to seven, “yeah, no that shit is weird and i’m killing whoever does that shit to you,”

“richie, please, you’re not killing anyone,”

“uh, yeah, i’m killing the motherfucker that gives you a one arm hug. the fuck?”

you laugh and hug his waist, eagerly waiting for the next one. and finally, an interesting one came up.

“uh, what the fuck am i looking at, [name]?” his voice raises ever so slightly and he’s looking back and forth between you and the screen, “you hugging other guys — at the waist? what the actual fuck is this?” you laugh at his dramatic question, “no, nothing is funny, what the fuck? ew, why are they posed like that — making all that eye contact and shit. fuck, no, [name], that shit should be a twenty.”

“so, nine?”

“yeah, cause i got no other fucking choice,” he says, in a matter a fact voice.

the next one makes you burst out in laughter, “pick pocket hug? a pick pocket hug?!” he anunciates each word as if its his last, blinking repeatedly at you, “what the fuck, babe? no, that’s an eight! the drawings have their hands inside of each other’s assholes! look!”

“no, they don’t! it’s just, like, on the butt…?”

“oh, so you’re defending this?”

“shut up, i’m just saying, what you said is a little of an exaggeration,”

“no, it’s not, that’s basically butt sex — and you can’t have butt sex with anyone but me!”

”obviously, richie, but it’s just like hypothetically!”

“even hypothetically!” he stubbornly calls out, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ”let’s just get all this shit over and done with, please, i‘m growing gray hairs over this,”

“next is…cuddle…”

“you’re literally just cheating on me, you’re cheating on me,” he accuses you and you know he’s (half) joking and teasing, but with the look in his eyes and tone of his voice, anyone would think he was serious. which is why you’re laughing so hard, “you are fucking cuddling with another man, how the fuck do i make this a ten? this shit is terrible, that’s the worst ever, babe!” you’re still laughing and he’s shaking you back and forth, “where the fuck am i supposed to put that?”

with 5 and 6 being the only ones left, he has to settle for tapping 6 and cursing under his breath the entire time.

“no fucking way you’re ever cuddling with someone else, that’s a sacred thing, y’know? meant for people that are dating — wouldn’t even let you cuddle with cousin, shit is nasty.”

“i know, baby, i wouldn’t cuddle with anyone else but you anyway,” you kiss his cheek before looking back at your screen and waiting to see the last one.

“man, i fucking hate this game,” he groans, seeing he has to now put an eye to eye hug at number 5. “first of all, who the fuck is hugging eye to eye anyway?! second of all, why are you even doing all that?” he’s asking as if you’re actually doing this other people, “looking into their eyes and shit, fucking a little creepy, hello!”

“so you don’t mind it being a five?”

“fuck that shit, that shit is definitely a ten, but well, there’s nothing i can do about it now!” he looks flabbergasted at the whole “dilemma”, running a hand over his short hair, “fucking, what the hell, why are you hugging other guys like that, baby? really? why you gotta have-“

“i’m not actually doing any of this, richie,” you defend yourself, but your boyfriend just mocks your reply with ease, making you smack his chest.

“no, my man isn’t allowed to hug other people, so all of that shit is a hard ten. i’ve changed my mind,” he finalizes, now speaking to the camera. you’re satisfied with that ending, hitting the button to stop the recording and bringing your phone down to your eye level.

“thank you for entertaining me, richie,” you murmur against his skin, now watching over the video and smiling to yourself at the result, “you’re adorable,” you kiss his chest through his hoodie and he just squeezes you tighter.

“most annoying one you’ve asked me to film yet, can’t believe that’s even a thing,” he leans his cheek onto the top of your head and rests there comfortably while you both watch over the video, “hey, you’d never let another guy catch you in a hug, right?”

you laugh, looking up at him and playing with his short stubble, “never, baby, that’s why i got you,”

“damn straight,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing you softly, “tell all your silly followers that we’re married while you’re at it,”

“they’re not the ones hugging me like that, richie,” you chuckle, but don’t miss a beat in making the caption something adjacent to what he had told you.

“so there’s other people hugging you like that, though?”

“no? oh my god, you’re giving me a headache,”

“and you’ve just broken my heart, so well, fuck both of us then.”

that night your tiktok blew up and a lot of people were commenting over how cute your guys’ relationship is and how entertaining richie is, as well as cutely, aggressively protective. you made it up to him by buying him dinner with the money you had made off of the video, to which he half-heartedly said, “if that shit gets us to eat dinner like this every week, doll, i’ll film all the tiktacs you want,” and he’s sealing that promise with a kiss.

“awww, old man richie still gets a lil jealous <333”

“literally the cutest couple ever, i was waiting for you to get him to hop on this trend!!”

“not the death threat over the one arm hug LMAOAO”

“richie does nooott play, swear to god i’ve heard rumors he always stay strapped im ltr deeaaadddd”

#the bear x reader #the bear x male reader #richie jerimovich x male reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich imagines #richie jerimovich one shot #richie x male reader #richie x reader #richie the bear imagines #richie the bear x reader #richie the bear x male reader #richie jerimovich the bear #the bear fx imagines #the bear imagines #male reader #x male reader

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bullet-clubs-bitch · 9 months ago

Note

Could you please do a hc of any of the wrestlers you write for reacting to their so telling them they are Pregnant please?

AEW Wrestlers Pregnancy Headcanons

Aew wrestlers reacting to you telling them you are pregnant with there child

Wrestlers Mentioned: Billy Gunn, Cash Wheeler, CM Punk, David Finlay, MJF

Main Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Billy Gunn

When you told Billy you were pregnant he was shocked

He coudn't believe that he would be a father again when his two sons were in there late 20s-early 30s

He was scared but exited

Sure it was a suprise but what was he expecting

Sure he was older but having a younger girlfriend with high fertility could allow for something like this to happen

When he told his sons the news they didn't know what to think, they could have children themselves, how would you feel if your sibling had a 30 year age gap.

During your pregnancy Billy would spoil you, protecting you from the media, not wanting the negitive publicity cause stress to you and your baby

Billy promised he would be there for every ounce of your pregnancy and he was a saint

Cash Wheeler

When Cash found out you were pregnant he was beyond exited

He coudn't wait to share the news with his best friend Dax

Cash spent years looking up to the relationship with Dax and his wife, he always wanted to have children of his own

Being a first time dad Cash wanted to make sure everything was perfect, he read every book, he took an online course, he wanted to be the perfect dad

Cash would spoil your uborn child, he would bring home souvenears from every city he visited

He insisted on building everything himself, he built a beautful nursery

Cash would be the best father, he would love your child so much

The two of them would grow up to be best friends

CM PUNK

For some reason I feel like CM Punk would either be so supportive or would leave, no in between

CM Punk is the type to have a controversaly young girlfriend who he would eventualy leave for a younger girl (Don't get me wrong I love Punk I'm feeling this vibe rn)

The reason why CM Punk doesn't have kids at 45 isn't because of the multiple unstable relationships he has had. It's because he is scared of the idea of having kids, scared of the responsibility

When you told Punk you were pregnant he said nothing, he just held you as you cried.

You were scared and he was terrfied

He knew he would be a bad dad, he didn't want the responsibility of taking care of a human life

One day you woke up and he wasn't next to you

You looked around your shared appartment to see all of his things gone, the only think left was a note that read "I'm sorry" that was placed next to a waud of cash.

David Finlay

After being friends with bennfits with David Finlay you would fall pregnant

It was a shock, you had no idea how David would react

When you told David he was just as shocked as you were

It took him a while to even form words but when he did they were nothing but words of support

He wanted to support you, he was onboard with whatever you wanted to do, after all it was your body

He was exatic when he found out you wanted to keep your baby

He coudn't wait to be a dad

Some of the other members of Bullet Club teased him for it but he didn't care

David Finlay was made to be a father, he is such a daddy

He would protect you and your son, he would do ANYTHING to keep you safe, even ......murder

Maxwell Jacob Friedman

When you told Max you were pregnat he almost fainted

Sure he wanted kids but not now

The first thing he thought of was leaving, it was a coward move but he was scared

He booked a weekend trip claiming it was for work and left for a few days to compose himself

When he returned it was like he was a diffrent man

He became exited, he would buy matching burberry outfits for him and your future child

Max would marry you immediately and promise to be there through it all and he was

Max would spoil your child with expensive things and designer clothing

He would end up being a great father

An: I hope you enjoyed it!

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livlaughloveluke · 1 year ago

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𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ever since that night on the rooftop, you’ve known

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a little cursing, brief mention of past toxic relationship, ethan being an absolute sweetheart

𝐚/𝐧- clearing out my drafts rn so im kinda posting a lot! this ones kinda short and sweet, but i think its cute 💗 also, you might want to listen to margaret by lana del rey, it will help this make sense 😭

margaret (feat. bleachers) by lana del rey

02:45 ━━━━●───── 05:40 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

ethan’s heart sunk at the sight of someone on the roof, where he normally he spent his sleepless nights, thinking alone. he cautiously approached the mysterious figure, only to find out that it was a women who looked to be around his age, dressed in a lengthy white dress, with gorgeous shimmery pearls hanging loosely around your neck.

there was something enchanting about this moonlight. you looked incredible, despite your glossy eyes and runny mascara, which had given away the fact that you had been crying.

“you okay?” ethan muttered, unsure of what to do or say to the dazzling young girl. you jump, startled by the presence of another person. you wipe away what was left of your mascara, trying to clean up a little.

“yeah..? yeah.” you said, the first word sounding like you were trying to convince yourself, while the second ‘yeah’ sounding more persuasive and firm.

“wanna talk about it?” the brown eyed boy suggested, unsure where he got his confidence from. something about the stranger on the rooftop made him want to learn more.

“well, my boyfriend just broke up with me on our 6 month anniversary. he said he was taking me out to celebrate, but ended up dumping me while we were eating, elle woods style.” you shared.

“he sounds like a real asshole. maybe it was for the best.” ethan stated.

“i think you’re right. he was kind of an asshole.” the girl giggled in response.

ethan grinned, taking in her beauty as they stared at each other.

“well, i shared my story, now what about you? why are you here tonight? your girlfriend dump you?” you jokes, although you remained curious to what he reply was.

“uhm- no, no girlfriend. i like to come out here when i cant sleep. it helps me think.” he answers, taking a deep breath of the crisp, chilly air. he approached the ledge, and sat down, legs hanging off the building. it was scary the first few times, but recently he came to enjoy it. there was something so freeing about the risks of being this high up.

you mirror his actions and sit next to him. you look at the breathtaking view, before realizing there was a much better view right beside you.

you face him to ask a question.

“how do you know?”

ethan tilted his head in confusion, your question was to vague for him to answer. you continue talking, giving more context.

“what if he was the love of my life? how do i know?” this time, ethan can answer your question easily.

“that’s your answer, the answer is no. if you have to ask, then he wasn’t your true love. when you know, you’ll know.”

you just hummed in response.

“we never properly introduced ourselves. I don’t even know your name.” you inform him.

“we don’t even know each others names, and yet i still feel closer to you than anyone else in my life.” he added, letting out a dry chuckle, trying to hide how pathetic that was.

“i feel the same. you probably know more about my feelings than any of my friends, and we’ve known each other for what, five minutes?” you added. he was relieved that you shared the same emotions as him.

you stuck out your hand. “my name is y/n.”

ethan got the memo and reached to shake your hand. the contact made butterflies fill his stomach. “my name is ethan.” he replied.

“ethan? i would have never guessed that was your name. don’t get me wrong, i think its lovely, but you look more like a conner to me.”

ethan laughed at your comment, and swiftly formed a response. “conner? really? i think i look more like an axel.”

“i could see that i guess, but all i can think about when i hear the name axel is this kid who bullied me in second grade.” you giggle.

“you were bullied by a kid named axel?” he teases.

“yes!! and every day he would tell the teacher on me for something I didn’t even do!! and worse, the teacher believed him!” you were now full blown laughing, along with ethan who was starting to really enjoy talking to you.

you and him continued chatting a little longer, asking basic questions, but you wanted more. you wanted to know the real ethan.

“im tired of all these simple questions. lets go more in depth. for starters, if you only had one day left to live, would you tell anyone? why or why not?” you ask him.

“woah. to be honest, i don’t think i would tell anyone until the end of the day, you know? why ruin your last day alive by being constantly pitied, if you could spend it happily with the people you love most?” he announced, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“now i ask you something. if were getting murdered, and got to choose the way you were killed, what would you pick?”

“wow, that took a turn. i would probably choose to get poisoned. its not painful really, and its pretty quick. just don’t poison me with bleach. i hate the smell of it.” you declared.

this caused you both to start laughing again, to the point where your stomach hurt. after your giggle fest, your exhaustion got the best of you, and you yawned, sleepily. your actions did not go unnoticed by ethan, and he decided to call it a night. he helped walk you home, making sure to keep you safe.

you talked the whole way home, mainly about your music taste. he was into the alternative indie kinda music, and you bonded over a few artists. then, you reached your dorm. you exchanged numbers, none of you wanting this relationship to end.

for the next week, you texted each other constantly, giving song recommendations, and just learning about one another in general. you figured out you both went to blackmore university, and took a few of the same classes. you were surprised you hadn’t seen him before, but then again, two weeks ago you weren’t looking.

you were supposed to meet him on the rooftop again tonight. this time however, you wouldn’t be caught sulking in a dress. you changed into a more comfortable, yet gorgeous look.

eleven pm rolled around, and you headed up to the roof. ethan was already waiting for you, a bouquet of tulips in his hands. he handed them to you, and you couldn’t hold your smile back.

“how’d you know these were my favorite?!” you questioned him.

“you’re mentioned it a couple times. i researched the meaning, and it turns out they symbolize growth and new beginnings, which i thought was perfect, because of your recent relationship ending and uh i-“

you cut him off with a hug, holding the flowers off to the side, not wanting to crush them. you pull apart so you could face him when talking.

“they’re beautiful, eth. I can’t believe you put so much effort into them.” you informed him.

your ex boyfriend was a total dickhead, who never really cared. you weren’t sure if he even got you flowers once in your relationship. it was new having someone that cared, and the feeling of being truly loved was definitely not unwelcome.

you both sat on the edge and started babbling like last time.

“you know who i’d think you’d like? faye webster. she’s really good, and while she’s well known, she’s definitely underrated.” you blurt out.

“I’ll listen to her tonight. whats your spotify?” he asks. you share your account and both follow eachother. he starts scrolling through your playlists and reviewing them.

“taylor swift? really, y/n? i thought you were better than this.” he sarcastically says. you act offended, before retorting back.

“taylor swift is so good! she’s popular for a reason. maybe you just haven’t heard the right album. i feel like you would like evermore or folklore.” he shakes his head, disapprovingly. he claimed he would never listen to one of her songs. (he spent 2 hours that night listening to the albums you suggested)

eventually, it got late and he started walking you home. out of the blue, he asked you an important question.

“would you maybe want to go out with me one night? officially?” he managed to stutter out.

“i’d love to, eth.” you respond.

you had never really been completely sure of something, but that night you knew one thing. you were in love with ethan landry.

#jack champion #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion x actress! reader #liv’s writing !

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tlouxx · 1 year ago

Text

Electromagnetism

~ ellie williams x reader

——————————————————————————

part two <3

synopsis: you and ellie williams have been long time rivals. you are a physics majors at wellesley college, and you’re competing for the same spot in the prestigious dr. ramsey’s lab as ellie. suddenly neither of you can escape the other as you’re both trying to navigate your final year of college.

content: college!ellie, modern au, mean!ellie, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, eventual smut, swearing, banter, just trying to intro ellie and reader rn

an: this is the first fic i've written! i hope you enjoy :) pls be kind

——————————————————————————

I want this year to be better. To achieve more. To get everything I have wanted. Well.. I want this to be the year I best Ellie Williams. It has been so frustrating to get second best to her no matter how hard I try. I study 15 hours for the exam. She studies for 20. I get a 98 on the lab report. She gets a 100. I can’t stand this girl. This year I have a fire under my ass. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the lab position with Dr. Ramsey, and I know Ellie is gunning for it too…

...

Day One - PHYS 302: Quantum Mechanics

Fuck. I know I'm going to be late. I had been up until 2:00 a.m. devising a plan for how I was going to handle all of the stress of senior year. Between tutoring, a full class load, and working on my thesis, I am going to have no life outside of school. Although, I’m kind of fucking it up already by waking up late for the first day of class.

…

I am sprinting through campus trying to navigate through the thick of the freshman class wandering aimlessly around. I have 1 minute and 39 seconds to make it on time before Dr. L locks the door. (She’s a bit famous for doing that). It’s mid august and hot. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, and my bangs are clinging to my forehead. I see a shortcut to the physics building through the freshly landscaped garden. Dirt and mulch kicks up my jeans, but I don’t care. Behind me, I hear yelling. “Move out of my way!!” I look momentarily to see none other than Ellie Williams. Suddenly I don’t feel as bad about being late. She’s in her typical wardrobe of converse and a jacket too big for her, and she’s running toward me.

…

“Don’t you know she’s going to lock the door on us!”

“I know Ellie!” I scoff back. I book it knowing we only have 45 seconds left to make it on time. We’re both charging up the stairs. Ellie shoves me aside. I yell “Are you kidding me!” She simply laughs at me.

…

I’m following right behind her. I can feel the anger flood through my body. My cheeks are flushed, and I can feel my rage nearly leave my mouth. I know I’d only be stooping to her level. I see the door in my line of sight and feel the tension dissipate knowing we made it. We rush through the door with seconds to spare. All eyes are on us. I suddenly feel the anger leave and be replaced by embarrassment. I look around for somewhere to sit. PHYS 302 is a popular class with a majority of the seats being full. Ellie and I look at each other realizing there are only two seats left. Right next to each other.

…

We both glare at the other, but sit down knowing we’ve already caused a commotion by busting through the door at the last second. I’m angry. I’m irritated. This is exactly why I have to do better this semester. I know what I want, and I won’t stop until I see that smirk wiped off her face.

…

As class continues on, I glance over at Ellie. She’s diligently taking notes and hanging on to every word Dr. L says. I should be doing the same. This class is important to me, and doing well can help me guarantee my spot in Dr. Ramsey’s lab. I’ve been dreaming of doing my thesis with her help since freshman year. Right now though, I need to stop daydreaming about beating Ellie and actually do it.

…

I’ve always loved the atmosphere here at Wellesley. The campus is gorgeous and almost looks otherworldly at times. The blossoming pinks of the spring and the rich reds and yellows of the fall makes it look like a daydream. I have studied at nearly every picnic table out here. The sun is shining down on my face through the clouds. I look up and start to reminisce about the good times I’ve had here, but the heat is getting to me. I peel off my jacket before I enter my next lecture. I open the door to see Ellie Williams smirking at me.

…

PHYS 208: Intermediate Electromagnetism

“I didn’t think you’d be brave enough to take this class. Seems a little too… difficult for you.”

“Fuck off Ellie. You know I’m just as smart as you.”

“And I know how much it kills you that you have to work twice as hard to come close to me”

I laugh. “What kills me is that you think that’s true. I already know you studied for days for Dr. Ramsey’s final when I studied for a couple hours and got practically the same grade” I can feel myself getting flustered. I’ve been wanting to dedicate this semester to kicking her ass, and she can see it. I watch as her cheeks turn red. She knows I see her too. She turns back around in her seat.

…

The weight of the day feels heavy on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have said that to Ellie. Dina told me in confidence how much time she was dedicating to studying for the exam. I shouldn’t have betrayed her trust just to get back at Ellie. I don’t have much time to waste ruminating on actions. I have work in 20 minutes and a 15 minute walk there.

…

I work at the tutoring center on campus. I mainly help the underclassmen with the major prerequisite courses like MATH 205 and PHYS 100/107/108. It gives me a sense of fulfillment helping others. I know firsthand how hard these classes are. I probably wouldn’t have survived the first year without the help of the tutoring department. It’s part of the reason why I decided to work here making minimum wage. Plus it’ll make my application to work at Dr. Ramsey’s lab look better. I glance through the windows to get a glimpse of who I'll be working with this semester. I hope Dina and I get the same shifts like last semester. I’m sure you can guess who I see though. Ellie. Fucking. Williams.

…

I can feel my eyes rolling. I can’t escape her! Everywhere I turn she’s there. First both our classes are together and now she’s working at the tutoring center? This has to be some sick joke. I look up at her and smile. She looks away and sits in a nearby chair. I sit across from her waiting for someone to instruct us on what to do next. I do regret embarrassing her, but she started it. She nearly pushed me down the stairs just to get ahead of me on top of that too. Maybe I shouldn’t feel so bad, but my heart is still pounding as I look up at her again.

…

The tutoring center supervisor sees us sitting in silence together. She’s nice enough, but her wardrobe is stuck in 2013. I catch myself staring at her oddly patterned top. Ellie notices me staring and gives me a knowing smile.

“I’m so glad you’re both here! You and Ellie will be our main tutors on Monday, Wednesday, Friday for the core physics class. I think you two are already acquainted”

“Oh. I thought Dina and I would be doing that again.”

“Right. I thought you might say that, but with her new course load she’ll be doing Tuesday and Thursday instead.”

“I see.”

“You and Ellie are both top of the class! I feel so lucky to have you guys here.”

I smile and head down to the physics portion of the building.

…

Ellie is following behind me closely. I’m wondering if maybe she’ll apologize, but I doubt she’d ever do that. We both sit down at our respective desks. I look up at her again. I must’ve hit close to home with my comment. She’s helping someone with their MATH 205 homework. Ellie tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. She always wears it half up/half down. Despite our rivalry, I admit to myself that it looks good on her. Her complexion is soft and a spread of freckles paints her nose. She gives them a thumbs up as they leave, and they yell to Ellie, “You’re a life-saver!”

…

After a few hours of no students, I’m getting bored. I can sense the tension between me and Ellie. I think I should say something.

“Hey Ellie, I think I should apologize for earlier.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’m glad you finally are stepping up in this little game of ours. I needed a little extra motivation to step up my game so I can get the spot in Dr. Ramsey’s lab”

“God, I knew you were gunning for it too.”

Ellie gets out of her chair and steps closer to me. She creeps in closely. My heart skips a beat for a second. Fuck this girl will be the death of me.

She is only inches from my face. My cheeks begin to flush. The anxiety is bubbling up in my chest. My heart is beating so loud I think Ellie might hear it too.

“May the best win”

…

Oh its fucking on Ellie.

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x you #ellie x reader #dina tlou #rivals to lovers #ellie williams fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #college!au #college!ellie williams

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