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mymoonagedaydream · 2 years ago

Text

Part 1

Summary: Maybe the relationships worth fighting for were the ones in which you had to fight the hardest.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language, vague references to violence, light public wankery

Author’s Note: This one has been sitting in my inbox for literal years so I hope you’re still in an angsty mood after all this time. Was meant to be a oneshot but hey I got carried away what can I say.

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Three loud knocks hammered against your door. It made you jump every time he did that, you were used to your guests ringing the buzzer.

You checked the time as you hurried across the length of your cramped apartment, cursing under your breath when you saw that it was almost nine. Him finishing work this late was never good news. Whatever had happened, whether it be another drawn out meeting or an unplanned, after-hours assignment, it would almost definitely have left him in a shitty mood.

You sighed. It used to be that bad days for him were few and far between, now they seemed to outnumber the good ones.

Sliding the chain off and turning the lock, your heart sank when you pulled the door backwards and caught sight of his miserable expression. You wished so much that there was more you could do to uplift him when he felt like this but, short of marching into his office and scolding his colleagues as if they were suave-suited school children, you were helpless. All you could do was try to help him take his mind off things.

“Hey, Hot Shot.”

He managed to summon a weak but warm smile, planting a kiss on your temple as he shuffled past. “Hey. The crazy newspaper lady let me in again.”

“I figured,” you pushed the door shut and followed him inside, “did she give you another fistful of clippings?”

“Whatta you think?”

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and set down a few scrunched up papers on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. With a smirk, you picked them up and smoothed them out, scanning your eyes over the headlines.

“Bless her, she always saves the business stories for you.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Probably ‘cause you’re always in a suit and I’m always referring to you as Hot Shot.”

“You talk to her?”

Realising your mistake, you stopped absentmindedly thumbing through the clippings, lifted your gaze to his and shrugged. “Occasionally.”

He narrowed his eyes. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn't like the idea of you going near her, he thought it wasn’t safe, probably thought you’d end up locked in her apartment and chopped into tiny pieces that she’d save and use as bullion cubes.

So now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up your weekly visits to her apartment for coffee and cake.

Sure, she was a little intimidating to look at, with her wild eyes and deep, sunken cheeks, but she was a sweetheart really. She’d started tearing up newspapers in the downstairs lobby after her husband died a few years ago. He loved his morning reading and she loved clipping out his favourite stories and saving them for him, apparently doing it for other people was the only thing keeping her going now she was alone. You just wished you could think of a way to explain all that to Bucky without incurring his paranoia.

His glare wasn’t letting up. You knew if you didn’t swiftly change the subject there was a danger he might start trying to convince you to move into his much nicer, much bigger and much safer apartment again. As much as you appreciated the offer, it had taken so much for you to move to the city on your own, and you weren’t ready to give up your independence just yet. You were happy the way things were.

You cut in as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Rough day?”

His head collapsed backwards. “Mhmm.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, s’alright, just seemed like everyone was out to piss me off.”

“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

He chuckled gruffly as you flopped down beside him, his arm moving to cradle your shoulders and hug you tight to his side. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“You wanna order pizza?”

“Definitely.”

You leaned forward and rustled around for the takeout menu in your coffee table junk drawer. Bucky shifted slightly, out the corner of your eye you could see him starting to dig the fingers on his free hand into his knee. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking again.

“Can I pay this time?”

“We’ll split it.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-”

“Buck.” You gave him a look as you dropped the menu in his lap. “We’ll split it.”

He didn’t push back. You’d gotten pretty good at standing your ground out of necessity because, if Bucky got his way, you’d never be allowed to spend a single dollar. He earned a lot more than you, a helluva lot more, but you still preferred to keep things equal. You got by just fine.

The two of you settled in on the couch together. He hustled downstairs when the buzzer sounded and you demolished the pizza in front of the TV, enjoying the peace of each other's company, chuckling at whatever shitty reality show was on at 9pm on a weeknight.

Despite his best efforts, though, it was obvious that something still wasn’t quite right with him. He needed some help unwinding.

“Hey, you wanna hear something funny? It might cheer you up.”

His head lolled towards you, a wide smile creeping over his lips. “Go on.”

“So, at work this afternoon, Judy was doing her rounds upstairs when she noticed a guy tucked in the corner by adult fiction. It’s pretty routine to get the odd embarrassed reader trying to hide away up there but apparently he was grunting like a professional tennis player , her words.”

“Jesus.”

“Mhmm. So she called the cops and they hustled up there, apparently he’d been jerking off in the aisle to a fucking Mills & Boon novel called The Dark Duke . We had to get the janitor to get rid of it in a biohazard bag, poor guy. He’ll probably call in sick tomorrow from the trauma.” You were laughing through your words but, when you looked over at Bucky, an incredibly stern face was looking back. “C’mon, you gotta admit that’s funny.”

“It’s not funny that you’re around creeps like that every day.”

“This city is full of creeps, just so happens that a few of them have library cards.” You flashed your eyebrows at him, he didn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, Buck, you don’t think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“No, I don’t.”

The two of you fell into silence. His eyes flicked away from you for a second, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. You could see the words forming in his throat. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You really need to think about coming to work at my place.”

You jumped up from the couch. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re already in a shitty mood and me making the same argument I’ve made a thousand times before isn’t gonna help.”

You picked up the empty pizza box and trudged through to the kitchen, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t, unfortunately, because he decided it was smart to jump up and follow you like an irritating child.

“I just don’t get why you won’t take it. It’s better money, better hours and we’ll practically be-”

“Practically be working together yeah, I know, I’ve heard this speech before and the answer is the same. Thank you, but I’m happy where I am.”

“You wanna work in a fuckin’ library forever?”

You threw the box down on the counter and swivelled round to face him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about my choices like that, like you know better.”

“Jesus, I’m just tryna’ look out for you.”

You shook your head, in disbelief that you’d been dragged into this argument once again. “Whatever.”

“Is that it?”

“I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Buck.”

“I want to know why you’d rather stay in a shitty job and a shitty apartment than have something better.”

“Because I don’t want to work for your fucking father, alright?”

His face dropped. You realised that your words had come out with much more venom than intended but, in all fairness, this had been building up for a while. You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what kind of business his family was in and you wanted no part of it. Your love for him had helped you move past your unease about what he did for a living, because you knew with utmost certainty that he was a good man at heart, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. You wouldn’t allow yourself to get dragged in too.

He clenched his jaw for a second before biting his cheeks, his head slowly beginning to nod, anger rising in his face. You just waited. Anyone else might have been scared of him in this moment, of how he seemed to be coiling up like a threatened snake ready to strike, but you weren’t. He’d never given you any reason to be.

His mouth fell open but quickly snapped closed before any distinguishable words could escape. With a loud huff, he stormed away, yanking his jacket from the couch as he passed and tearing your front door open.

You saw him hesitate in the corridor for a second. He brushed his hand over his hair before suddenly lashing out, striking the side of his fist against the doorframe. The whole wall shuddered.

“Whoa, hey.” You hurried over and reached for his shoulder. “That looked like it hurt, are you-”

He grabbed you.

Your eyes locked with his, you’d never seen him this angry before. In fact, you were so caught up in his warped expression that it actually took you a few seconds to feel his grip, to feel how tightly he was squeezing and how his fingertips dug into the space between the veins and tendons in your wrist. You frantically looked down at his white-knuckled hand and tried to yank yourself free, hoping that any amount of resistance would encourage him to release. He didn’t let go. You looked back up at him.

No words were exchanged, but you saw in his face the moment he realised he was hurting you. The redness in his cheeks seemed to drain away in an instant, leaving behind a deathly paleness that highlighted how quickly the tension dissolved from the muscles in his jaw and forehead.

He let go.

With panic thumping in your chest, you quickly stepped backwards and slammed the door. You sheltered behind it, frozen, as he softly knocked against the wood and apologised over and over again.

You stayed there until you heard him walk away.

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Part 2

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lafiametta · 1 month ago

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Im so glad im not the only one still stuck on anora x igor😭😭 love them sm

As for a 1 word prompt i think hug could result in something sweet or even unexpected, but i could also leave a word-vomit here and maybe you’ll feel inspired by one of them:)) so let me just

ride, dinner, dance, call, sweatpants, beach, couch, deli

Haha, thank you for all the prompts! I’m going with the first one, but I may come back to some of the others because they’re so good! :)

She wakes a little before two and shuffles into the kitchen. It’s quiet, so Vera must be out somewhere. There’s a quarter of the Honey Nut Cheerios left, which she eats while absently scrolling through TikTok. None of it’s particularly interesting, so she flips over to her texts. There’s one from Vera (“went 2 nico’s. get more tp at the store thx”) and a string of messages from Lulu, detailing some kind of crazy shit that went down last night involving two of their new dancers, a stolen g-string, hair-pulling, and a broken bottle of Cristal.

The last one, sent an hour ago from a contact she put into her phone as Hunchback Weirdo, is in all-caps, as if he didn’t fully trust himself with punctuation.

COME BY AT 3 OK?

She holds down the text and sends a thumbs-up reaction. He’s been coming by her house every Sunday at three for the last month and a half and he doesn’t really need to text each time, but she knows he likes to check with her to make sure it’s alright.

They don’t ever stay at the house that long—normally she just grabs her jacket and meets him on the porch, then they head in the direction of the beach. It’s only a few blocks to the boardwalk, a wide expanse that somehow feels just big enough for the two of them to walk side-by-side. It was awkward at first—neither of them really knew what to say after everything that had happened in his grandmother’s car—but after a while the quiet grew easier, and they learned how to talk in ways that seemed safe. He talks about his grandmother a lot, and about growing up in Russia. Ani’s childhood stories are far less heart-warming, so she avoids them, instead detailing all the things Vera—or Vera’s shitty boyfriend—had done to piss her off that week, along with anything fun or outrageous that had happened at work. She’s got a job at a new club now, secured through a glowing reference from Jimmy, and like any place full of drunk men and insecure women, there’s always drama.

They don’t ever talk about what happened in the car.

She thinks about it sometimes, the memory pulling deep and hard in her chest, a strange mixture of shame and sadness and gratitude that she doesn’t know where to put. Being around him makes it a little easier, which is why when he comes by she always goes with him, despite how fucking strange the whole thing really is.

A minute after three there’s a knock at the door—Ani’s already in her jacket, fingers flipping back the deadbolt.

It’s warmer out today, a tiny promise of spring, but the wind is brisk and tugging against her hair and cheeks, and she sinks deeper into the bulk of her jacket. Igor’s only in a black hoodie; she doesn’t ask him if he’s cold.

Along the boardwalk, there are older men in rumpled suits and women in headscarves sitting together on benches. A kid runs along the beach, trying to get a kite to lift into the air. For a moment, they’re walking close enough that their fingers brush together and Ani quickly stuffs her hands into her pockets, doing her best to ignore the unsteady feeling in her stomach.

By the time they get down to Coney Island the feeling has subsided enough that she lets him buy her a pretzel, which she eats piece by piece against the metal railing overlooking the beach while he smokes.

She’s already told him about Nico, how he had clogged their toilet two days ago and then fucked everything up more by continuing to flush, the whole thing overflowing and ruining their bathmat.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” she mutters. “I can’t believe my sister lets him fuck her.”

She laughs a little, although it’s mostly a sigh, and then lets the silence settle around them as they stare out at the mostly empty beach. He hasn’t finished the cigarette yet, so she reaches out for a quick drag.

“So how’s Garnik doing?” she asks as she hands it back, not realizing until she asked that part of her was actually curious. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned Vanya or the Zakharovs at all, but it seemed a little weird he never said anything about the two Armenians, who he probably still saw all the time.

“Garnik?”

“Yeah, Garnik. His face still look like a fuckin’ raccoon?”

Igor shrugs, then drops the cigarette butt to the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his sneaker. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how your boss’s face looks?”

There’s a tiny shake of his head, and he turns to lean back against the railing. “I don’t work for him. For any of them.”

The words cut through her more strongly than the wind, leaving only questions in their wake.

“Since when?” she asks.

He turns his face to finally look at her, those blue eyes trained on hers in a way that always felt like she was something worth looking at. She had hated it at first—the intensity behind it—but now she’s wondering what it was really trying to convey.

“Since we come back from Vegas.”

For a moment she’s uncharacteristically speechless. He hadn’t worked for them since Vegas? He had quit his job—for what? For her? No, that made no sense. What was she to him? She had been a problem he had been sent to fix, a rock in someone else’s shoe, and then she had fucked him and cried all over him and run away. And now? She still has no fucking clue what they are. But she had thought she had been left alone to handle all of it, and he’s telling her that she’s not alone, that he walked away to meet her on the other side. And he’s here, with her, knocking on her front door every Sunday, trading stupid stories with her as they follow the path along the beach, looking after her in a way she hadn’t really understood until this moment.

He’s standing here, next to her, the March wind whipping against the fabric of his hoodie.

Ani steps closer until she’s right in front of him, her arms reaching out to tightly curl around his back. She remembers the feel of him, the warmth, and leans in, her cheek pressing up against the top of his shoulder. There’s a moment of hesitation—she hopes it’s only out of surprise—and then his arms wrap solidly around her, drawing her into the hug.

“Hi,” he says, the sound soft, like laughter.

“Hey,” she says, like she’s saying it for the first time.

[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]

#anora 2024 #anora movie #anora #anora mikheeva #igor #anora x igor #anigor #fanfiction #anora one-word prompts

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thornsnvultures · 2 years ago

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as you wish ♡

best friend!eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader

you're stressed and eddie's more than willing to help you feel better.

cw: 1.3k, smut, pregnancy/breeding mention, breeding kink but no one's getting knocked up here, period/ovulation mention, p in v sex, super self indulgent smut because this is where I'm at in my life lol

18+ only

"Hey, you okay?"

Eddie rubs his hand across your back. You're rolling a character for a new campaign he's running and all your rolls so far have been trash. It's not the only reason why you're having a bad day but it's not not making it worse.

"You seem kinda, and please don't get mad when I say this, but you seem kinda irritable."

You huff and slap your pencil down on the kitchen table. This can wait. You feel like you're crawling out of your skin and Eddie's patient hand making circles on your back isn't helping.

"I'm ovulating."

Eddie's already big brown eyes grow even wider.

"Uh. What does that mean? Are you on your period? Are you, do you need to see someone? Are you in pain?"

You wave your hand, dismissing his increasingly frantic concerns. He's such a good friend. A great friend who doesn't balk at period talk, just wants to take care of you, make sure you're okay.

"No, this happens before my period," you sigh and look at Eddie. He looks so unsure. He wants to help and doesn't know what in the world is going on.

You're a little out of your mind today it seems because the things you say next to your best friend can't be taken back.

"It means I want you to bend me over this table and stuff me full of your come," Eddie inhales sharply and you lean into his space.

Fuck it.

"My body is screaming at me to beg you to pump load after load of come deep inside me until I'm round with your baby. My pussy has been throbbing all day and all I can think about it pulling your cock out and riding you until I'm leaking your come all over the floor. Do you understand? I'm going haywire because of a biological need to get bred. So I'm sorry if I'm a little irritable. I need to come so bad, Eddie, but I know it won't be enough if I do it on my own and, god, I'm sorry but I want you so bad right now it hurts."

You're squirming in your seat almost to prove your point. Eddie sees it, sees you cover your face in shame, sees you hunch over in regret even as your thighs clench under your skirt.

"Jesus."

"I know."

His hand is still on your back, so you know he doesn't hate you for that little outburst. God, what is wrong with you?

"Does this happen every month?"

"Pretty much."

Eddie pulls your hands away from your heated face. He's smiling. Like it's funny. Like you didn't just go on a hysterical rampage about how you want him to breed you. Fuck, did you really say that out loud?

"Does the baby part have to happen?"

"What? Oh god no, I'm on birth control."

"Rad."

"Totally."

"So, how do you want to do this?"

Eddie's still holding your hands. The rings on his fingers feel cool on your warm skin and you don't know what he's taking about.

"I guess I'll leave," you try to pull away from his grip. "I'm sorry for dumping all that on you."

"Whoa, hey," Eddie tugs you back down when you try to stand and awkwardly shuffle away. He lets go of one hand to cup your cheek, tipping your face up to look at him again. "I asked you a question. How do you want to do this?"

"Eddie, you can't be serious. I'm sorry I went a little crazy there but-"

"Do you want me to fuck you? Want me to stuff your little pussy full until you can't take any more?"

Your usually goofy friend was using his DM voice on you, all low and serious. The voice he uses to create tension from behind his screen that always makes your toes curl.

"Yes. Please."

His thumb caresses your cheek as he moves in closer. He smells so good. A mix of his cologne, soap and something so distinctly Eddie.

Your stomach tightens and you feel a rush when his lips capture yours. It's slow, cautious at first and a little unsure, but you feel safe here in his hands. Eddie's your best friend. He won't hurt you. You trust him to make you feel good and when he asks you for a third time, "How do you want to do this?" You tell him, "Here. Now. Need you inside me."

Eddie quickly fumbles with his belt, pulling it open and off before dragging the zipper down on his jeans. Your hand sneaks inside and he groans, panting in your mouth when you find him and grip him tight.

His hands are on your hips then, tugging you into his lap as you pull him free from his boxers. Your hands are frantic. His are pushing your shirt up and over your bra, tugging the cups down so he can get at your tits. They spill over and he sucks a nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily on the sensitive bud.

"Fuck, Eddie!"

"Right, that's the plan."

You'd tell him to fuck off for being a smart ass but he's right. You need him inside you instead of holding him with a tight grip while he leaks all over your hand like you're currently doing.

You pull the gusset of your thong to one side and line Eddie up with your cunt. As soon as he feels your wet heat on his tip he's cursing into the swell of your breast, nipping and biting at your tender flesh.

"Use me, honey. Ride my cock. Want you to feel good. Wanna stuff you full of my come," Eddie rambles as he squeezes your tits. His hands and mouth feel so fucking good you swear you could come from that alone. Some other time maybe.

Right now you're slowly sinking down on his length. He's girthy and you have to focus and breathe, make yourself relax so you can take him. Because fuck you're determined to take all of him.

"So fucking tight, honey. Pussy's so wet for me. Be good for me and take it."

Eddie's hand is on your hip, gripping you tight and helping to guide you down. You cry out when he moves, tilting his hips to get a better angle.

"Oh fuck. Right there, huh? That feel good?"

You nod your head. You can't speak, all your thoughts zeroed in on finally bottoming out on his thick cock.

"Shit, honey, feel so fucking good. Ride me, baby. I've got you."

You grab Eddie's shoulders tight and bounce. It doesn't take long for your thighs to scream from exertion but you can't stop, you won't stop. The sound your cunt makes, your soaked thighs slapping against his is enough to push you to the edge, but you need more to push you over. He fills you and consumes you. Every ridge, every vein. You can feel all of it as you hold on to him for dear life.

Your tits are in his face, practically smothering him but Eddie doesn't seem to care one bit. His tongue and teeth worship your devour you like you're his last meal.

"Eddie, please."

"Please what?"

"Need to, need you to-"

"Need me to breed you? Fill this tight little cunt up?"

"Yes, fuck!"

"Take it then."

Eddie holds your hips still and you scream when he starts pistoning into you. He hits your walls just right and you gush around his thick length, soaking his boxers and thighs.

"Fuck, that's it, honey," Eddie wraps his arms around you waist and pulls you down, slumped on his chest while he uses and abuses your cunt. "Gonna come, gonna fill your pretty little cunt up. Everyone will know you're mine," he growls in your ear, "my pussy, all mine."

Eddie slams his hips a few more times before they stutter and grind into you, pushing into you to the root. You can feel him unload deep in your cunt. Hot splashes of come, as well as Eddie's pelvis griding against your clit, push you over the edge one more time and you scream into his sweaty neck.

You're both panting and sated, not caring for now that Eddie's come is slowly dripping from your stretched out cunt.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagines #best friend!eddie munson #my fics #nsft

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livwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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dedicated to my absolute storm of a day today

Today was one of those days where nothing stopped.

For the first time ever, all three of Steve and Eddie’s daughters are in different schools - Moe a freshman in high school, Robbie a sixth-grader at the middle school, and Hazel still at the elementary school in fourth grade, so their morning is non-stop from when Moe has to be up if she’s gonna get out the door in time to make the school bus (which is 5:30, meaning that Steve and Ed need to be up at 5:30 to make sure that she’s up at 5:30) all the way to when Hazel gets on her own bus at 7:45.

Most of the time, Hazel’s bus pulling away leads to a brief moment of respite for Steve and Eddie before their own days have to continue, just enough time for them to take a breather and spend a second together just the two of them and maybe make out against the kitchen counter like they’re twenty-six and had just started dating instead of nearly fifty and married for over a decade.

That day, though, Steve has a client for a therapy session at 8am (the first for a day of back-to-back-to-back sessions), so he’s out the door even before Robbie is on her bus, and then Eddie has to drive into Boston for a meeting about his book that he’s trying to get made into a movie (an animation of some kind, he’s thinking, stop-motion ideally like Coraline or Nightmare Before Christmas), and while he’s on his way back home, he gets a call from the elementary school that Hazel is sick and needs to be picked up (goddamn flu season), and by the time he picks her up and brings her home, Moe is out of school needing a ride to her club basketball practice, and Steve’s work day wraps up just in time to get Robbie to her violin lesson (he picks Moe up from basketball on their way back), and even once they’re all home again, it’s still a whirlwind of getting dinner on the table while making sure all the girls get their homework done and instruments practiced, and keeping an eye on Hazel who is either “sick” or “not sick” when it serves her to be so (she’s sick when homework time begins, not so sick anymore when the baskets of Halloween candy are brought out of their hiding spot as a treat after dinner), before they’re getting Hazel and Robbie corralled upstairs for bedtime and making sure Moe is making her own progress in that regard, and then once the girls are all tucked soundly into bed for the night, Steve and Eddie still have to clean up the kitchen and prep for the next day’s mayhem and get themselves ready for bed, and in the end, it’s not until Eddie is sliding into bed beside Steve that they’re to exchange anything more than a glance.

“Thought about you all day today, Stevie,” Eddie says with a grin as he tugs him in close.

Steve hums his agreement, shuffling until he’s sitting in the space between Eddie’s legs, his back against his husband’s chest.

“How was the meeting?” he asks him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ed shakes his head, “Ask me tomorrow. Just hold me.”

“You’re holding me.”

“Shut up.”

Ed wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, slipping a hand underneath his t-shirt to splay over his stomach.

Steve tips his head back against Eddie’s shoulder, relishing in the way Eddie is holding him – his grip just firm enough to feel secure and safe, tight in a covetous way, a way that says that Steve is his.

Steve likes being Eddie’s. Something about it has his heart swooping even all these years later.

The love between him and Eddie is the old kind of love now. Not old as in old news, but old as in worn-in and reliable and familiar and comfortable. It’s the kind of love he’d been aching for when he was younger, the kind of love that has him knowing exactly why it didn’t work out with all the other people he’d dated before.

“I love you so damn much, Stevie,” Eddie tells him, ”I’m just as obsessed with you today as I was twenty years ago.”

“I know – crazy, right?”

Eddie shakes his head again, “Inevitable. Just wanted to say it before it slipped through the cracks.”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything more, content to bask in a rare moment of peace and quiet with Eddie – his husband, his person, the love of his life.

Eddie presses a kiss to the side of his neck, blunt nails idling dragging back and forth over Steve’s soft stomach.

The moment is fleeting, as they tend to be these days, because Hazel calls for them from her bedroom saying that her tummy hurts.

Steve groans and moves to get up, but Eddie tightens his arms around Steve.

“She’ll be fine. Nine is definitely old enough to learn how to puke and rally.”

“Definitely,” Steve agrees as he pulls himself out of Eddie’s hold.

#steve had thought his days of holding girls’ hair back while they puked was long over #but then he had three daughters and sent them to public school and proved himself wrong #steddie #steddie dads #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson #just to be clear i'm not anti-public school #children are just germ factories

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verdemoun · 8 months ago

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So sorry for spamming your inbox 😰😰 but you mentioned the gang kinda infantilizing timewarp Kieran and thinking that he wouldn't know what sex is when in actuality that man FUCKS!!! And especially since I think you've said he has anxiety and autism or atleast autistic traits and it's common for allistics to think that autistic people can't make choices or advocate for themselves does he get a bad bitch moment of telling other gang members to STFU!!! And that he has infact been living in modern times for several years and doesn't need to be coddled through everything. Or am I looking into a single line too hard and I'm actually crazy

I am going to kiss your brain that was a very intentional deliberate line congratulations on picking it up!!!!! Yes that was a very conscious seg-way into the gang tending to infantilize Kieran a little and he will absolutely manipulate it.

Sometimes - sometimes he does appreciate it. Sometimes he needs those borderline childish comforts people wouldn't think to offer an adult. If Lenny is struggling they will offer him a whiskey and a night out at the bar, which if Kieran was already not in a good headspace would be Hell. The fact the gang would sooner bring him his safe snacks and hot chocolate and a plush blanket while he watches cartoons is comforting even if it is coming from a place of not entirely seeing him as an adult. But it gets irritating. Being semi-verbal, even when he expresses said frustration it can get brushed off and it just adds to the irritation . The gang freaking out over room shuffling to make room for a new timewarped person: Kieran he would offer his room knowing it was temporary and is fine sleeping on the couch, hell he'd probably enjoy sleeping on a bedroll in the backyard for a few days/weeks: but they won't even consider asking Kieran for anything.

But most of the time he manipulates it. Hosea never lectures Kieran about a job because poor helpless boy could never survive the real world so he gets to live easy staying at Bessie's house or Annabelle's being absolutely spoiled. All he needs to do is flash his big old sad eyes and the gang will give him cash for whatever he wants. Sometimes it's the latest breyer horse model, sometimes it's alcohol and a few galaxy brownies. No questions, no bills, he's living the millennium dream.

Javier is the first one to see through his pouty playing into the infantilization and is honestly just jealous he can't get away with it himself. Calling Hosea out like 'stop telling me to get a job you never tell Kieran to get a job are you saying my patito is less capable because his brain works different despite being you more than willing not to say anything to protect him from being a whipping boy in the old days???' and Hosea has to walk away he is simultaneously stunned and ashamed. Still doesn't start nagging Kieran to get a job and Kieran playfully whacks Javier for even risking putting the idea in his head. He likes easy street and feels he's bloody earned it after his life experiences.

The number one thing that reminds the gang Kieran is not baby boy is any shooting game. He is first pick in paintball or laser tag or anything similar because the Kieran Duffy 'tendency not to mention how capable I actually am' started long before modern era and he is a terrifyingly good sharp shooter. First time the gang realised he was the last man standing and had taken out everyone in pvp they were almost annoyed why didn't you bring this up in canon era and he brushes it off with a teehee I like horses more. Bordering on being a brat about it sometimes and the gang still don't notice how much they tend to infantilize him. He will abuse the assumption he is incapable of things like it's lumbago, he isn't lazy he just doesn't like being expected to work and for the most part won't go out of the way to correct the infantilized assumption he can't do things by himself.

#rdr2 timewarp au

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les-pompiers118 · 2 years ago

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The road home

9-1-1 ficlet | 2x03 coda | 1.3K words | rated Teen

I'm back with my little asphalt truck full of words to fill in the cracks between episodes, for @911hiatus' Week 4 prompt, "refuge." We were truly robbed (robbed!) of seeing the scene when Buck meets Chris for the first time. So here ya go: the first ever Buckley-Diaz Family Moment.

“So, you made it through your first natural disaster,” Buck says to break the silence in the car. The radio’s off, the road is practically empty by L.A. standards, and the power’s still out on a lot of blocks. Staying quiet just makes the night feel that much eerier.

Eddie huffs. “You say that like there’s going to be a lot more of them.”

Buck steers them smoothly around the curve of an offramp. Okay, maybe now isn’t the best time to suggest that disasters are going to be a regular thing, while they’re on their way to pick up Eddie’s son at his school after a big earthquake. Even though he knows Christopher is safe, Eddie’s not going to be alright until he lays eyes on his kid. Buck gets that.

“I just meant that it was an intense day for someone who’s only been on the job for a few weeks. You okay?”

“Not my first rodeo, Buck. Warzones, remember?”

Eddie’s smiling in the dark beside him, Buck can tell, which means he’s not offended. “Yeah, but earthquakes are a different kind of warzone. The only enemy here was, uh—”

“Gravity?” Eddie finishes for him.

“I was gonna say tectonic plates, but yeah, gravity was definitely working against us today.”

“That elevator, man. Crazy.”

“Pfft, yeah,” Buck agrees.

“How many disasters have you worked, exactly? You’ve only been doing this for, what, a year?”

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. “This would be my second. There was that plane crash last winter, the one that went down right off the beach by LAX. Not a natural disaster, obviously, but a major incident.”

“Oh, wow. That must have been something.”

“It was… pretty bad.”

Eddie doesn’t say more, and Buck thinks he’s done with this particular subject, but then he asks tentatively, “What did you do afterwards? I mean, after your shift ended? How did you deal with it?”

Buck shivers, remembering the cold water and the smell of jet fuel that clung to them all on the ride back to the station. He remembers Bobby’s uncharacteristic silence and how his own thoughts kept going back to Abby and that call she took from a passenger on the plane. She was the last person that guy talked to, a faceless voice coming through his phone, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“I, uh, took a long, hot shower and got myself cleaned up,” Buck answers after a long pause. “And then I went home and watched TV for a few hours, I think. Sitcoms, reality shows, dumb stuff like that. Anything but the fucking news.”

“So you just try to put it out of your head as quickly as possible?” Eddie asks, sounding skeptical.

“And sleep. That helps too.” Buck grins over at him in the light of some oncoming headlights. “Isn’t that what you guys did in an actual warzone, when shit went down?”

Eddie chuckles. “Sort of. It was a little bit harder to take off the uniform and drive away from it all at the end of the day, though. And the sleeping part wasn’t always as easy, depending on where we were.”

“I bet. Hey, we’re almost there,” Buck says, bending closer to his phone to look at the GPS map. “Should I park in the lot?”

“No, just pull up to the front doors. They said they’d be waiting for me right inside.”

Buck has barely put the car in park before Eddie’s out and running towards the school. Leaning across the passenger seat, he watches Eddie’s silhouette against the brightly lit hallway beyond the glass doors, his impatient little shuffle while he waits to be buzzed in. And then he’s through and down on his knees to hug a kid who looks impossibly small next to the teacher standing there.

Buck’s throat suddenly gets tight and he blinks hard. He can almost feel the relief in that hug, the fierce love. God.

Eddie talks with the teacher for a minute, then scoops Christopher up and carries him out. Through the open window of the Jeep, Buck can hear Eddie’s voice, reassuring and cheerful, as they approach.

“Where’s your truck?” Christopher asks as his dad opens the back door and sets him into the booster seat.

“Some bricks fell off the back of the firehouse during the earthquake and broke the windshield,” Eddie explains. “I’ll have someone come fix it tomorrow, but tonight we get a chauffeur. This is Buck. He’s a firefighter, too. Buck, meet Christopher.”

Buck twists around to see into the back seat better. Christopher smiles right back at him under the dome light, all baby teeth and brown curls. Something grips the inside of Buck’s chest, both painful and sweet.

“Nice to meet you, Christopher,” he says. “One-way trip to the Diaz residence, coming right up.”

Chris cranes his neck a little to talk to Buck as Eddie gets him buckled in. “You and my dad work together? At the firehouse?”

“Yup.”

“Is he doing a good job so far?”

Eddie bursts out laughing and wraps one hand around Christopher’s head to plant a kiss on top of it. “Are you asking for my report card, kiddo? I don’t think it’s time for me to get one, just yet. And Buck’s not my captain.”

“He’s doing great,” Buck assures Christopher. “He’s taking to it like a duck to water. Just jumped right into the pond with a big splash and started swimming.”

That earns him a giggle from Christopher and a barely-concealed smile from Eddie.

Buck gets their address and they set off again. Thankfully, they don’t have far to go and none of the streets are blocked off. Christopher tells his dad about his extra-long day at school and what they got to do after the earthquake instead of their usual subjects. It sounds like the teachers pulled out all the stops to make sure the kids weren’t scared while they waited to be picked up—movies, games, and music in the gymnasium.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you sooner,” Eddie says over his shoulder. “There were a lot of calls coming in today.”

“It’s okay, Dad. You were helping people. And I got to make a volcano with the science teacher!”

“See?” Buck says to Eddie across the front seat. “Another natural disaster already.”

“Two in one day. I’m gonna need a few extra sitcoms tonight, I guess.”

Buck glances into the rearview mirror, where he can just see Christopher’s face in the booster seat, and tells Eddie quietly, “I think you have something better than TV to help you put the day behind you.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Buck can tell he’s smiling again.

It’s almost 9:00 PM when they pull into Eddie’s driveway. Buck expects to reverse right back out again and make his way to Abby’s apartment, but Eddie turns to him after he shuts off the engine.

“I know it’s kind of late, but do you want to come in for a bit? I can make us something to eat after I get Chris to bed. It’s just frozen pizza, but you’d be welcome to it.”

Eddie sounds tentative, Buck thinks, maybe because he’s a little embarrassed about the pizza (which Buck would gladly devour right now), or because they don’t really know each other all that well yet. Until this morning, Buck didn’t even know he had a kid. And now here he is at the end of the same day, parked in front of Eddie’s tiny mission revival house and being offered dinner.

“Come on,” Eddie coaxes. “It’s the least we can do to thank you for the ride.”

“Yeah, come inside,” Christopher chimes in eagerly.

Buck looks out at the house again. This is Eddie’s home and refuge, the center of his life outside the firehouse. He and Christopher are inviting Buck into their little world tonight, if only for frozen pizza. There’s a cricket singing somewhere in the bushes, and the porchlight casts a cozy, golden glow over the lawn, beckoning him.

“All right,” Buck says at last. “I will.”

#911 #911 fic #911hiatus2023 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #my writing

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c0zmo-writes · 4 months ago

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Notes for chapter 6 of Birds of a Feather.

Chapter 6- Calm Before the (Fire) Storm

@possum-quesadilla @raineisinkless @katslitterbox @crawlingcarcass

“his wings were stained a garish blend of orange and indigo. He was the world’s most depressing sunset.”

Orange- anxious, indigo- depressed

“(although, if he was being honest, he really just loved the feeling of Shilo's hands in his hair.)”

Poor guy is so horribly touch starved.

“They’d started watching a new movie every night. Tonight’s film was Little Shop of Horrors.”

Added this in because I love this movie!!!! I will go insane if I can’t shout out my other interests in my work.

“HE IS!!! I love shy, clumsy dudes with glasses,” he swooned.”

I think he’d be pretty fond of Adam if they met.

“Beetlejuice hummed in thought. “I guess I like a gal who’s self sufficient. And funny. And shows me the stuff she writes, even if I can’t read it. And lives in a remote cabin. Oh, and I love when a pretty girl tranquilizes me, ties me up, throws me in her car, and kidnaps me. I swear, that’s the hottest shit. Wouldn’t you agree, Shi?” He smirked. Shilo rolled her eyes.”

The story of how they met isn’t the cutest depending on how it’s told.

“Beetlejuice had taken a liking to fake flirting with Shilo. She loved to brush it off and scoff, but deep down… She didn’t hate it.”

…!

“Beetlejuice, what did I say about smelling me? It’s creepy.”

This is a semi regular occurrence.

“Experimentally, she dragged a hand up and down the feathers on his back... Immediately, he leapt up, the feathers on his back and wings blossoming into shades of light pink and yellow.”

Back touching is a very intimate gesture in harpy culture.

“He fought to free himself from the fuzzy fabric, but his feathers fluffed up and sent him further into his frenzy.”

I FUCKING LOVE ALLITERATION. Is this sentence a bit much? Probably. Don’t care though.

“Shilo picking at her hair.”

She’s got some hair pulling problems (just like me !!!)

“I did. When I told you about her, there was a… tiny detail I left out. Real small, don’t even matter that much! Honest!”

…

“If you had asked a seventeen year old Shilo if, in eight years, she saw herself planning out the murder of her best friend’s psychotic mother, she would’ve asked if you were mentally disturbed. But now, here she was, looming over a whiteboard with a marker in hand, writing the title: “how to kill beej’s crazy fire bird mom”.

Safe to say she’s had a bit of character development in those years.

“They swapped ideas between each other, until they eventually created a list that consisted of: “water?”, “stab !!”, “wait until she’s senile (may not happen within Shilo’s lifetime)”, “feed her to a wild animal”, “iron”, “holy water”, “garlic”. As much as Shilo insisted that garlic was for vampires, Beetlejuice was set on adding it as an option.”

Beetlejuice has already used a few of these options, but it never hurts to try again!

“Even though he was asleep, his head still shuffled until it rested in its favorite spot— right over her heart.”

He loves the sound of her heart beating <3

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfic #ao3 #beetlejuice boaf #beetlejuice x oc #harpy x oc #harpy au #boaf extras #boaf au #birds of a feather au

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bellabeebe · 1 year ago

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chapter one - starting point

(trigger warnings: blood, graphic description, swears, death)

Southern Ontario was home to most of the cast members of the infamous 2010 show, Total Drama World Tour. The teenagers had decided to throw a reunion party at a popular venue. It was a large hall, decorated with Canadian heritage, like flags dotted around on the walls. The party was hosted by Heather after she won the third series. Now, Heather wasn't one to host parties, but despite her mean exterior and personality in the show, she had a kind heart. The contestants would finally be reunited after a year apart.

The guests arrived one by one, contented by each other's presence. When stood outside, waiting, Heather spotted a familiar figure - someone that she was glad to see. She left her spot and ran toward him, laughing happily. That someone was Alejandro, her competition from the season prior. He swept her up into his arms and hugged her tight. "I'm so glad you could come." She smiled. The rest of the contestants arrived one by one, too.

The Drama Brothers, Total Drama's resident band, were ecstatic to reunite. No one, though, was more ecstatic than Izzy, the 'crazy girl.' Upon spotting her two best friends, Noah and Eva, she leaped over and gave them a huge bear hug. Eva wasn't mad about physical touch, but she made an exception with Izzy. She then bounced over to Owen, her boyfriend. He, as well as Izzy, loved physical touch and gave her a warm squeeze.

Once all the guests had arrived, the party began. The old friends chatted on and on, laughter and fun filling the room. The only person who was not surrounded by friends was Ezekiel. He barely had any friends, and usually took to being alone. This was probably because he had said something sexist in the first season - his dad told him to say it, and he didn't exactly know any better. Thinking back to that moment, Ezekiel realized that he shouldn't have said that. If he hadn't he would most probably be surrounded by friends. Alas, it was what it was.

Justin sat in a circle with his three best friends, Cody, Harold, and Trent, as they discussed new songs to publish as a band. Since Total Drama Action, he had stopped worrying about his looks as much. His friends were much more important than beauty. As he laughed, he noticed the homeschooled country boy sitting alone in a corner. Ezekiel was clearly sad, his eyes clouded with loneliness. He headed over to him, moving in an awkward bum-shuffle.

Ezekiel's head was buried in his arms by the time Justin reached him. "Hey." Ezekiel jumped. "Hey!" Ezekiel exclaimed in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to communicate with him tonight, let alone Justin. "You ok? You can come and sit with me and my friends if you'd like." Zeeke leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the group. Harold smiled and waved. The two sat with the group, making regular conversation with Ezekiel. To be honest, Ezekiel thought he was about to cry. Not because he was sad, though: because he finally felt appreciated.

Alejandro and Heather sat together on one of the couches, snuggled up in a blanket. She was asleep, lying on his shoulder as he and a few others watched a movie on the TV in front of the couch. Heather stirred and murmured in her sleep a few times.

The television, all of a sudden, glitched and the news flicked on. The newsman looked visibly distressed and disturbed, stray hairs sticking up off his head and eyebags sagging. It was an emergency broadcast. This hadn't happened much before.

"This is an emergency broadcast announcing the outbreak of an apocalypse. Labs all around Canada can not explain the sudden surge of these creatures - please stay inside your homes and only leave if urgent. Even then, stay protected, stay safe. May God bless you all. The zombie apocalypse has begun."

Alejandro urgently nudged Heather awake, calling the others over to the television. Some watched in horror, some started to cry. Some were in denial, some panicked. "WHAT WILL WE DO?" Sierra shrieked, hugging Cody, much to his annoyance.

"Shit, shit, shit.." Gwen paced around the room, biting her nails.

Bridgette's bottom lip wobbled and she burst out into childish tears. Geoff hurried to hold her, trying his hardest to comfort her. Ezekiel sat blankly in front of the news broadcaster, taking in every detail of what he was saying. This infection was spreading at an unnatural rate, due to the zombies' unnatural speed. His parents had taught him to always be prepared for something like this. He knew how to block doors. That was only his first step.

Moving quickly, he darted to the door a blocked the door handle with a chair. Looking out the window, he saw somebody outside. They were pale and bloody, with grotesque scars and blotches on the skin. Their eyes were that of a blind person's - light blue and glossy. The zombie twisted their head and spotted Ezekiel sheepishly staring at them. They let out a terrible screech and started banging on the door. "Oh God." He murmured under his breath, finding more objects to block the door with. A table, more chairs, wood planks. He sped back through the hall to where the teens were gathered.

"What is that noise?" Courtney gasped, going to investigate. Ezekiel grabbed her arm as she was about to move and shook his head solemnly. Courtney's eyes narrowed, and she sharply drew her arm from his hand. "Don't-" He shouted alertedly.

"What? Why-" Courtney was confused.

"They're here. Just please don't go." He pleaded, fear in his eyes. Courtney nodded and joined the rest of the group. Katie and Sadie clung onto each other, shivering and shaking more with each bang and crash on the door. Lindsay huddled into a blanket on the couch, Tyler comforting her. He held her, softly stroking her hair. Courtney saw how scared everybody was, and whistled with her hands.

"Right, we can't worry right now. We need weapons and protection. Heather, you and your family rent this hall every few months, right? Is there anywhere we can find an emergency gun or something like that?" Courtney exclaimed, passing her gaze to Heather. She nodded, yet said she forgot where it was. "Great.. that's another thing we need to do - find it. Until then, block all the windows and doors. It can be with planks, tables, chairs-"

"I saw a toolbox near the door - maybe we can use the nails and hammer inside to barricade the doors," Ezekiel suggested. Courtney smiled, nodding. For the next half hour, the teens got to work. The toolbox's contents were limited, but they made the most of what was there. The hall was flooded with the noise of dedication and determination. It was hard to hear yourself think with all the hammering.

A sharp yell could be heard from Heather - tears were brimming in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Alejandro asked, anxiously standing at her side. He looked down. Blood covered her finger, one of the nails sticking out of it. Heather winced when he touched it. "Is there a medical room here anywhere?" Alejandro questioned softly. Heather nodded, both of them standing up and moving to her guidance.

After the group had done the best they could, half decided to keep a lookout. No weapons had been found yet, and the emergency gun had not been located yet. If the zombies broke in, there was no protection. The risk was huge.

Everything was quiet and still until the dreaded happened. A lifeless being came into sight outside, looking directly through the window. It grinned, showing sharp yellow teeth, and lunged toward the door. It banged and crashed against it, the blockage only delaying its entrance by a few minutes. Geoff jumped back from the door in astonishment - it was surprisingly strong.

"Hide!!" Owen shouted, ducking behind the couch. Izzy dove behind too, followed by Noah. Eva stood protectively in front, her stance readied. The rest of the teens found rooms with lockable doors and hid in round corners or under blankets.

Disturbing guzzling noises sounded from behind the front door, sobbing too. Bridgette clasped her hand over her mouth, desperate to stay quiet. Lindsay clung onto Tyler, terrified. Her tears stung her eyes.

In a matter of seconds, the zombie had kicked down the door and was now on the hunt. It charged through the hall, screaming unnaturally. It headed toward Eva, hands outstretched. Eva's eyes widened, and she took action, kicking it as it came near. Izzy watched in awe behind the couch. It writhed around on the floor, Eva leaping behind the couch with her friends. Now, everybody was hidden.

It walked toward a table, where Beth was hidden underneath. It had seen her. Beth could not stand up for herself, or fight. She was a weakling. The creature lunged toward her, teeth chomping. Beth screamed, the zombie tearing at her flesh. Blood oozed from her fresh wounds.

Lindsay started to sob and was forced to watch as her best friend was torn to shreds. Tyler tried to block her gaze, but she still managed to see. She hugged him painfully, struggling to breathe. He cupped his hand onto her mouth securely. She couldn't make a sound.

Beth cried and yelled, her mouth flooding with blood. She started to choke on it as the zombie ate through her skin. Beth breathed one final breath and died there, on the same floor she had danced on a couple of hours ago.

The zombie stood up, its eyes flickering around the room. They landed on Gwen, her head sticking out from the blanket she was hidden under. It showed a grizzly smile, teeth coated with blood and saliva. Running toward her like an angry bull, Gwen screeched. Trent gasped.

Before the disgusting creature could take a bite of her flesh, a gunshot sounded. It was loud and shocking. Everybody stood up. Heather held the emergency gun in her hand, pressing the trigger down. Satisfaction rushed through her blood.

"Stay away, motherfucker."

The zombie lay limp on the ground, mouth agape and eyes blank. Heather spun the gun round in her hand and blew on the bullet hole. Gwen shivered in her spot. Trent sat with her, gently hugging her.

Everyone's gaze turned to Beth. Next to her, Lindsay sobbed and shook, Tyler holding her back. "No... Beth!" Lindsay's voice wobbled.

Heather helped her to stand up, telling her that it would be okay.

It was not okay.

It never would be okay without her best friend by her side.

#yes i did it #hehe #now you can all read :3

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naoyaslut · 1 year ago

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pairings: naoya zenin x femreader x toji fushiguro

warnings: n/a

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Over the next month, the big snowstorm that Lianne had mentioned had begun to hover over the Zenin estate. Luckily the proper precautions were taken, there was enough food and supplies throughout to outlast the big storm.

If you had an issue with being trapped in your room due to Naoya’s say so, now you were becoming stir crazy. Weeks ago, Naoya had informed you that Yasu had been retrieved from the dungeons. You were desperate to see how he was doing with your own two eyes, but Naoya wouldn’t allow it.

“He’s not in a state you’d want to see him in, give him some time to recover and I swear it, I’ll let you visit him,”

You frowned at the thought of Naoya’s words. He had said that weeks ago... and now. You brushed your hands over the front of your dress as if it would cause the small protrusion to go away. It made you uneasy, wearing the gowns that Naoya had made for you, the snug fabric showed a very small bump from your pregnant belly.

Last night when you went to bed you noticed nothing. This morning when you had awoken, the small bump had just… suddenly appeared.

But now, Yasu was up and moving. Naoya was supposed to take you to see him today and you were becoming impatient. It was well into the afternoon and Naoya hadn’t returned from his meeting with Toji and his father.

You paced back and forth in your room impatiently, glancing over your shoulder every thirty seconds. Your nerves were getting the best of you. You were both excited and afraid to see Yasu again.

You were unsure of how he would take the news of how things had unfolded. Your village being destroyed, your father perishing, … your marriage to a Zenin. Things had happened so quickly, and Yasu undoubtedly was in the dark for all of it.

“Lady Zenin, you have been shuffling around back and forth your room for the last hour... whatever is the matter?” Lianne sat in a chair near the fireplace, her fingers that were busy knitting a blanket coming to a complete stop.

Hesitantly you offered Lianne a glance and an even shorter smile, just so she wouldn’t inquire any further.

“I am just eager for Naoya to return… that’s all,” This was part of the truth. He had been away all day and there was no telling what he had been discussing with his father and the others.

Lianne rested the blanket in her lap and smiled. “The storms are beginning to pass… perhaps when some of the snow melts, we can tour some of the shops in town-”

Neither you nor Lianne had heard the doors of the room swing open and Naoya’s voice filling the hanging silence and startling both of you, with him interjecting at Lianne’s suggestion.

“What on earth would give you the notion of parading my pregnant wife around in town while pregnant, as if she’d be safe?”

Lianne tucked the blanket in her lap against her legs and stood bending at the waist to greet Naoya. She apologized immediately after.

“Forgive me, Lord Zenin, I was merely suggesting an outing since Lady Zenin has been stuck inside for so long…”

Naoya click ed his tongue in annoyance as he stalked across the room, his eyes widening marginally as he paused in front of you as if he were noticing the rounded protrusion at the front of your belly. He appeared to be stuck in place, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Leave us,” Naoya cut into Lianne’s unfinished apology abruptly and she quickly got up from her seat to shuffle over to the exit of the room. “Close the door behind you,”

“Yes, my lord,” Lianne’s words were mumbled before she closed the doors after her leave, leaving you in the room with your husband, who seemed fascinated at what his eyes had homed in on, your belly.

You stood in silence, a bit of nervousness falling over you as you watched Naoya creep even closer to your location. Not once had his eyes left your abdomen to look at you.

“Naoya?” You spoke tentatively, exhaling a shaky breath when both of his hands crowded around your stomach. His hands were large and the feel beneath them warm as they covered your belly face in awe.

“You’re beginning to show already… You must be further along than the doctor predicted,” Naoya’s grey eyes met with yours briefly before he dropped to one knee like had done once before. Eagerly, he pressed his ear against your tummy, one of his hands still cradling the small bump of your pregnant belly.

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell pregnant, but Naoya may have been right, perhaps you were further along than the two of you initially thought.

“It just… kind of appeared overnight,” your breath caught in your throat once more when Naoya lovingly pressed a kiss to the fabric of your dress, his gray eyes once more meeting with your own.

He didn’t stay kneeling for long, rising to stand with one of his large hands interlocking his fingers with yours.

“I will protect you and our child with my life, I promise you that,” He brought the back of your hand to his mouth lips skimming along its skin lightly before his lips curved into a faint but seemingly genuine smile. “I am eager for our son to arrive,”

Your face grew crimson in embarrassment from his actions. Ones that seemed to come along so naturally and were the stark contrast to his usual demeanor. He was stern with you at times, but this kind of talk and behavior from him… filled your heart with butterflies. But you were also afraid of what else was to come. What if you weren’t pregnant with his son, but a daughter? Naoya seemed so completely sure that the child would be male, what would be the consequences if it were not?

“I am eager as well…” your voice began to while trying to imagine what it would be like to have a family of your own.

A light rapping sounded at the heavy wooden doors before Toji’s monotone voice reverberated a moment later.

“The L/N clan member… Lady Zenin’s acquaintance is up and moving about, should she still wish to speak with him,”

Toji offered nothing more and after that lonely sentence, you could hear his footsteps beginning to recede down the hall.

You could tell by Naoya’s body language that it was the last thing he wanted to hear, he had become rigid at the spine and his jaw taut to prevent any obscenities from flying out of his mouth.

“Come, you wanted to talk with him at some point, right?”

------

Quite the surprise to you Naoya escorted you into a study on the other side of the estate where Yasu stood stoic, his face unreadable upon you entering the room behind Naoya. But his expression softened once he saw your face but then the uncertainty was back once he saw that you were pregnant.

“Lady... Zenin,”

Naoya stood near the double doors of the entrance, his back pressed against the doorframe, both of his forearms crossed rigidly against his chest. His Eyes were icy as he openly glowered at Yasu when he greeted you. It was as if he were daring him to cross the line. Of course, he wasn’t going to allow you to be in this room, alone with another man. It didn’t matter how friendly the two of you had been before this damned war had begun.

Instantly he could see your mood improve. You openly wept in front of the man and in turn, he sat ramrod stiff, unsure of how he should console you. Yasu’s gaze flickered toward Naoya briefly before he returned his attention to you standing before him.

Naoya wasn’t listening to the conversation that you were having with Yasu. He was simply observing how the two of you interacted. He wanted to determine if there was anything more than a simple friendship that had been established before you became his wife.

Now he was having second thoughts about keeping this one alive. Perhaps he should have died with the others.

Seeing Yasu seemingly rejuvenated caused you to shed the relief and guilt that had seemed to wedge itself in your chest since you had seen him last. Naoya kept his word and Yasu appeared as if he had been well taken care of. He was freshly shaven, his hair that had long grown down his back cut short and out of his face. He looked like you had remembered him.

You were extremely grateful and even moved to tears once you got to speak with him.

“I’m so happy you’re doing well, you look like a brand-new man,” You became silent as the guilt that was so heavy before slowly began to creep its way back into your gut. You knew that this war... none of this was your fault.

You had nothing to do with it. Both you and Yasu were victims of the circumstances... but for some reason, you couldn’t push aside the guilt that you felt for Yasu being confined here.

“I’m so sorry Yasu...” Clasping your fingers into the fabric of your gown, you began to wring the material until it started to wrinkle in your grip.

“Lady L/N-… Zenin,” Yasu corrected himself, offering you a faint smile. “Please, don’t anguish about any of this, it’s nothing that either of us could have changed. It’s not your fault,” Yasu stood up a little straighter, lifting a hand before dropping back to his side.

If this were under any other circumstance he’d comfort, you. But you were no longer a L/N. You were a Zenin, and he had no right, nor the privilege to touch you at all.

“I’m grateful for you, what you did to get me out of there. I owe you my life,”

Startled, you took a step back as Yasu took a knee before you proceeded to lower his head in thanks.

“From here on out I vow to protect you and your child in the future... alongside the new head of the Zenin Cl-,”

Naoya clicked his tongue, interrupting Yasu as he began to rise to his feet and waltzed over to step in between you and Yasu.

“That’s enough for now, Yasu has other business to attend to,” Naoya gritted out, his words curt and harsh. He seemed to be annoyed.

Yasu spoke of the new head of the Zenin Clan, but you weren’t aware of anyone else taking over. Naobito was the head of the Zenin Clan until he handed it over to either one of his brothers or Naoya or whenever he perished.

Whatever was going on, even Yasu knew more than what you did, and it was clear that Naoya didn’t want you to hear about any further details.

Naoya practically dragged you out of the study, his larger hand swallowing yours as he tugged you down the corridor. By now it was near evening, and the help was still hastily running around the estate, preparing everything so that the rest of the storm could be waited out in comfort.

Naoya stopped outside of the familiar double doors of your shared bedroom still clasping your hand in his as he turned to face you.

“I hope that little reunion was enough to satisfy you,” Naoya huffed, his thumb smoothing over your hand, ever so dainty in his calloused one.

You offered him a genuine smile, nodding appreciatively.

“It was... thank you Naoya-sama,” Even if it was a short time, you still appreciated what he had allowed, and even that Yasu was spared. It lifted some of the guilt off your shoulders of finding him down in that dungeon.

“Good,” Naoya released your hand and turned his gaze down the corridor to see Toji approaching once more. “I’ll have Lianne prepare a bath for you and bring you something to eat, it appears that there is something more I have to deal with before retiring for the night,”

Toji offered you a half bow the corner of his lips twitching up into a crooked smirk before he opened his mouth.

“Good evening, my lady,”

Naoya scoffed at his greeting, clicking his tongue in agitation.

“That’s enough, what is it now?”

Toji stood upright, chuckling lightly under his breath before his tone became rather serious.

“The girl's execution was postponed because of an oncoming storm, if we leave her down in the dungeons, she’ll freeze to death...” Toji raised a brow in question. “Are you fine with me leaving her down there?”

You gasped in surprise, the familiar feeling of dread creeping back into your belly. Emi. You had completely forgotten about her... and now both Naoya and Toji were discussing her as if she were nothing more than yesterday's trash.

“N-naoya...” You uttered his name in disbelief at what Toji was suggesting, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to get involved. “You can’t just leave her down there to die like that,”

Naoya’s jaw tensed at Toji’s careless words, knowing that it would upset you if you heard anything further about it. He sighed, releasing a heavy breath before pushing the doors open a bit wider.

“Go inside and wait for Lianne, I’ll return soon,”

#differences #naoyax!femreader #jjk lemon

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filmnings · 27 days ago

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firstly,, THIS WAS SO GOOD. like i’m blow away. the fact that she was so against him, fought against him and every urge she had for him tooth and nail but relented in the end and made her feel sick… i love the characterization so bad. like damn i felt like i was getting gaslighted reading it, couldn’t even imagine how she felt. like he literally showed up at her door after she was hiding from him!!! talk about crazy. and that friend who gave out where she lives WILL be dealt with.

your writing is so pretty and i still can’t get over that ending line. it’s like,,, he’s so perfect and does all these things for her and says all these sweet words and is the perfect image of perfection yet she knows what the truth is when the gilded mirror shatters and she get a look at his blooded and bruised body. top tier writing and characterization!!!!!

hehe now into the live reading reactions! (◕ᴥ◕)

“There’s only one person who would ever show up at your door this late at night, and you’ve done everything you possibly could to avoid him for the past four months.” immediately i’m calling the cops.

“You hadn’t told him your new address, hadn’t spoken to him since the day you packed up your daughter and what little you had and left him, never looking back.” STALKER???? omg how did he even find her

“The knocking only gets louder and more aggressive to the point that you begin to worry that he’ll wake the baby.” if he wakes the baby i’m pulling out my bazooka and showing him a real bang

“blood drips into his bruised, swollen eye from a large cut on his forehead, just barely visible behind his wet hair sticking to his skin.” giggles and kicks feet—WAIT NO. sighs i love when they’re bruised and bloodied and miserable it makes them 10x hotter

“Don’t fucking call me that, Christopher. Answer my question.” OOOOOOOOOO NOT CHRISTOPHER

“You had a sneaking suspicion of just exactly where he had gotten that money from” MONEY TALKS~~~ DIRTY CASH I WANT YOUU DIRTY CASH I NEED YOU~~~~

“Who told you where I live.” “…A friend. Please, just take it.” that friend has 5 seconds to show themself before i light up the whole world

“You slide submissively to the side, open the creaking door open further for him to step into your living room.” i fear id let him in too

“I just want to see my baby girl.” excuse me you heathen????? you troglodyte??????????

“Something warm and heady swirls in your gut, unwelcome but in no way unpleasant.” she’s thinking about having his kid again LMAOOO me too

“I’ve been looking for you two for months. How am I supposed to keep you safe, my baby safe? I had to track my family down like dogs. What kind of mother keeps a father away from their child?” oh bitch please gtfo.

“She’s not your fucking baby, Chris! That’s my baby. Mine. You made that call before she was even born. You’re not her family, you’re hardly even her father— you’re nothing to her.” EXACTLYY!!! tell him!!!!

“You scoff. “If you really care that much about “our future”, you would have stopped this. Fighting for these clubs. The racing, the gangs. You would have listened to me and left it all behind, gotten a real job. Show me that you actually give a shit and aren’t just blowing smoke up my ass. You’re addicted to this, all of it. It’s sick.”” TELL HIMMMMM!!!!!!

“”Get out.” Surprisingly, he does. He takes one last long look at your fussing daughter before slowly turning and shuffling out of the nursery.” AND DONT COME BACK!!!!!!! (please do)

“All the muddy shoeprints and puddles of rainwater.” THE ASSHOLE DIDNT EVEN TAKE HIS SHOES OFF??????

“I know you still love me.” Chan professes boldly, a wild spark in his eye. “I know you do, baby— you know I love you too. More than anything. Why won’t you let this— us—work? Why are you trying to run away from me?” hehehehehe id fold like a fucking lawn chair LIKE…. “i know you do, baby” FOLDED.

“I’ve missed you so bad… please, baby, don’t ever leave me like that again.” GODDDDD keep begging

“Your eyes flutter closed as you bask in Chan’s affection, preen under his loving gaze and delight in the way he cradles you as if you were made of glass— you feel so precious yet so fragile, yielding to a man strong enough to shatter you completely, leave you nothing but a pile of dust and broken shards.” this paragraph. woah.

“All you can think of is how passionately Chan devoured you, the force of his kiss almost punishing, like a soldering heat that bonds metal. Yet it felt like anything but a punishment, doused in a honeyed sweetness that called to you like a drug, dragged you under the waves of dreamy tenderness, filled your head with thoughts of how good it would feel to let yourself drown.” YEAHHHHHHH, also, this last sentence oh my god

“Come on, say it. Say you want me.” AHHHHHH

“C’mon, tell Daddy how badly you missed this.” i was just found dead. DADDY KINK LOVERS!!!!!!!!!

““Tell me you love me.” Chan grunts abruptly” OH????

“You feel weightless, floating, satisfied… and that makes you feel sick.” THIS ENDING LINEEEEEEE.

THIS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD HELLO??!??!!!

𝓑US𝓣 𝓨𝓞UR 𝓚N𝓔𝓔 𝓒A𝓟S 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 방찬

you can't seem to get away from your ex husband, no matter how hard you try.

⧼ 🩹 ⧽ 一 𝓹a𝓲r𝓲n𝓰 ⸝⸝⸝ ex husband!bang chan 𝓍 fem!reader 𝓲nc𝓵u𝓭e𝓼 ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ unnamed oc daughter

𝓰e𝓷𝓻e ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ non-idol au, smut, angst, porn with plot

𝔀arn𝓲n𝓰𝓼 ⸝⸝⸝ dubcon, street fighter and underground boxer!chan, criminal!chan, mentions of jail and gangs, graphic descriptions of blood and injury, toxic and possessive behavior, toxic ex!chan, manipulation, explicit language and sexual content, soft dom!chan, degredation and praise kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampies, dirty talk, breeding kink, impregnation mentions, clit slapping, daddy kink, squirting 𝔀𝓸r𝓭 c𝓸un𝓽. 6. 2 k | ⧼ 🥊 ⧽ 一 𝓽𝓸 𝓵i𝓫rar𝔂.

♫ 𝓫u𝓼𝓽 𝔂𝓸ur 𝓴nee ca𝓹𝓼 ❪ 𝓳o𝓱nn𝔂 𝓭on'𝓽 𝓵eave 𝓶e ❫ 一 𝓹𝓸m𝓹𝓵am𝓸𝓸𝓼e

[n𝓸𝓽e𝓼.] my first fic on my new blog! something shorter to start out with <3 this took me a little too long to write i'm afraid since it's my first go at angst themes but i'm pretty proud of how this turned out! this isn't proofread, so please lmk if there are any mistakes! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

THE KNOCK ON THE door makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach, cutting through the peaceful quiet of your kitchen like a knife. You drop the pot you were scrubbing in shock, clanging loudly as you grip the edges of the sink in a futile attempt to calm the pounding of your heart. At first you think— hope— that you were simply just hearing things, your little skyline apartment falling back into an uncertain silence sprinkled with the pouring rain outside, an atmosphere that no longer felt comfortable. But the knocking starts again, loud enough to be mistaken as thunder, ringing in your ears like alarm bells. You nearly jump out of your skin, your hands shaking as they reach out to turn off the water faucet. There’s only one person who would ever show up at your door this late at night, and you’ve done everything you possibly could to avoid him for the past four months.

It couldn’t possibly be him. It had to be someone else, your landlord or a neighbor or a maintenance man or anyone. You hadn’t told him your new address, hadn’t spoken to him since the day you packed up your daughter and what little you had and left him, never looking back. But you hadn’t called for maintenance, and you hadn’t heard from your landlord, and the way that his fist beat on the door as if it had somehow offended him was unmistakable.

You consider, for a split, mindless moment, that you could simply ignore him. He’s just a man, after all— a weak, spineless one at that, underneath that intimidating façade he loves to hide behind. He’ll give up and leave eventually, you try to convince yourself, but you know him far too well to fall into that blind hope. The knocking only gets louder and more aggressive to the point that you begin to worry that he’ll wake the baby.

The thought alone is enough to get your blood boiling, a red-hot anger overtaking any amount of fear or trepidation that kept you back. You refused to let this coward affect your daughter, wake her up without a single thought or care when you had just spent hours gently rocking her to sleep. Not after everything you’ve went through to keep him away from her.

You hurl the sponge into the sink with a scowl before spinning around and storming to the door. You wrench it open mid-knock, leaving the man on the other side of it standing there with his fist outstretched and blinking at you owlishly.

The sight of him shocks you to your core, despite how much you had tried to prepare yourself— blood drips into his bruised, swollen eye from a large cut on his forehead, just barely visible behind his wet hair sticking to his skin. The rain washes it away, down his chin to drip onto your welcome mat, staining it a faded red in the outline of his scuffed sneakers. He’s drenched down to the bone, the sharp ridges of his pecs and abs visible through his white tee shirt, the thin dark jacket he had draped across his shoulders doing little to protect him from the ever-worsening downpour. His dominant hand he curls protectively against his bloody abdomen; the knuckles are busted, and his pinky finger is twisted unnaturally to the side.

You look back up to his face just in time for him to flash you a weak, wobbly smile, a wounded ghost of the ones that used to send your heart soaring and fill your stomach with butterflies. His plump bottom lip is split down the middle, a jagged crater that threatens to open even further with every movement he made.

“Hey.” he croons, dropping his fist to his side, pained little smile dropping into more of a wince.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” you hiss venomously, praying to any god that would listen that he couldn’t tell how badly you were shaking. “How the fuck did you get my address? Go away before I call the cops. I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Come on, baby, wait—” you try to slam the door shut, but he catches it with ease, and even one-handed he’s stronger than you could ever hope to be.

“Don’t fucking call me that, Christopher. Answer my question.” You sneer, biting back hot, painful tears.

If any of your words hurt him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he extends his wounded hand, prying open his fingers with some effort to present you a bloody, crumpled wad of bills.

“For her.” He says simply.

Your eyes rake over the bills as if they were alien, hardly able to muster up the breath needed to scoff at him incredulously. “I don’t want your dirty money.”

You had a sneaking suspicion of just exactly where he had gotten that money from, it was written all over his busted, bleeding face— under no circumstances would you line your pockets with the bettings from street fights, feed and clothe your daughter with money that people had shed blood for. You had told him this when you had left him, given him the choice to leave it all behind or lose everything.

He chose the streets, and you kept your promise.

Yet you don’t have the strength to slam the door in his face, no matter how much you ached with the desire. Chan keeps the bills outstretched, the blood-smeared faces printed on them winking up at you, taunting you.

“Who told you where I live.”

“…A friend. Please, just take it.” He whispers, just short of begging. “I know how badly you need it. He told me you were struggling.”

“You don’t know anything.” you spit, but there’s no fire behind your words anymore. The rain has put it out, left you defeated, feeling betrayed, admiring how the streaks of lightning illuminate Chan’s hunched over silhouette. Your mind wracks itself for whichever one of his goons could have possibly caught sight of you, but you come up empty. You fear he may have found you through an inside source.

Thunder booms in the distance, much like your heart. The helpless, desperate look in Chan’s big brown eyes sends the rest of your defenses crumbling to dust.

he tries to shuffle his way inside, and you let him— everything inside of you yells at you to stop him, shove him away and close the door, never to look at him again. But you don’t. You slide submissively to the side, open the creaking door open further for him to step into your living room. No matter how hard you try to convince your muscles to move or your mouth to open and retort, all you can do is stand frozen by the door, watching with wide eyes as he drips blood onto the carpet.

He tosses the stack of cash onto the coffee table, the bills unfurling and flying everywhere. You count sixty, maybe seventy thousand won, all those zeroes staring up at you as your mouth goes agape.

You had been losing sleep for days over having to tell your landlord that you would be late on rent for the third time this year. Somehow, you feel like Chris knows that, though it was impossible to tell how— it brought you back to all the times before where you swore that he could read your mind.

It seems that he still could, even out in those dark alleyways, on the other side of the city. Tethered to him. Just what you were afraid of.

“You’re getting blood everywhere,” you finally manage to say, your usually strong voice timid and weak. “at least let me clean you up.”

Mindlessly, you scamper back to your kitchen, bending down to rummage through the cabinet beneath the sink. your first aid kit was still in there somewhere, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies and spare bottles, something from your old life that you had held on to just in case. It was as if you were moving in a trance, just sheer muscle memory, the situation all too familiar; you couldn’t count the amount of times Chan had come home just like this before, back when you were still together, beaten and staggering but grinning victoriously as you carefully clean and bandage him up. It used to excite you, even, in some sick, dark way. He never lost a fight.

But that was before you had gotten pregnant. Before the danger that lurked beneath the surface of your husband’s lifestyle creeped up on you and became all too real.

“I’m fine.” Chan replies gruffly, though the pain in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just want to see my baby girl.”

Your fingers freeze around the first aid kit, all the heat and color draining from your face. “You’re not seeing her.”

“You can’t keep me from her.” Chan replies coldly. “She’s my daughter, too.”

You jump to your feet so fast that your vision goes fuzzy, spinning around to watch with wild eyes as he balances his good hand on the wall and limps his way to the nursery. You hate how he still remembers where it is.

He smears a trail of blood across your tattered wallpaper. The sight of it shocks you into action.

“You get away from her!” You snarl, nearly leaping across the dining table to grab onto the sleeve of Chan’s jacket. “Don’t you dare go anywhere near her!”

He shoves you off effortlessly, his sheer strength nearly sending you flying back against the wall. “Stop acting like I’m going to hurt her.” He growls, making it to the nursery door in the time it takes for you to regain your senses. “You know I’d never let anyone lay a single fucking finger on her.”

He quietly cracks the door open and steps inside, leaving you to follow him biting your tongue— you can’t bear the thought of her waking up, especially now with Chan in the room. She hasn’t seen her father since she was born, and that was only because he had forced his way inside of the delivery room. He was essentially a stranger to her.

And, quite frankly, how she might react if she lays eyes on him again scares the shit out of you.

Chan staggers to the crib, quiet as a mouse, his large frame bending over the railings to look down into it. Your daughter lay on the mattress peacefully asleep, her little chest rising and falling with her soft, steady breaths. You’ve stared at her for hours before, studying every freckle, every wispy eyelash that brushed against her rosy, round cheeks. The way her nose is already starting to look like her father’s, his dimples forming around the upturned corners of her dainty little lips, always giving the impression that she was enjoying her dreams. Whatever they were, you took some comfort in knowing that they were, they’re better than what waits for her when she opens her eyes.

Chan is nothing short of entranced, grabbing ahold of the crib’s railings with both hands, so tightly that his cracked knuckles were threatening to split back open. He gazes at her sleeping little form with a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before— a fire burning, but not one that hurt or destroyed. Not anything like the fire in his eyes you were used to. It was one that warmed and protected, the watchful, dutiful stare of a weathered knight in armor.

Something warm and heady swirls in your gut, unwelcome but in no way unpleasant. You fixate on his face, unable to look away, and watch awe-stricken as your ex-husband refamiliarizes himself with his daughter’s face.

“She’s grown.” He whispers, undoubtedly able to feel you breathing over his shoulder. His voice is flat and lifeless, but it starts to break at the end— he blinks hard, and you swear for a second that you saw his eyes shiny with tears.

“Oh, she’s a monster.” You reply easily, the rampant emotions swirling around in your head calming down at the sight of your baby peacefully sleeping. Talking about her is soothing, almost therapeutic. “Always hungry. The doctor says she’ll be nearly nine kilograms by the time she’s six months.”

“My little girl… she was so tiny in my arms…” Chan laments, lowering his eyes to look down at his hands. It was like he was looking at someone else’s, shocked by the dirty, bloodied state of them. He suddenly wrenches them from the railings and shoves them in his soaked jacket pockets, the act causing him to grimace with pain. In the peripherals of your vision, you see faint bloody fingerprints smeared across the white wood.

You struggle to keep your voice calm. “She’s gotten so big so fast… it feels like that day was just yesterday.”

Chan’s gaze hardens and grows cold again, his head spinning to stare you down with an ironclad sharpness. “Not to me!” he spits, gritting his jaw. “Not when you wouldn’t let me ever fucking see her, wouldn’t tell me where you were, how you were doing. I’ve been looking for you two for months. How am I supposed to keep you safe, my baby safe? I had to track my family down like dogs. What kind of mother keeps a father away from their child?”

Your shoddy mask of calmness cracks, red hot anger flaring back up again and rising to the surface. Your voice trembles terribly, but the disgust in your words is palpable. “She’s not your fucking baby, Chris! That’s my baby. Mine. You made that call before she was even born. You’re not her family, you’re hardly even her father— you’re nothing to her.”

The last comment strikes a chord within him. He stalks towards you, his dark eyes boring into yours, all that stormy emotion churning in them focusing directly onto you. Chan isn’t exceptionally tall, but you feel so incredibly small underneath him; he looms over you like some kind of predator, his lip curling back into a nasty snarl. “I’m nothing to her because you made it that way.” He seethes, his deep voice growing louder and louder. “Don’t you ever try to put it in my baby’s head that I don’t love her. Stop trying to convince yourself, for fuck’s sake— you both are absolutely everything to me, you know that. Everything that I do is for our future.”

You scoff. “If you really care that much about “our future”, you would have stopped this. Fighting for these clubs. The racing, the gangs. You would have listened to me and left it all behind, gotten a real job. Show me that you actually give a shit and aren’t just blowing smoke up my ass. You’re addicted to this, all of it. It’s sick.”

“You don’t fucking get it, do you?” Chan sneers, shoving his face up against yours. “You just can’t get it into your dumb, pretty little head. What kind of “real job” is gonna take an ex-con? Even if they do, I wouldn’t make nearly as much money as I can out on the streets. All I want to do is provide for you and our daughter; can’t you see that? I’m doing what I have to do to survive. My own future is fucking ruined. You two are all I have left.”

“And you’ll ruin ours too!” you laugh incredulously, directly in his face. “With all your blood money and all the enemies you make. You’re going to get arrested and locked up again, destroy mine and my daughter’s lives— fuck, you’ll get us all fucking killed! What if someone you beat wants revenge?! These are dangerous people, Chris!”

“That’s what I’m trying to protect you from!!” Chan roars, slamming his fist against the crib’s guardrail. His voice and the loud thump startles you, all three of you— you and Chan both peer down into the crib to see your daughter’s peaceful sleeping face screw up, her mouth opening to let out a shrill wail as she kicks out her little chubby legs.

Chan’s face falls, all the bitterness and anger leaving his body in a rush, like he had a bucket of cold water poured over the head. He looks the part, anyway, still dripping wet from the rain, tearing his eyes away from your own to stare down at your daughter as if she were a ghost. Your rage overtakes you to the point it can no longer contain it, your entire body shaking as you manage to grit out two icy words;

“Get out.”

Surprisingly, he does. He takes one last long look at your fussing daughter before slowly turning and shuffling out of the nursery. Your eyes bore holes into his back as he retreats, expecting him to turn around at any moment with some more nasty words to sling your way… but he never does. He stays completely silent as he shoulders open the door, doesn’t even turn to look back at you as it clicks shut behind him.

Part of you wants to follow him, chase him out snarling and snapping like some guard dog, but your daughter’s frightened little cries tug painfully at your heart strings. Tears of your own pool in your eyes as you carefully lift her out of her cot and snuggle her against your chest, soothing your hand down her quivering back as she hiccups into your sweater. “Shhh, it’s okay… you’re safe, Mommy’s got you…”

You rock her until she falls asleep again, fighting the entire time not to break out into sobs yourself, and when you finally place her back down into her crib and slip out of the nursery, you’re not at all surprised to see Chan still in your apartment, hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands.

Your apartment looks like a fucking crime scene. For the first time tonight you’re able to take everything in, all the blood dripped on the floor and smeared on the walls. All the muddy shoeprints and puddles of rainwater. The cabinets under the sink are still swung open, your first aid kit left forgotten on the kitchen floor.

You don’t have the energy to be mad at Chan anymore, your gaze lingering back on his weathered frame. You don’t have the energy to feel anything except empty. Depleted.

Wordlessly, you pick the first aid kit off the floor and make your way to Chan. He lets you cup his face without a fight, raise it out of his hands so you can dab an alcohol pad against the cut on his forehead. The sting makes him wince, but he doesn’t try to move away, looking up at you with eyes full of stars as you wipe away the dried blood from his skin. The dim lamp by the couch cast dark shadows across his handsome face, bathing him in a sensual, intimate light. You can’t bear to look back into them, the way they make your heart twist painfully in your chest, deep chocolate brown so effortless to get lost in. You busy yourself with bandaging up his forehead, and then his lip, and then his busted hand.

“Why are you doing this?” Chan whispers softly, the question making you stop in your tracks.

“I… don’t know.” You admit after a long pause. You do it without thinking, just like when he first stepped inside. Your natural response after seeing him hurt so many times before, playing nurse while he boasts to you about his triumphs, fills you with empty promises and proclamations of love. Your hero, swearing to you that you were his savior. Everything in you still aches to soothe him, heal his wounds and numb his pain, be his guardian angel like you used to be before his suffering became your own.

If he were addicted to the fighting, you would be addicted to what came after.

Your fingers pause in the middle of wrapping up his knuckles in gauze, quivering slightly as you let out an agonized sigh. “It’s not about whenever or not I love you, Chris. I have to put our daughter first. I have to make sure she’ll be safe and happy.”

You barely manage to finish bandaging up his hand, your knotting work far from the best. The minute you let go of him he pulls you right back, his big hands enveloping yours and squeezing tightly. “She will be, I promise. I’ll keep both of you safe, never let anything happen to either of you— I’ve got the means to keep you protected no matter what happens. You’re my everything… I’m so lost without you.”

His bandaged hand slides up to caress your cheek, his skin so bitterly cold. “Channie…” you warn, but you’re the weakest you’ve been all night. Chan can see it in your eyes.

“I was so fucking worried about you.” He continues softly, hushed like he was kneeling for confession. “I’ve missed you so bad… please, baby, don’t ever leave me like that again.”

Breaking feels a lot like letting go. Dropping all your fear and worry, any semblance of rational thought to finally allow yourself to nuzzle into Chan’s touch. He knows you too well, always knows exactly what to say to get your walls to come crashing down, what to do to when the smoke clears and you’re left defenseless amongst the rubble. Because, underneath all the piling resentment and hatred, the divorce, the distance you’ve been fighting for, you truly do still love him. You fear you always will.

Your eyes flutter closed as you bask in Chan’s affection, preen under his loving gaze and delight in the way he cradles you as if you were made of glass— you feel so precious yet so fragile, yielding to a man strong enough to shatter you completely, leave you nothing but a pile of dust and broken shards.

You’ve never felt safer.

“God, you’re so pretty…” he whispers awestruck, under his breath almost as if he were talking to himself. His thumb maps out the curve of your cheekbone, down, down, down to your pliant, pouting lips. The pad of it is hardened and calloused, rough against the soft skin of your bottom lip, but the sensation leaves you aching for more; you open your eyes to bat your eyelashes up at him, open your mouth to invite his thumb to creep inside.

The flash of carnal, animalistic lust in his eyes sends a wave of liquid fire coursing through you, down your spine to where it pools heavy in your belly. You purse your lips around his thumb and suck it in deeper, hollowing your cheeks as if you were sucking on something else entirely. Chan groans deep in his chest, his other fingers curling tight around your chin to pull you towards him. “Fuck. Come here, babygirl.”

You surge forward to capture your lips with his, and he meets you halfway; the pillow softness of his lips are hauntingly familiar against yours, yet somehow they feel completely brand new, like uncharted territory in a land you’ve ventured in countless times before. Any chastity is quickly tossed to the side with the heady sensation of his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, the warmth in your belly heightening into a wild swirl. You’re shocked by your own eager response, opening up immediately to let him ravish your mouth with a forceful domination that left you weak. He pulls you effortlessly onto his lap, your legs spreading to wrap instinctively around his waist, the closeness of your bodies maddening. Your blood pounded in your ears, leapt from your heart with a scalding fire, and made your body tremble, senses reeling as if you had short-circuited. Clashing emotions whirled around in your head, but your consciousness had left you the minute your lips made contact with his. All you can think of is how passionately Chan devoured you, the force of his kiss almost punishing, like a soldering heat that bonds metal. Yet it felt like anything but a punishment, doused in a honeyed sweetness that called to you like a drug, dragged you under the waves of dreamy tenderness, filled your head with thoughts of how good it would feel to let yourself drown.

You kiss him back with reckless abandon, hands reaching out to hold him, anywhere you possibly can— the wispy hairs at the base of his neck, the worn leather of his jacket, the grooves of his defined muscles through the fabric of his wet tee shirt. He crushes you against him, swallows you within his big beefy arms, one of his hands running down the small of your waist to grab a fat handful of your ass. You gasp against his mouth as his touches grow bolder, massaging the globes of your ass and guiding your hips to glide against his. The outline of his half-hard cock pokes at you through his jeans, growing thicker and stiffer with every passing second, pressed perfectly against the curve of your cunt. Your sleep pants are thin enough to where it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all, and when Chan cants his hips up his bulge grinds right against your clit. He does it again, and again, until you’re squirming helplessly against him, panting and moaning into his mouth.

“Chan, we can’t do this…” you manage to stutter out between kisses, the reality of the situation finally beginning to dawn on you again. But Chan ignores your plea, his lips leaving yours to sear a path down your neck and shoulders. He nibbles at your skin, kisses the pulsing hollow at the base of your throat, distracting you enough to slide one of his hands to cup your pussy.

“Yes we can.” He croons against your heated skin, hot tongue escaping between his lips to lick a tantalizing stripe up your neck. “I can feel how wet this pussy is, baby, how needy you are for me. Just let me in, princess, let me take care of you…”

He slides his fingers down your covered slit, your clothes sticking to your mound with your sopping juices, drenched to the point you can’t possibly hide your arousal. Your engorged clit aches, empty hole clenches around nothing… you whimper pathetically in defeat.

“Come on, say it. Say you want me.”

You really were nothing but an addict. Addicted to the power he holds over you.

“fuck, oh f-fuck— right there!”

Chan knows every single spot inside of you to make you scream, his thick cock hitting each one expertly with each of his powerful thrusts. The angle he has you bent in makes you see stars, his big rough hands clasped tight around your ankles to push your legs up against your chest and spread you wide open— he’s never fucked you this roughly before, his feet planted on the mattress to pound into you animalistically, but even then there’s still a bitter tenderness to the way he holds you up against him, gazes down at you in rapture as you fall apart beneath him.

“Yeah? Right there?” He coos, deep Aussie accent dripping with poisoned honey, “Feel me all the way in your tummy, baby? Feel this fat cock splitting you open? Fuck, you’re so tight, sucking me in. Greedy little cunt.” He lets go of one of your ankles to press down on the bulge he’s made in your belly, your trembling leg curling over his shoulder in ecstasy as the pressure in your core increases.

“So deep!” you hiccup stupidly in reply, fisting the sheets as your world explodes and shatters behind your eyelids. His bulbous cockhead slams repeatedly against your cervix in a punishing rhythm, so deep inside of you that you mindlessly fear that he’s pushed through and was fucking your womb. “Deep! S-so fucking big!”

Chan growls like a beast, his efforts doubling in speed and intensity, “Missed this cock, didn’t you, princess? God, listen to how fucking wet you are. Hear how badly this cunt needed me?”

He emphasizes his claim with a particularly harsh thrust, your pussy squelching obscenely around him and filling your dark, quiet bedroom with loud, filthy noises. “C’mon, tell Daddy how badly you missed this.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you worry that you’ll wake up the baby again. Chan fucks you loudly and shamelessly, like he doesn’t care that your daughter sleeps in the room just across the hall... the thought reignites your anger. You want to accost him, defy him, tell him that you didn’t miss him at all. That you weren’t desperate for him to make you cum and finally leave you satisfied after months of frustration. That you didn’t think of him at night when you played with yourself, or when you took another man to your bed, because as much as it agonizes you no other man has ever made you feel as good as he does. But you couldn’t string the words together, could hardly even think with how pleasure coursed through every fiber of your being. Besides, Chan knows when you’re lying.

“M-missed your c-cock,” you admit between whimpers and moans, your face burning with shame and arousal. “M-missed Daddy’s cock so fucking much, needed it so bad— oh, fuck, Chris, Daddy, please—!”

Chan snatches your hips and tugs you roughly towards him, lifting your bottom half up off the bed to fuck into you impossibly deeper. Your mouth falls open in a gasp of sweet agony, arching your back and tossing your head against the pillows. The show of sheer strength gets you impossibly wetter, your juices coating his heavy balls as they clap wetly against your ass. “Good pussy.” He grunts, his fingers digging bruising indents into the flesh of your waist. “Love this pretty little pussy— gonna fuck it ‘til it’s molded to my cock. Gonna ruin you for anyone except for me. This cunt belongs to me, doesn’t it, baby? God, look at you… taking it like such a good girl.”

His words make your head spin, a searing need building in your core, molten lava beneath your skin heating your thighs and groin. It feels divine, better than you ever remember… but it’s not enough to send you over the edge, give you that release you crave so desperately. “Need more,” you keen, “More, Daddy, please!”

“Greedy girl.” Chan chuckles darkly, the sound going straight to your cunt. “Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give it to you.”

You can’t respond, fucked so stupid you don’t know what you’re begging for— Chan tsks like he’s disappointed, letting go of your hips with one hand to grab a rough fistful of your hair. He tugs your head up to look at him, dark eyes dripping with lust and delicious dominance; you struggle to keep your eyes open, your vision swimming and your eyelids drooping from the onslaught of pleasure Chan continues to pound into you. “Too dumb on cock to speak? C’mon, pretty girl, tell Daddy what you want him to do to you.”

He tugs on your hair again, pain erupting across your scalp. It blends with your pleasure to create a heady, dizzying cocktail of ecstasy. You cry out in delight, letting go of the bedsheets to scramble for something sturdier to hold on to, ground you— your hands find purchase on your own tits, bouncing with Chan’s thrusts, and you knead the plump flesh with a wanton sob, your fingers twisting and pinching at your nipples hard enough to make you shake.

“My clit!” you finally manage to whimper out, broken and pathetic. “My clit, my clit— touch me, touch my clit, please!”

He does as he promised, leaning back to spit messily on your clit before letting go of your hair to circle the bud with his thumb. Your head falls back limply onto the pillows, hazy eyes rolling back in your head as you sob and hiccup in uncontrollable pleasure.

“Gettin’ close, babygirl? I can feel it, pussy squeezing me so tight— I’m close too, fuck, gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you!” Chan’s thrusts grow sloppy, his chest heaving as he pants open-mouthed like a dog. “How about that, hm? Want me to put another baby inside of you? So everyone knows not to touch what’s mine? I’ll breed this pussy so fucking full you’ll be dripping my cum for days…”

His words should scare you, should break whatever spell he’s put you under and have you begging him to pull out. But you’ve slipped away from reality, floating mindlessly in an erotic fantasy you’ve convinced yourself is too good to be true. You don’t want to wake up, don’t want to think about what lies ahead of you once Chan leaves your bed once again. You babble and beg for his cum, for him to bring you to your own climax, scratching deep red marks into his chest. They look at home amongst all the bruises.

“Tell me you love me.” Chan grunts abruptly, the rhythm of his thrusts slowing down to barely moving, his cock dragging along your gummy walls deliciously buy far too slowly.

You blink up at him in shock and confusion. “H-huh?”

“Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum.” He repeats, his eyes boring into yours, a knowing look in his eyes like he can see into your soul. “I love you so much, and I’m gonna show it with all this cum I’m gonna pump into this sweet cunt… don’t you love me too? Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, what you need…”

You’re just on the precipice of orgasm, teetering on the edge but unable to push yourself over, and your poor heart feels so exposed and raw… you can’t help but relent to him, succumb to his desires like you always do.

“I love you! I-I love you, Channie, Daddy, love you s-so much— ah!!”

His hips pick up to a speed that seems nearly superhuman, rutting into you wildly like an animal in heat as he grunts and groans, pinches your clit hard between his thumb and forefinger to make you scream. It feels so good, too good, and big watery tears roll down your cheeks as your body begins to vibrate with your orgasm. You’ve never cried during sex before.

“Let go, my love.” Chan croons, slapping your clit lightly. “Let it all out…”

Your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of explosive hysteria— with a shriek you squirt everywhere, all over Chan’s hand, belly, thighs, creamy droplets flying with every nasty wet thrust. Your gummy walls spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper as if to ensure you milk him dry. “That’s it, babygirl, cum for daddy!” Chan howls, intent on talking you through it even as he creeps closer and closer to climax himself. “Fuck yes, such a good girl, making a mess for me— gonna cum now, too, gonna breed this pussy! Ready for it? Gonna take it all, right princess?”

“Yes! Yesyesyes, please, please! Give it to me, daddy!”

He shoots his load deep inside of you with an animalistic growl, hot and thick painting your walls creamy white. It feels never ending, fat cock twitching with every spurt of seed he dumps into your womb, filling you up so much that thick globs of it spills out around him and drips down his balls to mix with the puddle forming on the soaked bedsheets. His legs give out and he collapses against you, gasping for breath with his face buried in your chest; you wrap your weak, trembling arms around his neck, and the two of you dissolve into breathless giggles as you slowly grind against each other ride out your highs. When Chan finally pulls out you see a foamy white ring around the base of his softening cock, sticking in his pubes.

You can feel your spent cunt leak his seed, dripping down your ass— Chan stares at in in awe, his fingers sliding up your sensitive folds to collect it and push it back inside.

“So beautiful…” he whispers, grinning as he admires your creamy bred pussy. His fingers at your hole makes you whimper in overstimulation, and you try to close your legs and squirm away, making him laugh. His eyes crinkle in that adorable way you hate to love so much. “You’re so beautiful.”

You don’t have the heart to make him leave, not when he runs you a warm bath and cleans you up so nicely. Not when he strips the bed and changes the sheets for you so you can lay comfortably, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your hair. Not as he promises to you that he’ll change, that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in his arms, that white picket fences are just over the horizon. You feel weightless, floating, satisfied… and that makes you feel sick.

S𝒯RA𝒴 K𝒾DS 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼ @enigmaticaphrodite , @jellymochii , @dwaekkicidal , @11vr1 , @yunverie, @arcturus444, @love-ning

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#𝓴𝗶𝗽𝗼 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔! ๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ˑ༄#𝓁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝖻𝗈𝗒──chan ♡ ˎˊ˗#i’m still not over how good this was like #DEVOUREDDDD!!!!#hehe happy first fic on your new blog!! ♡♡#skz x reader #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan angst #chan x reader #chan smut #chan angst

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