#((should do a story about his nightlife)) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sl0t4matt · 8 months ago

Note

smut w marc guiu where some boy is trying to talk to the reader in a party and marc gets jealous and then reader and marc end up doing things in his car please🤭

m. guiu | jealous looks good on you

warnings: smut

marc annoyed the shit out of you today. he’s been such a bitch, fighting and complaining about any minor thing you did wrong. you know your boyfriend can be sassy at times, but today he’s been extra.

you’re supposed to be the girl in the relationship not him and he’s the one acting bitchier than you. today you got especially tired of it, so you called your friends and brought them to the club, bringing you to now, sitting on a chair beside the bar, waiting for your friends to come back from dancing.

you didn’t join them because your legs gave up on you a few minutes ago when you were dancing, like your life depended on it.

you decide to get on your phone, check a few messages, before they get back, so you get on instagram, immediately noticing that hector posted a story.

you click on it seeing a booth of the club you are exactly in. you keep watching the video scoffing at seeing marc in the corner of it, he’s not alone though. a girl is sat beside him, talking to him. a little too close for any girlfriends liking.

“what the fuck.” you mutter, huffing at him finding a new girl exactly after you fought. pathetic really. she’s not even close to your level.

“hi, i’m diego. i saw you dancing a few minutes ago, you looked stunning, could i buy you a drink?” an attractive man sits down beside you. he looks like he’s in his 19s or maybe 20s, with dark skin and dreadlocks.

if marc can talk to other women, what should stop you to? maybe you could even get him jealous and make him see how much he actually needs you. “yes i would love that, actually.” you smile at him.

“perfect, what would you like?” he grins back, his pearly white teeth peeking through his lips. “i’ll take a negroni, thank you.”

“a negroni for the pretty woman beside me, please.” he winks at you. you innerly cringe at his words but don’t let it show. you get the drink in a heartbeat since it only had three ingredients. you smile at the bartender, taking the drink.

“so, are you new in barcelona?” he asks, leaning closer to you. “i moved here a few years ago, for uni.” you answer, sipping on your drink. “nice, what university do you go to? i go to esade.” your eyes widen. esade is one of of barcelonas elite, also super hard. “you study law? that’s like suicide.”

he laughs at your reference. “yeah, it’s a lot.” he nods, agreeing with you. “oh sorry. i go to the university of barcelona.” you answer his previous question.

“you’re good. did you come alone or with friends?” you look around trying to find your girlfriends, but failing immediately, the crowd in the dance floor being way too big to see them. the nightlife of barcelona really is something else.

“i came with my friends, i can’t find them right now, though. they’re probably dancing.” you answer, giving him a tight lipped smile.

you keep looking for them, when you suddenly meet eyes with a certain brown eyed boy, you call your boyfriend. his brows are furrowed and eyes piercing on the guy beside you. if looks could kill, diego would be five feet under for sure.

he gets up from the spot in between hector and the girl on the video and walks towards you. “oh fuck.” you mutter. diego glances at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, but marc is already in front of you. diego furrows when he sees him.

“hermano, can i help you?” diego asks him. “yeah, you can get the fuck out of my face.” marc spats, turning to look at him. “who the hell are you?!” diego gets up pushing marc’s chest slightly, you still sitting dumbfound beside the bar.

“i’m her boyfriend, you dumbass.” marc isn’t the one to act nice. you know he could throw a whole fit in here as well as seriously hurt the guy if he really wanted to, so you get up, getting in between both of the boys.

maybe project making marc jealous wasn’t such a good idea, since you know exactly how mad marc can get when jealous.

“marc lets go.” you pull on his hand, making him look down on you, with gritted teeth. he scoffs, taking your hand and dragging you to the exit of the club.

you see hector on the way out, him laughing at marc’s outburst.

he takes his car key out of his pocket, opening it. “get in.” he demands, after opening the door to the passenger seat. you scoff, getting into his car. he turns around to get into the driver seat, walking like a mad kid you think.

“did you want to make me jealous, is that it?” he huffs. you turn to look at him, rolling your eyes. “did you? with that blonde girl?” you ask him back. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“oh please. so you’re telling me you weren’t all up on that girl beside you, taking to her.” you scoff. he can’t deny the fact that she was eye fucking him the entire time.

“fucking hell, i wasn’t all up on her, she was the one flirting with me and i literally told her i have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes. “she was the one? because i’m sure, i literally saw that you were laughing with her on hectors story.” he scoffs.

“see! you always fucking do that shit. you don’t trust me.” you laugh, sarcastically. wow this just is really hilarious. “oh my god! i don’t trust you? you literally dragged me out of there because i was talking to a guy.” you yell at him, finding it rich coming from him.

his hand makes its way to his forehead, massaging it. “because if i didn’t, you would’ve ended up in that guys bed.” he reasons, shaking his head. “are you even hearing yourself? what the hell are you saying? bro just shut the fuck up, honestly.” you scoff, also shaking your head.

“fuck you.” he spats. “fuck you!” you yell back, turning to look at him, meeting his eyes. his eyes move from yours down to your lips, licking his own. “i hate you.” you mumble, as the both of you lean into each other, meeting your lips in a heated and aggressive kiss, taking out your madness on each other in a kiss.

his hand moves to his thigh, squeezing it. his other grips your neck, clutching around it and pulling you even closer if thats possible. your hand slips into his pants, finding his already hard cock. “fuck.” he moans into your mouth.

you start to jerking him off, collecting his pre cum with your thumb, making him tense at the sudden touch.

he pulls his seat back, mentioning you to straddle him. so you do so, each of your legs in between his lap as you feel his already throbbing cock in between your legs, begging for release. he winces, as you grind on him, while you lock lips again, feeling his stubble slightly tickle your chin.

his hand glides in between your legs, pulling your panties down. you’re already soaking and you’re sure he’s very aware of it, your juices already rolling down onto his pants.

you attempt to open his belt with a rush but fail miserably. he helps you, opening up his belt, following with sliding his pants down his hips. he hurries with taking off your top, his hands instantly gripping your tits.

you hoover over his tip, biting your lip when you feel his tip slightly touching your soaked hole. he rocks his hips upward, making his dick stretch out your cunt. you snake your hand around his neck, clutching onto his sweaty hair.

you whine, when you feel him fully inside of you, collecting all of your juices. “you’re so tight, ma.” he groans, as he takes ahold of your waist, squeezing it.

your lips hoover over his as you roll your hips back onto his, feeling his dick pulsing around you, your breasts bouncing up and down. he groans at the stimulation, panting heavily.

you quicken your movements, thrusting into him more laboriously. “marc.” you breathlessly moan his name, arching your back at the feeling, feeling closer to the edge.

you tremble from on top of him, clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging deep into his skin, forming cat like scratches. “fuck. gonna come.“ he groans before filling you up with his warm sperm.

your legs shake around his cock before you come onto him, drenching his thighs in your come.

your head leans onto his shoulder, tiredly. a smirk forms onto his smug face, as he sees your juices all over him. “not a word.” you speak, knowing he was going to make a smart ass mark.

“for a person you hate, i can make you come quite alright, don’t you think?” he winks. “oh my god.” you shake your head.

“what did you say the last time? jealous looks good on me?” he chuckles. you hit his chest before getting back into the passenger seat. it does look good on him. you can’t lie.

#fc barcelona #barca #pablo gavi #hector fort #joao felix #marc guiu #fermin lopez

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motherismotheringggg · 16 days ago

Text

scripted desire

part one

summary: based on this request linked here, essentially cooper gets to work his celebrity crush and has to navigate doing a sex scene together

type: cooper koch x fem! reader (i know cooper is gay, this is fiction pooks)

tags/warnings: masturbation (m!), strip tease, mentions is missionary, mentions of f! riding, back and forth between reader POV and Cooper so the reader’s POV is orange other than that i feel like it’s mainly world building

author’s note: im quite literally so sorry this took SO fucking long 😭 i’ve been so busy with work and other stuff!!! you know you’re too busy when you don’t even have time to shitpost like ???? anyway idk why i felt like this should be a two parter, maybe it’s bc im so into writing about the show and the story. anyway, i hope yall like it <3

word count: 5318

tag list: @purple-1995 , @blackynsupremacy , @hoffmansgirl , @sharonusworld , @violetidk

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“The script is incredible honestly, like it just feels electric,” Cooper held his cell phone between his shoulder and ear while slicing the avocado for his toast.

He gushed on and on to his brother Payton about his upcoming role in the new HBO series, set to air late next year - Hard Bodies.

Hard Bodies is a 1980s series set in Miami where small-town gym owner Lionel Vega joins forces with fiery nightclub owner Jade Monroe to dominate the city’s nightlife and fitness scene. As shady back-alley deals and drug-fueled ambitions drive their rise; passion and betrayal threaten to consume them in a whirlwind of love and crime.

“This is gonna be sick,” Payton met his brother’s energy and enthusiasm, “I’m so fucking proud of you Coop! First Monsters and now this - you’re on a fucking roll!”

Cooper’s face flushed with a light pink hue, and he couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Thanks, man. I mean, it’s HBO! This could be huge for me.”

“And you’re finally working with your dream girl,” Payton added, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Cooper froze for a beat, the knife pausing mid-slice through the avocado. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning nonchalance.

“What do I mean?” Payton scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know who your co-star is, Y/N! Honestly, this is how some of the most romantic couples met so this could be a love story for the ages -”

“Okay, relax,” Cooper cut his brother off, his tone dismissive but the pink on his cheeks deepening to a noticeable red. He resumed his food prep, focusing intently on his task. “It’s not like that. She’s a professional, I’m a professional—”

“Oh, please,” Payton interrupted with a laugh. “You’ve been obsessed with her since that indie movie where she played the violinist. What was it called again?”

“Strings Attached,” Cooper answered automatically, then winced when Payton barked out a laugh.

“Exactly! You’re so not over this.”

“Whatever,” Cooper muttered, spreading the avocado on his toast and avoiding the fact that he’d practically memorized her entire filmography. “The script is electric, and she’s perfect for Jade. It’s literally not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Payton echoed mockingly. “Right. So you’re gonna be completely normal huh? You’re definitely not gonna do that nervous big smile thing when you guys meet at the Ryan’s tomorrow?”

Cooper rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the flutter of nerves in his stomach. The truth was, he had already spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining their first interaction. Would she even remember his name after introductions, or would he just be the guy playing Lionel?

“I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though his voice wavered slightly.

“You’re gonna melt,” Payton teased. “Mark my words. And if you embarrass yourself, I fully expect you to call me immediately.”

Cooper sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I thought I called you for support?”

“And I do support you - I’m proud of you, I love you and I know you’re gonna bomb meeting her -- bye Coop Coop!!”

As Cooper hung up the call, he stared at his toast, appetite momentarily forgotten. Payton wasn’t wrong. This role was a dream come true—but working with her? That was something else entirely.

He shook his head, trying to shove the thought away. He had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he let a schoolboy crush mess it up. Still, a small, secret smile crept onto his face. Maybe this would be the best year of his life.

----

Pulling into Ryan Murphy’s driveway felt like stepping into a cinematic dream. The sleekly paved path was framed by pristine banks of white pebbles and perfectly manicured shrubbery, each plant standing at attention like they’d been given stage directions. The house itself was a modern masterpiece—clean, sharp lines, vast panes of glass that reflected the sun just right, and an energy that screamed money, power, and taste.

But none of it threw you. If anything, it fueled you. This was exactly the kind of space you were meant to be in.

This wasn’t your first brush with industry bigwigs. You’d navigated enough industry parties and after-hours premieres to recognize the set dressing of wealth. And you’d met Ryan Murphy a handful of times already—enough to know he had a presence that filled a room, even when he wasn’t trying. This time, though, it was different. You weren’t just mingling at a party. You were here because *you belonged here.*

Your chest buzzed with excitement, but your walk to the front door was smooth, each step deliberate. Before you could even knock, the door swung open.

“You must be Y/N,” said a sharply dressed assistant with a smile that looked well-practiced but still warm. “Welcome! Ryan and Cooper are out back. Follow me.”

“Lead the way,” you said, flashing a quick grin. You weren’t about to play small—not here, not now.

The inside of the house was even more stunning than the outside. High ceilings that made every space feel twice as big, sleek furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum, and pops of color so perfectly placed it had to be planned. It was the kind of house people spend their whole lives dreaming of living in, but today it was just another set piece to you.

You followed the assistant, walking with an easy confidence, even letting out a quiet, impressed hum as you glanced up at a massive abstract painting hanging in the hallway.

“Nice art,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but the assistant chuckled.

“Custom piece,” she said, glancing back. “Ryan commissioned it.”

“Of course he did,” you replied, lips quirking into a grin.

The assistant led you through the house, out to the backyard where the sun hit just right, Ryan Murphy stood by the edge of a sleek infinity pool, mid-conversation with another figure, but his eyes flicked over to you as soon as you stepped out. A grin spread across his face like he’d been expecting you all day.

“Y/N!” Ryan beamed, arms outstretched. His energy was just as big and commanding as you remembered, but it still felt personal. “I’m so glad you’re here. Welcome, welcome!”

You stepped in without hesitation, letting him pull you into a light hug. “Thank you for having me,” you said, your voice steady and full of gratitude. “I’m so excited to be here. I’ve been looking forward to this since I got the call.”

“Believe me, we have too,” Ryan said, holding your shoulders for a moment like he was sizing you up, but in a way that felt more approval than judgment. “You’re exactly what we need for Jade. You’ve got the fire.”

You grinned, letting that bit of praise soak in.

Ryan’s eyes shifted to the person standing next to him.

“Have you met Cooper Koch yet?” he asked, motioning to the man just to his right.

Cooper stood tall, his hands in his pockets, gaze flicking between you and Ryan. If the word leading man had a picture next to it, it would be him. Sharp jaw, tousled hair that looked just the right amount of undone, and a frame that made him look like he’d just stepped off the set of a 90s Calvin Klein campaign. But there was something else—a softness to him, a hesitancy that you immediately clocked.

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward to offer his hand, his eyes darting briefly to Ryan like he was double-checking he was doing this right. “Nice to meet you.”

You took his hand, but instead of a simple shake, you tugged him into a quick hug. Not too tight, not too long—just enough to make him feel welcome. He froze for half a second, clearly not expecting it, but he relaxed the moment you patted his back.

“Nice to meet you too, Cooper,” you said, pulling back just in time to catch the faint blush creeping up his neck. Cute.

“Uh—” He cleared his throat, his eyes briefly meeting yours before darting down to his sneakers. “Yeah, I’m—uh, I’m really excited to work with you. I’ve seen some of your films and, uh, they’re amazing.”

“I really appreciate that,” you said, tilting your head slightly, watching the way he shifted on his feet like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Charming in a puppyish way. “I’ve seen some of yours too. You’ve got some serious range. I’m so excited to see what we cook up together.”

Cooper’s lips quirked up into a smile, but he still rubbed the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure how to hold a compliment. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too.”

Ryan clapped his hands once, pulling both of your attention back to him. “Alright, alright. Enough love-fest. Let’s sit, get into it, and talk about the show.”

He led you both to a sleek, shaded seating area under a pergola. A pitcher of lemon water and crystal glasses were already waiting, because of course they were. Ryan sat with the air of a king at court, gesturing for you and Cooper to take seats across from him.

“Okay, let’s get into it,” Ryan said, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned forward. “I’m going to walk you through what I’m envisioning for Jade and Lionel. These two are the heart of Hard Bodies, and you’re going to love them. Trust me.”

You leaned forward, eager, every part of you locked in on Ryan’s words.

“Jade is power,” Ryan said, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s tough, she’s smart, and she’s relentless. Lionel—” Ryan glanced at Cooper, who sat a little straighter under his gaze. “—Lionel is her foil. He’s calm, thoughtful, but he’s got a lot going on beneath the surface. He’s a slow burn, but when he cracks, he cracks. And that dynamic between the two of them?” Ryan’s eyes flicked between you and Cooper, his gaze as sharp as a spotlight. “That’s where the magic happens.”

You nodded, the fire in your chest burning hotter with every word. You glanced at Cooper, catching the way he was looking down at his hands, nodding to himself like he was already running scenes in his head. He’s got that quiet focus, you thought. This’ll be fun.

“Got it,” you said, locking eyes with Ryan. “I’m ready.”

Ryan grinned. “I like that. You’re gonna be delicious as Jade.”

You smirked, eyes cutting to Cooper as you leaned back in your seat. He smiled, small but steady. His shoulders had relaxed a little, and this time, when your eyes met, he didn’t look away.

Yeah, you thought, this’ll be fun.

----

Since the meeting at Ryan’s house, you and Cooper really found your rhythm. By week three of filming the nerves that had hummed beneath your skin on day one had quieted, replaced with something steadier — confidence, excitement, and maybe a little something extra you hadn’t anticipated.

That extra was Cooper.

You hadn’t expected to click with him as easily as you did. He’d been quiet at first, reserved in a way that read more thoughtful than standoffish. But it didn’t take long for him to open up. It was in the small moments — how he’d quietly offer you his jacket between takes if it got too cold on set, how he’d wait for you at the catering line even if you were behind, or how he'd listen — really listen — whenever you shared an idea about your characters.

It made you feel seen. Really seen.

What you appreciated most, though, was his presence. On days when your nerves got the best of you — when you fumbled a line or felt the pressure of carrying a scene — Cooper was a grounding force. He had this way of calming you with just a look, like he could see right through your facade and was silently telling you, “You’re fine. You’re more than fine.”

On-screen, the two of you were electric. Every scene between Lionel and Jade crackled with energy — love, conflict, tenderness — all of it felt so real that sometimes you’d walk off set still feeling the aftershocks. Off-screen, it was a different kind of magic. The two of you joked constantly, falling into an easy back-and-forth that felt like you’d been friends for years. It wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t something you’d experienced with every co-star. With Cooper, it was effortless.

You loved that.

For you, it felt like a friendship blooming in real time — a friendship that made long days on set feel lighter, and easier. But for Cooper, it was something else entirely.

Where you saw camaraderie, he saw *everything.*

Every time you looked him in the eyes to deliver a line, his chest would tighten just a little more. He swore you looked at him differently when you were in character, like Jade saw all of Lionel, even the parts he didn’t show anyone else. It was devastating in a good way.

Then there was the physical contact. A simple touch, nothing out of the ordinary for actors playing love interests, but every time it happened, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of you. During one scene, you’d cupped his face with both hands, a quiet moment of reconciliation for your characters. The scene called for intimacy, but the way your thumbs had softly brushed against his cheekbones — that wasn’t in the script. And it wrecked him.

His heart swelled, chest tight with an ache he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that you were stunning — though, God, you were stunning.

You were sharp and quick-witted, always ready with a comeback. You were thoughtful, checking in on the crew like you’d known them for years. You carried yourself with an effortless kind of grace — not in a “perfect” way, but in a real way, like you knew who you were and didn’t feel the need to prove it.

And Cooper? Cooper was in trouble.

Every scene, every shared glance, every brush of your hands had him falling further. He’d never admit it out loud — not yet, at least. But when you laughed at something he said during a break, your head tilting back, eyes crinkled in a way that made him forget every single one of his lines, he knew he was already gone.

----

It was Saturday night, and filming was running late. You were down to the final seconds of a solo scene where Jade, in full command of her space, moved with precision, power, and grace. The dim glow of neon lights splashed blues and purples across the glossy floor, shadows playing tricks on every surface. Music thumped low in the background — a sultry, hypnotic beat that seemed to sync perfectly with every roll of your hips and grip of your hands on the pole.

This scene had loomed over you since the table read. The words “Jade performs a solo pole routine” stared back at you from the page like a challenge. You’d never done anything like it before, and you knew how easily a scene like this could be reduced to spectacle rather than storytelling. But you were determined to get it right.

Weeks of training had led to this moment. The production hired pole-dancing experts to work with you one-on-one. At first, you’d struggled to even lift yourself off the ground, your muscles burning in protest. But after enough bruises, missteps, and “let’s try that again” moments, you finally felt it — that shift from trying to doing.

And now, you were doing it.

Take one was rough. A missed beat here, a loss of balance there. Ryan called "cut" before you'd made it halfway through. But take two? Take two, you were untouchable.

Your breathing was steady, eyes locked with the camera lens as if it were Jade’s greatest rival. Every movement was deliberate — slow drags of your hand down the pole, a spin that left your hair floating behind you, and a perfectly timed back arch that made you look weightless. You didn’t just look like you knew what you were doing. You looked like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Own the room. That’s what the pole instructors had told you. And you did. God, you did.

On the sidelines, Cooper sat in his labeled actor’s chair by the monitors completely consumed by you and your scene. At first, he was watching for the sake of it — just a castmate supporting you like you always supported him. But somewhere between your first spin and the moment you gripped the pole, leaned back, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, his chest tightened.

His eyes tracked your every step, every subtle shift of your weight, completely captivated. His lips parted unconsciously, breath caught in his chest as you delivered the moment you’d been directed to — a sultry, deliberate gaze straight into the camera. But it was when you reached the edge of the stage, your back to the lens, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a slow, precise motion, and hinging at the hips to elongate your legs, that he felt his restraint slipping. Heat pooled low in his stomach, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't will away the growing tension in his sweatpants.

He tried to convince himself it was just admiration for your craft — appreciation for the sheer dedication you poured into the role. And it was. You were brilliant, commanding every inch of the stage like it had always belonged to you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought creeping in the back of his mind.

He wished it was his character in that chair. The one lucky enough to be the focus of your gaze, the slow drag of your fingertips down his expansive chest, the weight of you settling on his lap like a claim had been staked. His hands gliding down your sides, firmly settling on your hips before gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze. He pulled back just long enough to deliver a sharp slap, only to seize another handful with equal intensity. The thought struck him hard and fast, leaving a dull ache in his chest that spread lower. Every roll of your hips had him gripping the edge of his chair, trying to keep his breathing steady. It wasn't just the choreography — it was you. Your presence filled the room, magnetic and impossible to look away from.

His jaw tensed as you leaned forward on the stage, your eyes flickering to the camera like it was a lover you had under your thumb. But Cooper didn’t see the camera. He saw himself, head tipped back, breath caught in his throat as you loomed over him. The image hit him so vividly he had to shift in his seat, hoping no one noticed the heat crawling up the back of his neck.

He knew it was unprofessional, he knew he should be focused on the craft, the art, the performance. But it wasn’t just the role anymore. It was you — the way you embodied every inch of Jade like a second skin, a perfect blend of power and seduction. He wanted to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of it. To be the one under your spell, just for a moment.

His fingers twitched on his thigh, pressing down hard as if to ground himself. It didn’t work. His mind was already gone, caught in the spiral of what-ifs and could-bes. What if you touched him like that — not as Jade, not as an act, but as yourself? What if you leaned in just a little closer, lips at his ear, fingers curled into his collar to pull him forward?

He shifted again, glancing around like the guilt might be written all over his face. No one was looking his way. But even if they had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. His gaze was locked on you, completely and utterly trapped.

Every slow turn of your body, every flash of your eyes, every deliberate move of your hips — it was torture, plain and simple. The kind of torture he’d willingly endure if it meant you’d look at him just once the way you did the camera.

God, he needed to get a grip.

“Cut! Beautiful, that’s a wrap on Y/N!” Ryan called, his voice jolting Cooper like a splash of cold water.

He blinked hard, shaking himself out of it. Around him, crew members applauded, grips already moving to adjust the set for the next shoot. But Cooper’s eyes didn’t leave you. You stepped away from the pole, beaming from ear to ear from the adoration of everyone. A production assistant met you as you were walking off-set with a parka coat and a bottle of water as you headed toward the monitors to look over the scene with Ryan.

You were approaching Cooper, still ecstatic, he wanted to stand to give you a hug but all the blood, currently still rushing to his throbbing self was preventing him from doing so.

“Holy shit,” you said, walking toward him with an excited grin still lingering on your face. “That was incredible.”

Cooper fumbled with his words, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. He could feel a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, and it wasn’t from the studio lights. For the love of God, Cooper, get it together, he scolded himself, swallowing hard. After a beat, he found his voice again.

“You were incredible, Y/N,” he said with more conviction, leaning forward a bit. “Like, truly amazing. I mean it.”

His sincerity made your heart swell with appreciation. Without a second thought, you leaned in to hug him. You knew he was still sitting down, but it didn’t matter. His praise hit differently—partly because it came from a castmate, but also because it came from Cooper. Someone whose work you genuinely admired.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pressed in close.

Cooper did that thing he always hated—where a hug catches him off guard, and he freezes like a deer in headlights. But this time, he was quick to recover. His arms circled your waist with more certainty, holding you close. Warmth spread through his chest, and for a moment, everything around him fell away. No cameras. No set. Just you.

He let himself sink into it, arms tightening a little more like he could hold on forever if he had the chance. His fingers brushed against the small of your back, and he felt you breathe, steadily and calmly. He took a slow inhale, and you smelled like cherries—sweet and fresh, as you'd just bitten into the fruit. Cherries. How was he supposed to forget that now?

His mind drifted. For one dangerous second, he wondered what it would feel like to press his face into the curve of your neck. To stay here a little longer. He was so caught up in you that he almost missed it—the sharp realization of just how close you were. His breath hitched. His entire body went taut like a wire pulled too tight.

His heart dropped as he realized the problem. Oh, no. No, no, no.

If you shifted even an inch— just an inch —you’d feel it. His body’s very inconvenient, very undeniable reaction to you.

Panic started to set in. He thought about pulling back, but how? Hug too long, and it’s weird. Pull away too fast, and it’s suspicious. His heart was beating so hard now he was sure you could hear it. His arms stiffened around your waist, a dead giveaway. She’s gonna notice. She’s definitely gonna notice.

His brain went into overdrive, mapping out a hundred ways to escape, none of them good. He couldn’t move without making it worse. His fingers twitched against your back as he tried to think of a solution. Don’t freak out. If you freak out, she’s definitely gonna know. Just breathe.

But before his spiral could hit rock bottom, a voice rang out from across the set.

“Alright, guys, let’s bring it in!” Ryan called, clapping his hands for attention. “We’re wrapping for the night but I wanna chat with everyone.”

You pulled away, completely unaware of the war going on in Cooper’s head. You smiled at him, bright and grateful. “Come on, partner,” you said, giving him a playful tug on his arm.

He blinked at you, still half-stuck in his haze of panic, but he followed your lead. His body was still tense, still buzzing from the aftershock of it all, but he managed to give you a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, partner,” he echoed, dragging himself out of his head. Get it together, man. Seriously.

Ryan gathered everyone around, his voice cutting through the low hum of crew chatter. “Alright, great work today, everyone. Things are moving along smoothly, and I appreciate all of you for that,” he said, his eyes scanning the group with a satisfied grin. “Tomorrow, we’re shooting the shop scenes in the morning, so check your call times. Also…” He glanced at his clipboard, tapping it with his pen. “Our intimacy coordinator, Anna Hansen, will be on set to work with Y/N and Cooper for the bedroom scene.”

You nodded enthusiastically, unbothered, already mentally preparing yourself. This was part of the job—no big deal. But Cooper’s nod was slower, stiffer. He was mirroring you, or at least trying to, but his heart had dropped straight into his stomach. Oh, right. The sex scene.

He hadn't forgotten about it—he couldn't forget—but hearing it announced like that made it feel more real. No longer a far-off, abstract idea on the call sheet. No, this was happening. Tomorrow. With you. Close to you. Closer than he’d ever been. Closer than he’d ever allowed himself to imagine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had imagined it—but not like this. Not with cameras, choreography, and a whole crew watching.

And now, that quiet yearning he’d always managed to keep on a leash had slipped free, leaving him raw and unsteady. He could fake it. He had to. It’s just acting. But no amount of rehearsal could have prepared him for the storm brewing in his chest.

----

Later that night, Cooper was sprawled on his bed, the script spread out in front of him like it was the key to his survival. His gaze was glued to the page, his fingers absently running over the edges as he read and reread every line. He was meticulous, trying to memorize every movement, every word, because he had to get it right. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. He had done nudity and sex scenes before, but this time felt different. This time, it was you.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but everything about you had him tangled in knots. The way you moved so effortlessly, the quiet confidence you exuded without even trying—it was magnetic. He had seen you on screen, but being in the same room as you, sharing the same space had only made his admiration for you grow deeper. And now, the thought of being so close to you in such an intimate scene… it had his pulse racing and his stomach churning.

His body felt conflicted—he wanted to be professional, to focus on the art, but the thought of the scene tomorrow, of the moment when his body would be so close to yours, was making it impossible to think straight. He needed to know what to expect, to have every detail mapped out, so he could control his reactions, avoid any embarrassment. If the script said "Jade straddles Lionel in a kiss," he'd know how to prepare for it, anticipate the movement, and adjust himself. If it said "Jade nibbles at Lionel’s ear," he'd be ready—not to react with a breathy moan, or worse, to let his body betray him in front of you.

He kept reading, his heart hammering in his chest as he came across a line he hadn't fully processed before: "In missionary, Jade’s breasts pressed against Lionel’s face." His breath caught in his throat. HOLY SHIT. He’d forgotten that detail, or maybe he had blocked it out. Now that it was right there on the page, staring him in the face, the weight of it hit him hard. His cheeks burned, his body suddenly stiff, as the reality of what was about to happen sank in. He leaned back against the headboard, a sigh of frustration escaping him. His mind raced. How could he focus on professionalism when all he could think about was being in that moment, in that scene, with you?

Cooper took a shaky breath, trying to will his thoughts back into control, but his mind wandered. He couldn't stop thinking about how you looked in today’s last scene —how stunning you were in that glittery lingerie, the way the heels elongated your legs, the way your hair cascaded around your shoulders in sexy curls.

The image of you in that moment haunted him, the desire for you building in his chest until it felt suffocating. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts aside, but it was no use. The more he tried to focus on the script, the more he imagined how it would feel to be that close to you.

His mind started to wander into dangerous territory—what if he could imagine it? If he pictured it, maybe he could control his body’s reaction during the actual shoot. His thoughts spiraled, his breathing shallow.

Before he realized what was happening, his hand had slipped below the covers, instinctively rubbing over the fabric of his boxers. His breath hitched as he thought of you—your voice, your scent, the way you looked in that scene earlier today, your glittery lingerie, the heels that elongated your legs, your big, sexy curls. It drove him wild.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up, and he felt his breath quicken. His hand, almost of its own accord, sliding into his boxers. As he imagined what it would be like to plant hot wet kisses on your neck while he’s on top of you, thrusting into you as you moaned his name.

His mind became consumed with the desire to feel you, feel your hips rock on top of him when you rode him, your breast with perky nipples bouncing up and down. His hand moved over himself, slowly at first, his breaths growing shallow as the image of you continued to play in his head. The thought of being with you overwhelmed him.

Cooper squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to pull himself together, but his body wasn’t listening. The pressure was building, and with a quiet, desperate moan mixed with the faint utterance of your name, he let go. His warm cum spilling from his tip and cascading down his hand.

He lingered in the aftermath, trying to catch his breath, but all he could think about was tomorrow. How the hell was he going to make it through that scene without his body betraying him? He sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow, his heart still racing. His mind was a whirlwind, full of you—how you moved, how you smelled, how you made him feel. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. A very long day.

Cooper sighed, getting up to wash his hands, brush his teeth, and try to settle himself for the night. Tomorrow was going to be difficult, to say the least.

#cooper koch #cooper koch x reader #cooper koch x y/n #cooper koch smut #cooper koch fanfic #cooper koch imagine #nasty remix

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sherewrytes · 2 months ago

Text

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 1

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Chapter Playlist:

Chapter 1: Rolling Stone

The blaring of the alarm cuts through the dim haze of the bar like a knife. I squint at the glowing screen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My shift is over, but it feels like the world is just beginning again. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fade into the background as I gather my things, the weight of another night spent pouring drinks and avoiding questions heavier than the bottles I’ve been slinging.

What the hell am I doing here?

I didn't need this job—my grandfather left a decent savings, more than enough to keep Choso and Yuuji set for college. But I can't touch it. Not yet. The thought of dipping into that fund makes my stomach twist. It's for them.

It’s always been for them.

So, I picked up this stupid job I hate, slinging drinks for people who don’t care about anything but getting wasted.

“Another night, another dollar,” I mutter to myself, a bitter grin creeping onto my face.

The familiar faces of patrons blur as I head to the door, but the fleeting laughter and boisterous conversations wrap around me, a reminder of the normalcy I’m missing. I should be out there, living it up, but instead, I’m trapped in this monotonous cycle of work and regret.

It’s been eighteen months since Jin died, and three weeks since I lost Grandpa. Shouldn’t I be over this by now?

“Just need to keep my head down,” I say aloud, shaking my head. “Keep the money coming. They depend on you, Sukuna.”

I step outside into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a splash of cold water. The streets are alive with the sounds of nightlife, but they feel like a distant echo, a life I no longer belong to. I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs, trying to drown out the nagging thoughts in my head.

Y/N…

She’s been my anchor since my world turned upside down. I think about the year we’ve spent together, how she’s become the one bright spot in my otherwise dreary existence. But there’s a heaviness between us that I can’t shake. I haven’t been fully present, and I know it.

“I’m trying, dammit,” I whisper, the words almost lost in the rustle of the wind. “But how do I explain this?”

What if I lose her too?

My thoughts spiral. I’ve built walls so high, convinced that keeping her at a distance will spare her from the wreckage I’ve become. But every time I see her smile, it’s like a reminder of everything I’m not—of the light I can’t give her because I’m too busy drowning in my own sorrow.

You’ve done enough of this pity party, Sukuna. Just let her in. She wants to help. You can’t keep pushing her away.

But it’s easier said than done. Every time I think about opening up, about letting her see the raw mess I am, a voice in the back of my head reminds me of the risk. “What if she can’t handle it?”

What if she leaves?

With a heavy heart, I crush the cigarette butt under my boot and head toward my apartment. I can’t let her see how much I’m struggling. I won’t burden her with my pain. But the truth is, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of pretending everything is okay when it’s not. I just want to talk to her, to feel that warmth radiating from her, even if it’s just for a moment.

As I approach my front door, I can see the lights flickering inside. Yuuji and Choso are likely glued to some video game, oblivious to the world outside. I shove the door open, the familiar creak echoing in the silence.

“Hey, I’m back,” I call out, forcing a casualness into my voice I don’t feel.

“Finally! We thought you fell in,” Yuuji replies, his voice full of that youthful energy that’s both infectious and exhausting.

“Yeah, as if. Just needed to pay the bills,” I respond, but my heart isn’t in it. I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like it’s the last drop of sanity I’ll ever have.

I should call her. Just see how she’s doing. She’s been so patient with me, even when I’ve been a complete jerk.

I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up with her contact name. My finger hovers over the call button, hesitation creeping in.

What if she’s busy? What if she thinks I’m pathetic for calling her now?

“Just do it,” I whisper to myself, the words barely escaping my lips. “You can’t keep hiding.”

With a deep breath, I press the button, and the phone rings. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, hoping she picks up, praying she won’t judge me for the mess I’ve made of everything.

“C’mon, Y/N. Pick up.”

After a few rings, her voice breaks through, warm and inviting. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the sound of her voice.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.

“Yeah, just finished work. Thought I’d check in on you,” I reply, keeping it casual, though the truth feels heavier than I can articulate.

“Just hanging out. You sound tired,” she notes, and I can almost picture the way she frowns when she’s worried.

Always so damn perceptive.

“Yeah, long night,” I admit. “How about you? You doing okay?”

“Better now that you called,” she replies, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

I need this. I need her.

“Maybe I’ll come over. I could use some company,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my heart races at the thought.

“I’d like that. Just… come over when you can,” she responds, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” I say, ending the call.

As I toss my phone onto the couch and lean back, I realize how much I’ve needed this connection. For all my reckless decisions and the way I’ve pushed her away, there’s something about her presence that makes the world feel less heavy.

Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can let her in.

I head to the bathroom to shower then to my room to change, scrolling through my phone I scrolled through spotify and played P5hng Me A*wy/Mike Shinoda and Linkin Park. I pulled out an old band tee from Bring me to the horizon and some ripped jeans. In the back of my draw I see some Xanax in a baggie. I pulled it out and popped one then a half I had from sometime before.

I should really quit this at some point…..but not tonight.

As I step out from my room into the living room, feeling a renewed sense of clarity, the front door creaks open. Choso strolls in, his expression a mixture of nonchalance and mischief that immediately puts me on high alert.

“Hey, where have you been?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but I can’t mask the irritation creeping in. I left him home with Yuuji, expecting a quiet night, and instead, I get this.

Choso shrugs, the dim light from the hallway casting shadows across his face. That’s when I catch a glimpse of something on his arm—ink, the kind that shouldn’t belong to someone barely eighteen.

For fuck’s sake.

I sigh, the tension in my chest tightening as I stride over to him, my heart pounding with frustration and concern. “What is this?” I snatch his arm, pulling it closer to examine the tattoo. It’s a crude design, something that looks like it was done in a rush, the lines jagged and uneven.

“Where have you been?” I demand, my voice low and sharp. “I left you home with Yuuji. Did you really think sneaking out was a good idea?”

Choso tries to pull his arm back, but I hold firm, scanning his face for any sign of remorse. Instead, I find a mix of defiance and pride that only stokes my anger further.

“Dude, it’s just a tattoo,” he says, a hint of rebellion in his tone. “I wanted to do something cool, you know?”

“Cool? You think getting a tattoo looking like you did it in a back alley is cool?” I hiss, my frustration boiling over. “You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or worse! What the hell were you thinking?”

He rolls his eyes, his teenage bravado coming out in full force. “It’s not a big deal, Sukuna. Everyone gets tattoos. I just wanted to be like you. You’re the one with all the ink.”

I let go of his arm, realizing the weight of my own hypocrisy. But I can’t back down now. “You think I’m some role model? I’ve made plenty of mistakes. This isn’t about me; it’s about you making smart choices! You’re not ready for this—”

“What, you mean you think I can’t handle it?” Choso snaps back, his youthful anger flaring. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can do what I want!”

“Yeah, well, you’re still living under my roof, and I’m still responsible for you,” I remind him, my voice strained but firm. “So until you can pay your own bills, I expect you to follow some rules. This isn’t a game, Choso. Tattoos can have consequences you’re not thinking about.”

Choso crosses his arms, his defiance cooling slightly as he looks away. I soften my tone, fighting the urge to explode. “I just… I don’t want you to end up regretting something like this. It’s not as easy to remove as you think. And if Yuuji knew you left the house, he’d freak.”

Choso’s eyes flicker with guilt for just a moment, but he quickly masks it. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to try something different. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Not a big deal?

I lean against the wall, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Look, just promise me you’ll think about your choices next time, alright? You’re not just a kid anymore, but you still need to act like one sometimes.”

“Fine. I promise,” he mutters, though I can see the annoyance simmering beneath the surface.

“Good. Now go shower and study and cover that thing up. You don’t need to show that thing off to everyone.” I start to walk back to the couch, but Choso grabs my arm, stopping me.

“Wait.” He looks me in the eye, something earnest in his gaze. “What if you’re not here? What if you get tired of taking care of us and just…leave?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged. I open my mouth to reassure him, but the truth is, I’m terrified of what he just said.

What if I do?

“Listen, Choso,” I start, searching for the right words. “I’m not going anywhere. I lost too much already. You and Yuuji are all I have left.”

“Then stop acting like it doesn’t matter,” he shoots back, and I can’t help but feel the sting of his words.

I swallow hard, staring at him, wishing I had the right answers. “I’m trying, okay? Just… let me figure this out.”

He nods, but I can see he’s not fully convinced. “Alright. Just don’t go disappearing on us, okay?”

With that, he heads off toward the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

I can’t disappear. I won’t. But what if I keep failing?

With a heavy heart, I plop back down on the couch, staring at my phone. I wonder if I should call Y/N again. Maybe she’d have something to say that would make all of this feel a little less overwhelming.

As I sit there, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for Choso, for Yuuji, and for Y/N. I need to find a way to hold it all together.

Somehow. I have to.

I plop down on the couch, the weight of the evening still heavy on my shoulders. The faint smell of cigarettes and whiskey clings in the air.

Jesus, it stinks in here

Just as he begins to find a moment of peace, Yuuji plops down next to him, grinning as he passes over his lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

“Here,” Yuuji says, his voice light, almost playful.

“Stay outta my shit, man,” I grumbles, though I can’t help but feel a hint of amusement at Yuuji’s carefree demeanor.

Yuuji chuckles, unfazed. “Where’s Y/N? I didn’t see her at Grandpa’s funeral.”

The question hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, I feel the ground shift beneath me. I had meant to tell Y/N about grandfather's passing—she had been there for me through so much—but the weight of it all had left me feeling paralyzed.

It wasn’t important that she was there…

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the guilt settle like a stone in my chest. “It wasn’t important that she was there,” I muttered, trying to brush it off.

“But isn’t she important to you?” Yuuji presses, his tone shifting to something more serious.

I fell silent, the question echoing in my mind.

Is she?

I reach for a cigarette, pulling it out with slightly trembling hands before lighting it. The flame flickers in the dim light, illuminating my features for a moment as I inhale deeply.

“Dude,” Choso pipes up from the hallway, his voice laced with annoyance. “You said no smoking in the house.”

I rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Cut me some slack,” I snapped, though I can’t ignore the tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me that I should be setting a better example.

The deep feeling that I’m forgetting something tugs at me, like a whisper just beyond my mental grasp. But then again, if I forgot it, it probably wasn’t important. Right?

Yuuji is staring at me, a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he leans back against the couch, looking comfortable in the silence that stretches between them.

“Things have been rough, huh?” Yuuji finally says, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I replied, flicking ash into a nearby tray. “You could say that.”

Choso saunters back into the living room, arms crossed, eyeing Sukuna. “You really should talk to Y/N, you know? She cares about you, and it’s clear you’re going through something.”

I glared at him, irritation flaring. “I don’t need you two playing therapist. I’m handling my shit.”

Choso raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Handling it how? By ignoring everything? By pushing everyone away? Because that’s not working.”

The truth stings, and I shifts in my seat, the tension coiling tighter. “I’m not pushing anyone away,” I shoot back, though I know it sounds hollow.

Yuuji breaks the tension with a laugh. “Yeah, you are. You could at least let her in a little. She might surprise you.”

The idea sits heavy on my chest.

Could Y/N really surprise him? Could she handle what he’s been dealing with?

What if she can’t?

I take another drag, the nicotine coursing through me like a desperate lifeline. “Whatever, man. Just drop it.”

Choso opens his mouth to argue, but Yuuji nudges him with a chuckle, and they both fall into an easy banter, leaving Sukuna to his own thoughts.

Maybe I should call her...didn’t I call her…can’t fucking remember.

But the longer I sat there, the more I felt that familiar weight pressing down. The feeling of forgetting something important resurfaces, and I can’t shake it off.

As the night drags on, Sukuna fights the urge to reach for his phone again, knowing that if he does, everything could change. But at the same time, it feels like he’s on the edge of something—something he can’t quite see but knows is there, waiting for him to make the first move.

What the hell am I doing?

I flicks the cigarette butt into the tray, the embers glowing as it lands.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, my voice rough. “What if I mess everything up? What if I don’t know how to make it right?”

Choso and Yuuji both turn to me, surprised by my admission.

“Then you figure it out,” Yuuji replies, his tone steady. “Just like you’ve always done. Just don’t shut her out.”

Maybe it’s time to stop running and start fighting. For once.

With a deep breath, Sukuna decides it’s time to stop overthinking it. He picks up his phone, staring at the screen, ready to reach out to Y/N.

This is my last chance...but I’m exhausted right now. Fuck!

Yuuji’s POV

Sukuna's exhaustion finally takes over as he sinks deeper into the couch, his body curling into itself. The low hum of the television fills the room, blending with the sound of his steady breathing. He drifts off, lost in the chaos of his mind.

Meanwhile, Yuuji glances at the sleeping figure of his older brother, a frown creeping across his face. Curious and a bit worried, he reaches for Sukuna's phone, its screen illuminated in the dim light. He unlocks it and starts scrolling through the messages, his brow furrowing as he realizes how many texts from Y/N have gone unanswered.

“Dude, look at this,” Yuuji says, wandering over to Choso, who’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Yuuji holds the phone out for Choso to see, displaying the countless messages from Y/N that Sukuna has ignored for the past month.

Choso glances at the screen, then rolls his eyes. “Mind your own business, Yuuji,” he replies, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Seriously, though,” Yuuji presses, a touch of frustration creeping in. “He’s been ignoring her for so long. What’s going on with him?”

Before Choso can respond, Sukuna’s phone starts ringing, the sound piercing through the quiet. Yuuji’s eyes widen, and he instinctively silences the ringer, a mix of concern and curiosity flashing across his face.

“What should we do?” Yuuji asks, looking at Choso for guidance, a bit of desperation in his tone.

Choso shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Mind our own business. It's not our place to interfere.”

Yuuji sighs, glancing back at Sukuna, who remains blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around him. “But I like Y/N. She’s cool and puts up with him,” he points out, gesturing to his older brother, still sleeping on the couch. “She deserves better than this.”

Choso lets out a breath, his frustration shifting to something softer as he considers Yuuji’s words. “Yeah, I get that. But what do you expect us to do? You think we can just barge in and demand he talk to her?”

Yuuji's eyes narrow, determination hardening his features. “Maybe that’s exactly what we should do. He needs a wake-up call. This isn’t just about him anymore. He’s got people who care about him—people who are worried.”

“Like you?” Choso scoffs, but there’s no real bite in his tone. “You think that’s going to make a difference?”

“Maybe,” Yuuji replies, his voice firm. “But if we don’t try, then we’re just letting him push everyone away. We can’t let him go down this path alone.”

Choso hesitates, the weight of Yuuji’s words sinking in. He knows Sukuna is struggling, knows that beneath the bravado lies someone broken and scared.

“Okay, let’s wake him up, then,” Choso finally concedes, pushing himself off the wall. “But if he gets pissed, that’s on you.”

Yuuji nods, determination burning in his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

Together, they approach the couch, the weight of their intentions hanging in the air. Yuuji crouches beside Sukuna, gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey, Sukuna. Wake up, man.”

Sukuna stirs, groaning as he squints against the light. “What the hell?” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled hair, still half-asleep.

“Time to get up,” Yuuji says, his tone serious now. “We need to talk.”

Sukuna blinks, confusion clouding his eyes as he tries to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Talk about what?” he grumbles, irritation creeping in as he stretches.

“About Y/N,” Choso interjects, crossing his arms again as he leans against the wall.

The mention of her name seems to clear the fog from Sukuna’s mind. “What about her?” he asks, sitting up straighter, instantly alert.

“You’ve been ignoring her, man,” Yuuji says, his voice firm but compassionate. “She deserves better than this.”

Sukuna’s heart sinks, the familiar guilt clawing at his insides. He opens his mouth to protest but finds no words.

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Yuuji continues, determination etched on his face. “You need to reach out to her. She cares about you, and you’re pushing her away. We can’t just sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

Sukuna looks between the two of them, the weight of their concern crashing over him.

Maybe I’m not the only one hurting here.

“I… I know,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Choso steps closer, his expression softening. “Then what are you waiting for? Call her. Don’t let this go on any longer.”

Sukuna glances down at his phone, the screen still displaying Y/N’s name. What am I waiting for?

With a deep breath, he picks it up, the decision weighing heavily on his heart. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and start fighting for the people who matter most.

Sukuna’s POV

I glance down at my phone as it lights up again, Y/N’s name flashing across the screen.

Not again.

I let it ring, barely registering the sound as I mumble to myself, “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

But the ringing doesn’t stop. I grit my teeth, a sense of dread bubbling in my stomach. “For fuck's sake,” I mutter, watching it ring again.

Why can’t she just give me a minute?

When the phone vibrates for the third time, I finally snap. “Fuck!” I answer, irritation spilling over as I press the phone to my ear. “What?”

“Where the hell have you been?” she shouts, her voice cracking like a whip through the line, the frustration palpable.

I wince, already regretting picking up. “I’ve been… busy,” I respond, my tone defensive.

“Busy ignoring me?” She scoffs, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes, her frustration radiating through the call.

This is so typical…

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside. “I’m not doing this right now, Y/N. It’s not a good time.”

“Not a good time? You’ve been dodging my calls for weeks! What the hell is going on with you?”

Weeks… The word hits me hard, the weight of it settling heavily on my chest. I can’t keep running from this.

“Look,” I start, my voice low, “my grandfather is dead.”

Silence falls on the other end, thick and suffocating. I can almost hear the gears turning in her head.

“...When’s the funeral?” she finally asks, her tone shifting from anger to concern.

“It was three weeks ago,” I reply, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue.

“Three weeks?” she whispers, disbelief lacing her words. “And you said nothing?”

“I'm handling it, Y/N!” I bite back, the frustration boiling over. I can feel the anger and grief bubbling up, the remnants of my grandfather’s absence clawing at my throat.

I don’t want to talk about this. Not now.

Her silence feels like a dagger, cutting deeper than any argument we've had before. “This isn’t how you handle things, Sukuna,” she finally says, her voice shaking.

“I’m not doing this dumb shit with you tonight,” I snap, the heat of the moment overwhelming me. “I’m hanging up.”

And with that, I cut the line, the sound of the call ending echoing in the stillness of the room.

What the hell was I thinking?

My heart races as I throw my phone onto the couch, the silence that follows feeling deafening. I bury my head in my hands, fighting against the emotions swirling inside me.

She doesn’t understand. She can’t know what this feels like… The anger, the pain, the constant ache of losing my grandfather and not being able to show it. How could I have told her?

I lean back against the couch, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

Just give me time…

But as I sit in the dim light, the loneliness creeps in. The silence is heavy, and I know I can’t keep pushing her away. I want to reach out, but the fear of exposing my vulnerability paralyzes me.

I close my eyes, wishing for the chaos to settle, for a moment of peace to wash over me. But it doesn’t come.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her. I’ll figure this out.

But as the minutes stretch on, I realize the truth—if I keep this up, I might lose her for good.

Ding.

I sigh, my heart sinking as I open my eyes, dreading that it’s another text from her. I reach for my phone, bracing myself for the disappointment, but I feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see the name flashing on the screen. It’s not Y/N.

It’s Toji.

I’m five minutes away and I got pizza and weed.

I throw the phone back onto the couch and turn to Yuuji and Choso, who are in the kitchen, their heads craned toward the door, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Zenin is coming over,” I announce, trying to keep my voice steady.

Yuuji shrugs, a nonchalant expression on his face. “And I don’t give a fuck.”

Choso snickers, and I can’t help but wonder,

Who raised this kid?

“Yuuji,” I say, my tone firm, “you’ve got school tomorrow. Head to bed.”

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the weariness creeping in. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I shift my gaze to Choso, who’s been sitting quietly, but I know he’s been feeling the pressure of finals coming up soon. “You need good grades to get into university, too. Go study or some shit.”

He raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I will, but it’s hard to focus with you two around.”

Great, more attitude. “If you can’t handle the distraction, then take your study materials and go somewhere else.”

“Not a chance,” he says, laughing as he grabs a bottle of soda from the fridge. “Besides, I want to see what Zenin brought.”

I shake my head, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite my efforts to maintain a stern facade. “You two are impossible.”

The door swings open a moment later, and Toji steps inside, a broad grin on his face, pizza boxes stacked high in his arms. “Guess who brought dinner!” he calls out, the aroma wafting through the air and instantly making my stomach growl.

“About damn time!” Yuuji jumps up, rushing over to help him with the boxes, while Choso just stands there, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

I lean back on the couch, watching the chaos unfold. This is a welcome distraction. I can feel the heaviness of the earlier conversation with Y/N slipping away, if only for a moment.

Toji, pulling out a baggie of weed from his pocket and tossing it on the couch next to me. “Let’s get this party started. It’s been a rough week for all of us.”

Yeah, rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But I nod, grateful for his presence, even if he’s a walking headache sometimes.

Maybe this is what I need—just a bit of normalcy, a moment to breathe.

I watch as Toji sets down two boxes of pizza on the table, and he turns his gaze to me, studying my face.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can hear the underlying concern.

I stay silent, reaching for the weed instead, the familiar ritual of rolling a blunt providing a momentary escape. As I begin to roll, I feel Toji’s eyes on me, a bead of sweat forming at the back of my neck.

“What?” I finally snap, my voice edged with irritation.

Toji sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Yuuji, ever the meddler, chimes in with a grin, “Y/N broke up with him.”

I shoot him a glare, my hands stilling. “She didn’t.”

“Sure sounded like you guys were about to,” Choso adds, his voice matter-of-fact, as if I hadn’t just dismissed Yuuji’s comment.

I lean back, rolling my eyes. “So you’re both minding my business now?”

Yuuji shrugs, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Of course.” He smacks his lips exaggeratedly, just to piss me off even more.

Toji raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath, the memory of our earlier fight flooding back, sharp and painful. “We got into it,” I say, my voice low. “She called me out for ignoring her, and I... I told her my grandfather died.”

“To be fair,” Toji interjects, “that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I know!” I shoot back, frustration creeping in. “But it was the way she said it. Like it was my fault I hadn’t told her sooner. I just—”

I stop, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of it all settle on my shoulders. “I didn’t want her to worry. I thought I could handle it. But I’m just a mess right now.”

“You can’t just shut her out,” Toji says, his voice steady, and I can tell he’s trying to keep me from spiraling. “You need to let her in. She cares about you.”

“Yeah, but does she really? Because it doesn’t feel like it right now,” I mutter, frustration boiling beneath the surface.

Choso exchanges a glance with Yuuji, and I know they’re thinking the same thing.

You’re fucking this up, Sukuna.

“Look,” Yuuji says, more serious now, “maybe just talk to her. Apologize or something. She might be pissed off, but she’ll listen. She always does.”

“I don’t know if I can face her after that,” I admit, the confession hanging heavy in the air.

Toji slaps my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “You don’t get to hide from this. Just be honest. You’ve got to get your shit together, man.”

I nod, taking a deep breath, the reality of it all sinking in. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The weight of my decisions looms over me, but amidst the chaos and noise of the kitchen, I can feel the glimmer of hope.

Maybe I can fix this… maybe it’s not too late.

I finish rolling the blunt and take a moment, grounding myself. “Alright, enough about me. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Yuuji and Choso dive into the pizza boxes, their laughter echoing around me. And for a moment, the laughter drowns out the noise in my head, the worries about Y/N fading to the background as I join them.

My phone rings again, cutting through the brief moment of normalcy. I glance at the screen and see it's Y/N. My stomach drops at the sight. I switch the ringer off again, desperate to avoid this conversation.

Toji, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He watches the phone and answers it. “Hey, what’s up, Y/N?”

I can hear her voice through the speaker, sharp and clear. “Where’s Sukuna?”

Toji shrugs, glancing at me. “He’s around. Is there something you need?”

I feel the air shift in the room as Y/N’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tell him to come get his shit from my place.”

My heart drops.

She isn’t doing this right now.

The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut.

Toji pauses, clearly surprised. “Are you sure about that?”

“His grandfather died,”

Y/N responds, her tone unyielding. “And?”

And?

The anger surges through me, hot and raw. I mouth to Toji to pass me the phone, but he shakes his head, his expression saying it all:

Don’t. Just let it go.

“Y/N, you know it’s not that simple,” Toji says, his voice steady but laced with caution. “He’s going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah, well, so am I,” she snaps back, frustration dripping from her words. “I can’t keep doing this, Toji. He’s been ignoring me, and I’m done. Just tell him to come get his things.”

I can feel my heart racing, the anger boiling beneath the surface.

She really done with me?

Toji glances at me again, gauging my reaction. “Y/N, I get that you’re upset, but maybe you should talk to him instead of kicking him out. You guys have been together for almost a year.”

“Exactly! Almost a year and I feel like I’m in this alone. I’m tired of waiting around for him to decide he wants to talk to me. I deserve better than this.”

Does she really think I don’t care?

“Okay, but…” Toji starts, but Y/N cuts him off.

“No, Toji. I’m not going to keep making excuses for him. He needs to take responsibility. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then that’s his choice.”

I’m clenching my fists now, the frustration spilling over. I can’t just let this happen.

“Just pass me the phone,” I finally say, my voice low and dangerous.

Toji gives me a hard look but eventually relents, handing me the phone with a reluctant sigh. I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

“Y/N,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, but it cracks slightly, betraying my anger. “You really want to do this right now?”

“What do you want me to say, Sukuna?” she replies, her voice steady yet tinged with hurt. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend everything’s okay?”

“I’m not ignoring you!” I shoot back, frustration bubbling over. “I’m dealing with shit, and I thought you’d understand. My grandfather just died, for fuck’s sake!”

“Then talk to me about it!” she retorts, her voice rising. “I can’t help you if you shut me out. I’m not asking for much; I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m handling it, Y/N,” I insist, my words coming out sharper than I intended. “But you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like right now.”

“Then make me understand!” she snaps. “Stop pushing me away!”

I can hear the desperation in her voice, and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut.

“Y/N, I…” I start, but the words fail me.

What do I say?

But before I can finish, she sighs deeply, the sound heavy with resignation. “Just come get your stuff. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure this out.”

“Fine,” I reply, my voice quiet. “I’ll be there.”

She doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches between us like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Y/N…”

But it’s too late. She hangs up, leaving me with nothing but the echo of our argument hanging in the air.

Toji and Choso watch me closely, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down. I want to scream, to lash out, but instead, I drop the phone to my side and run a hand through my hair, feeling the tension coil tighter in my chest.

The weight of the argument hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. With a heavy sigh, I pass my car keys to Choso. “Go pick up my stuff.”

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Nah, bro. You’re doing that on your own. I’m not getting in that mess.”

I scoff, frustration boiling over. “Seriously? You think I want to deal with this shit alone?”

“Yeah, I do,” Choso replies, crossing his arms defiantly. “I don’t want any part of that drama. You can’t just ignore her for weeks and expect her to roll over when you come crawling back.”

“Whatever, man,” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch. I turn to Toji, who’s watching us with a bemused expression. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving me off. “I’ll keep an eye on these two losers over here.” He messes up Yuuji’s hair, earning a frustrated grunt from the younger guy.

With a heavy heart and a storm brewing in my chest, I head to my car. The engine roars to life, but it does little to drown out the chaos in my mind.

What the hell am I even going to say to her?

#black reader #black tumblr #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sherewrytes

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zyonsay · 7 months ago

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Parisienne im Mund SKI AGGU

Summary: Shooting the Balla Balla MV!

Reader: Genderneutral

Warnings: Smoking

Now playing: 'Balla Balla' by Ski Aggu

AN: Heya everyone! Finally some Ski Aggu content! I feel like there's such a lack of fics about him, which probably is since he's a german artist who doesnt cater to anyone besides german speakers- At least thats how i imagine it?? Anyways! This was really hard to write cuz in my mind lil bro does NOT speak english, which makes it sooo difficult for me to make him speak english. Idk, maybe im just yapping. Alsooo!! I mostly write male readers but i thought since theres barely any ski aggu fics i‘d give a lil treat to fem aligned people too :)

Die, die ich date, hat uns Karten für die Oper gekauft Doch ich kann heut nicht, weil ich mich mit meinen Govas besauf' Jemand legt mir eine Peitsche, doch die macht mir nichts aus, Weil ich hab' viele tolle Ranzen wie Scout

A row of dressed up people stood around, waiting for their cue. You were currently doing a favor for your friend from Hamburg, Luca. Recently he made more time for his main passion, filming music videos and social media content. Long story short, his buddy needed a bunch of people for a music video and since you owe him a favor, you gladly came along.

Ja, ich bin ein heißer Atze, ich tanz' bauchfrei im Club Hol' meinen Perso raus, doch nicht, weil ich mich ausweisen muss

The camera panned around the entrance of the club and music filled the room. Just beforehand you were personally introduced to the man in whose music video you’d appear.

“Hey, das ist Y/N. Basically meine rechte Hand.” Luca placed his arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly into him while smiling widely. “Oh hey, danke fürs kommen!”, you blinked for a second, your german was sadly quite rusty. “Oh umm, sorry but my german is absolute shit.”, you pursed your lips shyly. The young guy in front of you smiled. “No problem! I’m Aggu by the way.” He held his hand out to dap you up. You interlinked your own hand with his. “Nice to meet you, love your music.” A genuine smile spread across your lips, which he immediately mirrored. He was known to wear a ski mask, but right now you were glad to be able to look into his blueish grey eyes. Something was drawing you to him, maybe his sharp features, his messy blond hair or the crooked but sweet smile. “Thanks! I’ve heard so much about you from Luca.” You tilted your head, nudging your friend who was still next to you. “Only good things, right?”

The smoke machines were going ham and the air inside the rented club was getting way too hot. Someone had brought along a bubble gun, so colorful glycerin blobs now bobbed through the air and occasionally landed on a person’s head. “Ok, nächster Take in 3, 2, 1!” Luca began filming and just how the instructions earlier had said, everybody started jumping around and dancing, mimicking the nightlife at a club. Music boomed trough a speaker, helping Aggu keep the pace and time his gestures correctly. The lights flashed, you purposely spilled your drink while dancing, the messier it looked, the better. It all began to feel more and more like a fever dream. Aggu had lit a cigarette and was wildly gesturing at the camera while singing to the lyrics, the melody of which flowed through the crowd.

Ich rapp' darüber, was in meinem Leben passiert, Treff' 'ne Granate im Backi, die meine Nägel lackiert, woah, mh Sie sagt mir: „Komm, wir gehen von hier“ Weil der Backstage Arsch ist wie ich später bei ihr.

Next up was a scene at the backstage, Luca had insisted stubbornly that you should play in that scene. Two seats were smushed into a corner and a few things were thrown around to make it look messy. You propped yourself in one of those seats, facing Aggu. He was rapping about something something nail polish, but all you knew is that you had to whisper in his ear for a take. Carefully, you leant closer to him, your back was turned against the camera. His scent was intoxicating, a light hint of smoke lingered on him. Feeling a bit cheeky, you laid your hand on the front of his shoulder, practically resting yourself against him. A slight flush spread across your cheeks at the proximity, you were thankful that the camera wasn’t filming your face.

Aggu leant over the bar and let out an exhausted huff. “Fertig!”, Luca grinned from one ear to another. The takes you had now were pretty damn good and even though it was fun, everybody was happy to finish the video shooting. “You ok?” You spun around on one of the barstools. “Hm?”, he hummed while tiredly lifting his head from where he was resting it, buried in his arms. “Yeah, just tired. But I’m happy with how it turned out.” You nodded lightly, stopping your endless spinning. “C’mon, I’ll sponsor you a Cig.” Even under the ski goggles you could see his eyes light up.

You placed a cigarette between your lips and then held out your pack of Parisiennes to him. The two of you were sat on the step of some stairs at the back entrance of the club, your legs touching. “You got fire?”, a slightly embarrassed look flashed over your face. Somehow you always forgot to bring your lighter – or you lose it by the time you need it. “Mhm.” Aggu hummed. He had taken the ski goggles off and once again you found yourself glancing at his eyes. He expected you to take the lighter into your own hands, but you just held your cigarette in place and leaned in towards him. A few strands of hair loosened and fell into your face. He couldn’t help his breath hitching at the closeness, he could smell your cologne. It smelled like green tea mixed with a minty undertone, or to put it differently, a breath of fresh air. It took Aggu a second to register your movement, but he then reached his lighter forward, holding the flame to the cigarette between your lips. The orange light illuminated your face and made it glow; he was mesmerized. Your eyes fluttered open and you caught him looking at you, a slight smile spread across your lips.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Parisienne im Mund, ich bin ein toller Macker

With a sweet, slightly stupid grin he lit his own cigarette. A light chuckle escaped you, he seemed to fancy you as much as you fancied him. He took a long drag of his cigarette before leaning against your shoulder, the nicotine rush fuzzing up his mind.

Ich bin balla-balla Komplett gaga Ihr Swag 2010, sie trägt einen Rock mit Brakka

#welcome to zyons rubber room #male reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #ski aggu #ski aggu x reader #male reader insert #x male reader #fanfic #gay #x gn reader #gn reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x fem

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months ago

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Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt. 7

a/n: shout out to my wonderful partner, who had to listen to me rant and rave about this fic.

Warnings: Explicit Smexual Content (we did it guys), Dubious Consent (whoops), Mention of Scars, Smoking, Good Old Fingerblasting, Reader is Still Plus Sized. Cross-Posted on AO3

Summary: And as such, the board is set, and the pawns are in place.

Vicarious Masterlist

The Instagram feed of your private account seems to taunt him, the orange ring around your profile picture almost begging him to tap it. He doesn't particularly care about the Vaught-curated, fake one, that posts smiling pictures of Fireball doing superhero training. He doesn't care about the hairspray commercial, or the short videos of you posing in the recording studio, where they make you sing some pop-rock swivel. He does enjoy the one short clip from an interview, where you praise him like there's no tomorrow, but it's a small flicker of interest in the sea of insignificant blabber.

No. What grabs his attention, what is the only notification he ever gets on his phone, is the private and intimate life of Smirnoff. Hidden under already ten times broken website coding, followed by a rather small group of your friends from different points of your existence. And oh, what an existence it is.

Another day off, once every week, and you've fled the Tower in the early hours of the morning. He can't exactly follow you out, despite wanting to do so, to an almost alarming degree. Homelander doesn't get days off. He doesn't have the luxury of normalcy, because by all means, he's not normal. His eyes follow you like a hawk, from the surveillance point of his penthouse, where he sees your retreating form greet the doorman.

It is quite disconcerting to him, as he takes in the way you interact with insignificant Vaught employees, after a month. The smiles, the borderline servile pleasantries, so unfitting to your role as a superhero, as his god-damned Sidekick. Once, he saw you pick up a note, which flew out of some worm's pile of documents, hand it to them with a bright expression. Like it's the most normal of occurrences, like you should be bending over for anyone other than himself.

He would've intervened. In that small moment, he would've crossed the floors of the Tower, grabbed you by that soft underarm and showed you, exactly, who you should reserve your politeness for. But, he wouldn't interrupt Madelyn's speech, no matter how much he wanted to, he was tied at the moment, and as the day went on, the incident slipped his mind.

Which he sorely regrets, as he peeks out his window, sensing through floors upon floors of noise-filled concrete and metal, that you're back.

He seeks out your newest story with ease, his fingers flying over the touch screen. Your account pops up, like it's done for the past month, the colorful ring around your profile picture calling to him like a siren from mythology he's never bothered to read.

The lights of New York never dim, and as he stands by the window, overlooking the nightlife of the city, he pauses, just for a moment. He wonders if you hate this place too. Not in the same way he does, that's for sure, but he's seen your house, your neighborhood. He's seen the way you flinch, whenever a particularly loud sound from the outside wriggles its way into the Tower. The way your nose scrunches at the fumes in the air, the way your eyebrows jump to your hairline, whenever you see a price tag on the water bottles stuck inside a vending machine. Even if you can afford them, even if you'll be able to afford them long after your contract is terminated.

Honestly, you should be on your knees, thanking him for dragging you into the real world. For taking you away from the insignificant, lazy life of the suburbs. He's also aware, that precisely because you should be grateful, you hate this situation. You're too damned proud, even if you try to conceal it. He's getting good at reading you.

First picture.

You're back at that disgusting, dirty food joint right outside the Tower. He can practically taste the unbearable amounts of sugar in your latte, and he frowns slightly at the whipped cream almost spilling over the sides of the glass. His tongue smacks against his pallet, imagining himself licking the artificial taste out of your mouth, letting the carbonation fizzle on his taste buds, until it turns into liquid, flowing from your lips into his throat.

In a staggering display of self-restraint, he swipes to the next photo.

"What the fuck is that" the black text says, accompanied by a horrified emoji, and he frowns, because honestly, he has no idea. He's looking at a very zoomed in photo of a bug, or... Some other alien creature. He grunts low in his throat and swipes.

There's a three hours gap between the insect photo, and the next one, and he brings the screen closer to his face.

It's a video. A short clip of you, splayed on the floor. Someone else is holding the camera, and despite his best efforts, he can feel a small pang of jealousy crawling up his spine.

Your cheeks are warm with exertion, your chest rising and falling in deep breaths, and he absentmindedly notices a very beaten up dog toy in your hand, traces of saliva still on it, as well as your fingers. A black, wet nose enters the picture, as the person filming zooms in on your face. You sputter, as the dog starts to lick your cheek, and the sound of your laughter fills his penthouse.

That same, rough noise you use around your friends. The loud cackling, that sounds simultaneously like nails on a chalkboard, and the greatest of symphonies. He wonders what he'll have to do, for you to laugh like that around him. He's funny, he knows he can be funny, he's the god-damned Homelander.

He's everything.

Homelander zeroes in on the way your chest shakes under a simple tank top, as your body convulses in bounds of laughter. And then suddenly, he freezes, all the heated, dangerous thoughts slipping out of his brain, as he notices something. He replays the video, once, twice, three times. Zooms in, tilts his head, tries to conjure up a clearer image from the amassing of pixels.

- Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar - your voice carries through the metal-enforced walls of the tower, cutting through concrete and worming itself right into his ear.

He's standing outside the door to your rooms, his eyes following your form as you glide through the kitchen area, hips swaying under a flowy skirt. It's the same outfit you've worn in the story, and despite himself, Homelander starts to salivate, the muscles of his stomach tightening ever so slightly.

Your singing is, well, to be quite honest, not good. Which could've been anticipated, considering the amounts of auto tune they layered over your voice, in that horrendous song. It was clear you were not a singer, which you've mentioned, extensively, to Stillwell. She ignored it, of course. The small note in your files about taking part in a student rendition of a play twice in your life, and a teeny tiny mention of some band activity, was enough to set her unshakable resolve on truly milking the "rockstar" persona.

Still, it doesn't stop you from belting out the refrain like you're part of the band, your body swaying, as you hug the pillar of your kitchen area in a dramatic display.

- Oh moon of Alabama, we now must say goodbye...

He watches like a hawk, through concrete and metal, his eyes burning at the corners, as he tries so hard to catch that elusive thing. That small flicker he's sure he's seen on his screen, just minutes ago, but to no avail. And he has to know. Why, he's not sure himself, but the need to make sure, to uncover another layer of your being is too strong to ignore, and with a huff of frustrated air, he finally makes up his mind.

The hard, demanding knock on your door startles you from your impromptu, private performance. Bare feet pad on the carpet, as you rush to the stereo system, turning the music down, before skipping towards the entrance to your room, curiosity and just a flicker of anxiety mixing within your gut.

By all means, today is the one day you shouldn't be disturbed, so whoever this was, must have a pretty important reason to stop by your anything but humble abode.

- Yeah? - that's the only word that you manage to say, as you open the door, before a flash of blue enters your vision.

You barely have the time to realize, who exactly is standing in front of you, before a gloved hand darts out in your direction, fingers gripping the cleavage of your top tightly. A strangled sound of surprise and outrage escapes your throat, as blonde mass of hair invades your vision.

Homelander kicks the door closed, as his hands tug mercilessly on the fabric of your shirt. Your arms flail in the air, before you have half the mind to grab his wrists, sputtering wildly, as you try (and fail) to free yourself from his hold.

- What the fuck are you doing? - your voice comes just a bit more on the panicked side, and you mentally scold yourself.

He doesn't seem to notice this slip-up, too occupied with whatever he's hoping to find in your bra. Your face burns red against your better judgement, as his free hand wrenches itself in between your breasts, all but scooping your flesh to the sides, until your sternum is more visible.

Finally, he blinks, freezing in his place, blue eyes staring at your skin so intensely, you're convinced he's going to burn another hole through you.

- What is that? - he asks, voice low and more dangerous, than you've ever heard up until this point.

You frown, confusion written clearly on your face, and in response, he jabs his gloved, red finger right at the center of your chest, your body swaying slightly from the impact.

- This. What the fuck is this? - he repeats, a note of impatience sneaking into his tone, and you tug your chin as far down as it can go, struggling to see, what exactly he's pointing at.

And then, like a flicker of genius, your mind catches up. With a huff of frustration, you finally take a sharp step back, letting the material of your top tear, a scrap of sad fabric dangling from his hand, as you throw him a look, that borders on annoyance.

- It's a scar - you try to keep your voice indifferent, try to deny him the satisfaction of your reaction, but goddamn, this is your day off, and he's acting insane.

He looks utterly out of place inside your room, although you can't imagine anyone, except maybe Ozzy Osbourne in his prime, fitting into this strange jumble of rock paraphernalia. You barely fit in here yourself, with your sweaters, and tops, and flowy skirts that flutter around your ankles. Still, seeing him here, in your space, fills you with a sense of discomfort. This is supposed to be your safe house, your one hiding spot in the hell site that is the Vaught Tower. A naive way of thinking, considering the man you wanted to hide from the most, could see and hear through walls, but still, you'll take an illusion if you can't have the real thing.

Homelander blinks a couple of times, you can see the muscles of his jaw moving under his skin in a way, you've come to recognize. He's thinking. It's never good when he's thinking. Your first month as his glorified sidekick is coming to an end, and you already know, nothing good, nothing kind, will ever come out of that brain of his.

- You... - his eyes flicker over your entire figure, from head to toe - Scar?

The note of incredulity in his voice makes you sigh, and you tug the torn fabric of your top upwards, just to try and shield yourself from his gaze. Slowly, he notices the scrap from your shirt still in his hand, and as he looks down at it, his fingers run absentmindedly over the fabric, the frayed ends sticking out. Your eyebrow twitches, when he pockets the material, but you decide not to comment. Not while you're still uncertain of his, well, everything at the moment.

- Of course I scar - you say slowly, trying to keep your voice calm - You burned a hole through me, remember?

Finally, that seems to snap him from whatever daze he's been in, and he regards you fully with a sharp jerk of his head.

- You said you heal faster - he points out, and you can see, the way his legs twitch, as if he's undecided whether he wants to close the distance between the both of you.

- Scars are a part of the healing process - you tell him, words sounding a bit rehearsed, a bit too much like a doctor reciting the same phrase to every patient.

The Doors continue to play, quietly cutting through the air, mixing with the sound of your quickened breathing. Somehow the once comforting music starts to feel more and more like a soundtrack from a horror movie.

You can't stand in place anymore, a nervous sort of buzzing entering your system like a tsunami wave, and against your every instinct, you turn your back to the predator inside your safehouse. Feet padding over the carpet, you find yourself at the window, cracking it open, and letting the cool, fumes-filled air of New York into the room. He's not even trying to be stealthy, as he comes closer, and when you turn to face him, you're met with a myriad of conflicting emotions running through his expression.

A childish sort of giddiness, at the prospect of marking your skin, of carving himself into the very essence of your flesh. And a deep disdain for such ordinary show of weakness, of humanity. You don't like either of the options, and your hands reach for the half-smoked pack of cigarettes at the nearby table.

- So you knew, you'll scar - he starts, his eyebrows raising - And you didn't think to mention it?

It wouldn't change a thing, and the both of you know it. You fish out a lighter out of your pocket.

- And you shot yourself in the fucking stomach - he continues, his tone growing lighter, like he doesn't believe the very real events, that transpired between the two of you - You can't be that stupid, I've seen a college mention somewhere in your files.

That makes you huff, as you take out one of the cigarettes with practiced ease, placing it between your lips, while looking at him utterly unamused.

- For English literature, not... - your hand flails in the air - Whatever... Borderline abusive, work interactions.

He scoffs at the statement, like it's a joke. Like you're not forced to second guess every little action around him. The lighter flicks to light, and suddenly his mouth splits into a smirk. Sharpened canines flash at you, a small shiver coils itself at the base of your spine.

- You know what they say about nerdy girls, right? - he quips, voice lowering into a strange sort of rumble, that would perhaps sound seductive, if it weren't him.

- I can guarantee you, I've heard every version of this...

- They don't know how to smoke - he cuts you off, jutting his chin out slightly in your direction, making you finally look down at what you're actually doing.

The cigarette is on fire. Literally.

You've lit the wrong end, and your nostrils fill with a biting scent of burning plastic, as the filter melts in the heat.

You sputter, free hand waving in the air in quickness, and the small, burning stick flies out of your mouth, and shoots across the room, until it hits the sink in your small kitchen area. Homelander's eyes crinkle at the sides, as he takes in that small display of your power. You run after it to the sound of Homelander's rumbling laughter, too mocking to laugh with him. Fortunately, you manage to drown the burning end in water, before the smoke detector goes off, and for a moment, you allow yourself to stand there, leaning heavily on the counter, watching the cigarette swim.

He slides into your kitchen like it's his playpen, towering over you with a smug expression, and you have to bite your lip, because fuck. That was, perhaps, actually funny.

And in the warm light, he looks less like your nightmare, and more like an all-american boy, you could've met at a college party. A shuddering breath leaves you, much too close to a laugh, and his lips pull back even more, into a boyish sort of a smile, that just barely makes your stomach flutter.

- Yeah... Okay - you concede, giving up ever so slightly in this strange situation, and you try to suppress another shiver, as his blue eyes suddenly seem much too sharp.

And then, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, the padding on his suit making his chest look almost ridiculously puffy, as he takes a deep breath, looking away from you in a manner that might be mistaken as, god forbid, shy.

- So - he starts, immediately putting you on high alert, even if there's a flicker of curiosity brewing inside your gut - How was your day off?

You blink up at him confused, before realizing, that he doesn't really care. His shoulders sag slightly, already bored with the conversation he started himself. And you want him out of here, so you mirror his stance, crossing your arms, and take a long breath.

- Good. - you attempt, and fail, to sound casual - I've been to....

The rest of the sentence is cut off by your strangled gasp, as your chin suddenly gets pushed up by a gloved hand. And then it's tongue, teeth and a whisper of lips, all but attacking you, poking, probing, demanding entry. Your arms flail once again, your nails dragging over the marble countertop, over the geometric patterns of his suit.

Homelander all but crushes your body against the kitchen counter, one of his hands coming up, roughly palming at your breast, fingers sinking into the soft material of the bra cup, into the even softer flesh. He drags the material down, until you spill out into his palm.

Is this the Maybe you've been thinking about? It doesn't feel like a Maybe.

Your mind races between all the possible exits from this situation, every single one falling short, when he finally grows tired of the barrier of your teeth. His other hand grabs your jaw tightly, pressing on the tissue until your mouth falls open on instinct. Like a fucking dog, that's being tricked into swallowing a tablet, his tongue slides into your mouth.

He groans, deep within his chest, as if this is some moment of immense relief, and you're stuck in limbo, undecided between gagging and reciprocating the kiss. Both options seem as likely, and that thought terrifies you to no end.

The decision is made for you, once again, as his knee slides between your shaky legs, brushing ever so slightly against the heat, that's been steadily growing, and god help you, it feels good.

A low, keening sound rips through your chest, your throat, and he swallows it like it's the only air he'll ever need, responding with a grunt of his own, his fingers tightening over your breast. His other hand slides down, over your ribs, your waist, until it settles on your hip, grabbing the flesh there with all his might, and pulling.

Pushing, and pulling, until your hips stutter into a steady grind against his knee.

You're convinced your blood has turned into living lava, undescribable warmth flooding your abdomen with every move, spilling into your cheeks, the tips of your fingers.

Finally, he detaches himself from your mouth, and as you gasp for air, your senses return to you in a cold wave. Despite the heat, the tingling, overtaking sensation building in your core, the tantalizing way he plays with your breast, your mind cools itself. Finding your voice comes easier than you would've anticipated, and you vow to explore this unexpected level-headedness at a later time.

Your hand finds his chin, nails biting into his impenetrable skin, forcing him to lock eyes with you. The dangerous, almost animalistic darkness within them, would've scared you, at any other time, but right now, all you feel is calmness. The sort of silence you'd experience in the very eye of the hurricane.

- Go to your room.

You almost don't recognize your voice, the low commanding tone that comes somewhere deep within, from some undiscovered part of yourself that seems to come out in his presence only. You're still undecided whether it's Fireball, Smirnoff, or this strange third thing. Perhaps it's all of them combined. Doesn't matter now, what matters is, he stops.

Everything comes to a screeching halt. The knee, the hands, even the song playing quietly on the stereo system. You're convinced he's turned into a statue in front of you, until he blinks. A feverish series, another tell of his running thoughts. His mouth falls open, traces of you cooling against his bottom lip. And then his jaw sets, along with his decision.

- No - your stomach drops - Give me something.

Confidence slips through your fingers like air, as the realization of just how much unprepared for this balance you really are. How you've bitten off so much more than you can chew, and there's no other way forward for you, than to choke on it.

- I... - your voice lodges itself firmly in your throat - I don't...

- You want to play this game? - his voice is low, hot breath fanning against the column of your throat - Play it right. Give me something.

You swallow hard, his eyes drifting to the movement, the pulse running rampant in your artery. This must be that elusive Maybe your friend talked about, but as you stare at him, eyes wide and uncertain, you suddenly feel like the weight of the world has been dropped on your shoulders, which were not meant to carry this burden. Still, in this eye of the hurricane, you make a decision, because there's nothing else to do, nowhere to turn, not really.

Your head nods on its own accord, spine stiff and cracking, and you can see a flicker of victory pass his features. Not in a way that would suggest relief. No. He knew from the start, there's no other way for this interaction to end.

And as such, his hands leave you, as he unclasps the velcro at the wrist of his right glove, the sound jarring in the thick tension between the two of you. Then, the loosened leather presses itself into your lips, resting at the border of your teeth.

- Bite - he says, low in his throat, and the hinges of your jaw creak as you sink your teeth into the hard material.

His hand slides out, elegant fingers, veins climbing the expanse of skin, and your breath hitches ever so slightly. Homelander doesn't waste time. The moment he's free of that one article of clothing, he reaches down, gathering your skirt up. You can feel the flowy material slide up your calves, your thighs, until it bunches up around his forearm. The pads of his fingers brush over the well worn cotton of your underwear, and your eyes flutter, a sign of betrayal from your own body.

He drinks in every reaction, every change, as he slowly, tugs your panties to the side. You can see those sharp canines flash in a borderline giddy smile, as he finally makes contact with your flesh.

- Would you look at that... - he quips, and you know very well, just how drenched you really are, just how tight the muscles of your stomach had been. - Aren't you just the perfect little Sidekick.

There's no time to answer him, as suddenly your walls flutter around his fingers, his thumb finding it's goal with an almost unbelievable ease. Your hips stutter, torn between pushing him closer, deeper, and pulling away. He hums in your ear, his mouth finding purchase behind your ear, where he sucks and bites, until you shiver. Your hands fly up, grabbing at the bronze eagles on his shoulders, nails scraping against the metal, as your mouth falls open. His other hand, which is currently not occupied with absolutely wrecking your nether regions, pushes into your mouth, thumb pressing against your tongue, leather running over your bottom teeth.

He tilts your head up, forces you to look at him, those once baby blue eyes are almost completely eaten by his dark irises, which are lapping at every twist of your eyebrows, every flutter of your eyelashes. Your breath hitches in your throat, as he pushes his fingers as far as they'll go, pressing up into you, the sounds becoming downright obscene. The pressure builds with an almost alarming speed, your thighs starting to shake from the exertion.

His head dips down, tongue sneakig from between his teeth, and he licks a long stripe between your breasts, mouth closing over the small, light scar. There, he sucks, until your back arches, until the skin becomes pink, then red.

And despite the fact, that situation is messed up beyond belief. Despite the fact, that hate burns low in your stomach, it's fire rising with every motion of his fingers, every press of his thumb...

You let go.

Your hand grabs at the back of his head, fingers digging into his skin, pushing him down to meet your open mouth. And you kiss him. Truly kiss him, pouring every hidden or otherwise emotion into the swirling of your tongue. You swallow the loud groan coming from deep within him, and let the pressure in your stomach snap like a rubber band. You've always been quiet, and today is not any different, as your body arches against him, hips moving in an uncoordinated stutter, riding his hand like your life depended on it.

You revel in the way his eyes widen in surprise almost more than your orgasm. The realization, that you've caught him off guard, setting your nerve endings on fire.

He recovers quickly, pulling away from the kiss, his mouth hanging open. Then, his hand rips itself out of you, before you have the time to stop spasming, coming up to his mouth, where he cleans his fingers, shoving them into his mouth. The noise he makes, when he tastes you for the first time, borders on pornographic, and with a freezing shiver running down your spine, you think he looks almost beautiful like this. If he was anyone else, he would be perfect.

Alas, he's himself, and you are what your life has made of you, so you force your breathing to level, until you're sure you're ready to speak.

- Go to your room - you repeat, a note of hoarseness sneaking into your tone, but his eyes flash nonetheless. - Now.

There's just a second of hesitation. An excruciating moment, where your heart nearly stops in your chest. And then, your skirt falls back into place, fluttering around your ankles, as the heat of his body leaves you. That hellish American flag billows after him, and now you're sure the stars and stripes are mocking you.

But he's gone.

The door slams after him, and finally you're left alone, moisture cooling on the insides of your thighs in a way that makes your stomach twist. You can't think about it. You try to shove this entire situation into another box, hide it from sight, stomp on it like an annoying cockroach. Knees buckle under you, and the coolness of the kitchen floor is a jarring contrast to your burning skin.

On instinct, pushed by some invisible force, you reach up, fingers closing over the cigarette pack and the lighter, and this time, you light it correctly. It takes three puffs, until the smoke detector catches on, the water system coming to life, spraying the entirety of your room with cold water.

And you continue sitting there, on the floor, holding your wet cigarette between your teeth, letting the water cover everything, you included. It's okay. You can afford it.

You're a rock star.

#my writing #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #the boys amazon #homelander x you #gonna be a real f fest from here on

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waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle · 11 months ago

Text

ᵤₙfₒᵣₜᵤₙₐₜₑₗy ₛₘᵢₜₜₑₙ ₍ₘₐfᵢₐ bₒₛₛ! Gₒⱼₒ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ₎

Summary: Life leads you to treacherous roads after deciding to enter the dangerous life you knew well not to follow.Having gojo by your side inviting you deeper and deeper into all that’s wrong in the world, inciting you to be selfish and carefree wasn’t supposed to be to your liking, so why do you shiver with adrenaline every time he decides to be the devil on your shoulder?

Contents: Mafia boss gojo x secretary reader.(civilian au ig)

-Secret crush Gojo!

-Yandere Gojo

Gojo being an egocentric bitch! Wealthy gojo! X no nonsense reader.

Warnings: trigger warning if you’re not interested in anything mafia related. The narration of this story is inspired by Latin and Asian mafia. Violence and use of blood!

Wc:1.8k

🏷:@busyreader17 @starlight5cat @xavlyzn

(Idk If I was supposed to tag y’all in the new chapter, sorry if it bothers you but I’m kinda new to this whole fanfic tumblr thing 🙈🫶🏻)

Chapter 4

*　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦

As the busy Shanghai nightlife contrasted your gloominess with its vibrant lights and loud people, you allowed your anger to fuel your fast-paced steps to lead you to your destination.

What destination exactly?

Well…

You didn’t know just yet.

Before you could notice you got lost in the beautiful chaos that is this city, a city where you know no one and all you have on yourself is your cellphone. As you stood still thinking about what your next move should be, then you suddenly smiled at yourself as you remembered you somehow managed to lose that long-legged freak about two blocks ago.

That peace is shortly interrupted as you feel a cold finger touch your shoulder from the Back.

-“I Know I have made a mistake and I’ll accept any punishment that doesn’t include you leaving my side. That one is the most unbearable of them all.”-He muttered as he looked down unable to face your distraught expression.-“Plus did you really think you’d lose me after springing some blocks?”- He said as he returned his gaze to yours.-“ I always come back you know. And for you specifically, I’ll even crawl back if it’s necessary.”

To you it sounded like a joke but you would be surprised if you knew what he was capable of doing for your love.

All you could do was give him a disgusted look as you responded.

-“You make me sick, what’s your fucking problem?! You dare to almost put me and jail and then you show up high and mighty begging for forgiveness?? Why should I forgive you? All you’ve caused me are problems and to your discontent, I’m finally done with all of this.”

He showed a displeased expression as he noticed you didn’t care for his sincere apology, but he wasn’t gonna let this slide so he pulled you into an abandoned alleyway with the hopes that you could talk better.

-“Let go of me! I’m not going anywhere with you.”-you blurted out as you smacked his hand away.

-“Please just hear me out, if you're not content with my apology I’ll let you go.”- He lied through his teeth as he showed you his puppy eyes.He was putting his life on the line with this acting gig , he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you decided to abandon him.

You glare at him in a distrusting matter, but as you recall he’s never been dishonest right up to this moment. So you lower your claws and follow him to where he wants to go.

-“If I’m being honest with you I’m not used to treating normal people like you, I’m used to treating thugs who wouldn’t give a damn if they lost everything in a second. So I could say that I did what I did thinking you wouldn’t care for much for it, now l know it’s not an excuse and I’ll have you know that I take full responsibility for my actions and that I-“

Gojo was interrupted during his speech by a rustle at the entrance of the alleyway.

The next thing you know a beer bottle is being thrown next to your head, you can’t help but scream out and duck to the floor trying to process what just happened, your boss turns as he feels for something under his coat, scanning the area for danger.

As the steps, Drew closer a group of 3 tough -looking guys stomped in, each of them playing with a different weapon in their rough scarred hand. As they targeted the two of you with their eyes the tallest who seemed to be the leader ultimately spoke.

-“Finally I catch you two alone, sorry to break up your lover's quarrel but me and that albino bastard have some business to tend to. So I’ll let a fine lady like yourself leave, but you.”- He spat out as he pointed a flick knife directly at gojo.-“But since this cheating mother fucker doesn’t know how to respect my boss’s territory. I guess I’ll have to teach this preppy son of a bitch some respect.”

You looked up at Gojo for some sort of response but all he did was stare at the offender as if he knew something the other party didn’t. As if this confrontation was an opportunity instead of an inconvenience. An opportunity to let go of all of his pent-up frustration, an opportunity to let all his raw, nasty feelings out after caging them up for a gentleman-like facade for your pretty self.

-“3 against one. Your boss’s a bitch for sending you all to do this.”-Gojo said as he looked around for something, as soon as he found what he was looking for his eyes sparkled. He crouched down and cuffed up his charcoal grey suit up to his elbows revealing a tattoed forearm twisted with black and white thorns.

As the tall figure in front of you grasped a long metal tube; he flexed his veins in the dim night light. In your time meeting him you never thought that he had all that ink under those tailored designed suits.

-“Awww how cute gonna defend your girlfriend? If you feel the odds against you; we’ll let her join, we won’t be too hard on her.”-The offender slurred as he looked at your trembling frame, hugging your knees as if you could hide like a ball.

Cold sweat adorned your forehead as you pondered the chances of getting out of this one alive, you couldn’t yell out for help or call trusty Geto without the gangster knowing. All you could do was pray that Gojo could land a hard punch and that your quivering knees wouldn’t give up on you if you managed to run away.

Next, their leader clenched his sticknife firmly in his hand as he launched forward at Gojo, but to your surprise, your boss swung back the metal stick as if it was a baseball bat that then struck the poor man’s head; his head bounced at impact, the force of the hit forcing his body to slum against the brick wall.

-“Gojo!”-You yelled out in horror with the hopes that all this nightmare and suffering would end in a second.

-“Sorry baby, please turn away. Who hits first; hits hardest.”-Grumbled the icy-eyed man as he looked back at you for a split second he wore the biggest smile on his blood-splattered face.

As soon as they saw their leader down the two henchmen tried to attack Gojo but before they could get close enough your knight in rusted armor whacked the pole against oh the guy's stomach causing him to hit the ground in excruciating pain as he grasped his stomach, next thing you know the other guy has his knees shattered as is now sobbing as he clutches his legs, rolling in pain.

You didn’t want this, this isn’t what you had planned, all you wanted to do was explore the city, but before you could continue to lament yourself as you lay there in shock looking at the agonizing figures before you. The noise of the metal stick hitting the ground interrupts you. Slowly your boss starts to get closer and soon you smell the blood reek on his tux.

Before he could say anything you lunged to hug his built torso as you cried into his chest smearing mascara all over the expensive cloth, he felt his heart flutter at the feeling of having you all on him in a disheveled matter. And as soon as he hugged you back, all the chaos was worth it for him. He would beat up as many guys as necessary just so he could sense your small frame quiver under his touch as you looked for solace in him.

And if you were being honest, you hated to admit it but you felt protected and cared as he combed your hair with his slender fingers. Your cheeks blushes as he planted a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

Sniffing his cologne mixed with sweat and blood wasn’t all that bad if he continued to Pat you back with one hand as he swaddled your face with the other. Maybe you were taking advantage of the situation but your heart felt full and warm as he coddled you in his arms.

But as if god heard you and punished you for your thoughts he promptly stepped away to look into your teary eyes and say.

-“C'mon princess, we gotta leave this place.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

It is currently 12 am and you are back at the villa, as you try to comprehend all that just happened, Gojo swipes a warm wet cloth across your face attempting to remove your ruined makeup. The bed sunk under his weight as he carefully tugged your eyelashes under the damp towel to get you as clean as possible as he sat beside you in clean fresh sweat.

Geto stands beside him as the guilt eats him up for not protecting you as he should have.

All he did was run to your rescue as soon as his best friend gave him your location. But in the end, all he felt like was a useless piece of shit, as he stared at your puffy eyes his cell phone rang in his pocket, he then promptly exits the room putting the bowl on the nightstand so he could take the call and not bother you any further.

As your boss notices you start to yawn, he quickly stands up to cover you with a fluffy blanket that is laid at your bed rest.

-“I feel pathetic, You're the one that saved mebut here you are tending to me.”-You mumbled as you looked up at him with doe eyes.

He just grinned and patted your head.

-“I was the one who put you in that mess, so in the end I hope you find forgiveness in your heart for an idiot like me.”- He responded as he scratched his undercut.

You managed to let out a chuckle.

-“You saved my life, I guess we can call it even then.”- Even though it cost you to say that in the end he deserved it. You knew what kind of business you were getting into , and even though he lied to you, he defended you like nobody would. But you still had it crystal clear that is he slipped up again , you would be a goner

His heart melted as those compassionate words left your mouth, he knew he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness. But as you indulged his sins he couldn’t help but love you more than yesterday. He knew he was in debt to you, and it just so happened that he was a man who liked to pay his dues, so he promised to himself that he wouldn’t let anyone including himself hurt you. Even if it meant following you around the world like a shadow, he was willing to make that “sacrifice”.

-“Well after hearing you say that; I guess I can sleep in peace tonight. Goodnight sweet thing.”-He voiced as he rubbed your cheek with his callous thumb.

As he turned to head to the door, your small hand pinched the back of his shirt to his attention. He swiftly turns around and he raises an eyebrow in a playful matter as he waits for you to voice out your need that stopped him from heading to his bedroom.

-“Can you stay here with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

*　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦

A/n: omg that was crazy , I tried to write this chapter as realistically as possible since I haven’t been in a gang fight yet but if I am I’ll confirm or deny the readers pov. I hope you guys enjoyed it and if you have any comments or request please let me know it really motivates me to hear back from you guys. Till next week kisses!! 💋🥰♥️ I’ll finish editing the font tomorrow it’s 3am as I’m writing this I’m so sleepy zzzz

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streamafterlaughter · 29 days ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain.

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you.

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car.

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door.

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope.

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it.

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?”

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders.

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you.

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl.

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!”

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself.

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four.

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?”

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

#st #fics #munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x oc!reader #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #slow burn #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #modern au #reader is not an elder emo per se... she's 23-24ish #stranger things

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spicyclover · 2 years ago

Text

At the nightclub

Summary: Recently single, you take advantage of the dance floor to find a partner for the night.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: Smut +18

It’s inspired by a TikTok I saw early today. You can get check it out. @f1povs_1 on TikTok, it's the story in red. :)

She’s at the club with a group of friends. Enjoying the nightlife of Monaco. She got in a fight with Lance, and it’s over. He broke up with her. She’s miserable, but her friends convinced her to come. Obviously, he has to be there with his friend and a few other drivers she has met several times.

She tries to enjoy her night with her girlfriends as much as possible but can feel his gaze on her. Every move, every word, every drink is analyzed by him. Often during the night, she got offered drinks by other guys, and the more she felt miserable, the more she needed to drink.

Her friends dragged her to the dance floor, and she spent the next hours dancing and rubbing herself against guys she had never met. Just enjoying her life. Eventually, she loses her friend in the crowd and ends up in the arms of Pierre Gasly, the Frenchman, the womanizer of formula one.

“Your hips are magic to my body,” he whispers in her ear, pulling her closer. “Y/n, right? We never really talk.”

“That’s true.” She says, rubbing herself even more toward him.

“I heard you and Lance broke up.”

“Also true.” She grins and pulls his hair, touching his skin freely as another song plays.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He whispers in her ear as their bodies are close, and his hands are on her lower back.

“Same to you, very handsome.”

They dance together for a while, getting closer and closer. She can “feel” him as they are literally rubbing each other at this point. It’s not even a dance; they are just trying to find some release.

“I always wanted to kiss you.” He mutters in her ear. She stops and grins.

“You should do it.” She teases him and turns around. Flashing her eyes in his.

He holds her butt and kisses her. She puts her arms around his neck and kisses him back passionately. Pulling her tongue in his mouth, making him groan.

“Whoah, now I know what Charles and Lance are discussing.” He laughs and kisses her again.

She ignores what Pierre just said and tries to have some fun.

Lance is watching her from afar, next to the bar. She makes eye contact and turns back to Pierre to kiss him. He puts his hand on your butt. He sees her and is about to get up from his chair when Charles beats him to it. He pulls her away from Pierre.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” She rolls her eyes, annoyed by him.

“I’m single. Let me have some fun.” She takes Pierre's hands and goes away.

Mick comes next to Esteban, who assists the whole interaction.

“Is it Y/n with Pierre?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yes... She wants to make him suffer.” He sighs and nods at Lance, furious in his chair.

“She still loves him...” Mick turns around and sees Lance running his fingers through his hair.”

She brings him back to her apartment.

“You live alone?” Pierre asks in the elevator, kissing her neck.

“Yeah,” she mutters between breaths.

“So, we have the apartment for ourselves” He grins, taking her out and getting to her door. “Am going to fuck you so right.”

Once the door opens, they enter, and Pierre does not hesitate to deepen the kisses because he knows these thoughts have consumed both of their bodies since they dance at the nightclub.

She leads into the bedroom, removing her dress while walking, making Pierre groans with pleasure. She smirks at him before turning entirely to him, and he can see the wetness between her legs. She sits on the edge of the bed, waiting for Pierre to come closer.

“Already wet, and we haven’t done anything yet.” He mutters

She doesn't respond to anything and grabs the hem of Pierre's shirt. Ripping off the buttons all at once. Pierre chuckles with amusement as her hands scramble to undo his trousers.

She pulls them down, and he steps out of it, groaning, feeling her breath close to his draft. Pierre’s pupils dilate with desire. Seeing her on her knees on the bed while he’s standing in from of her with all his might.

“His abs are fucking chocolate bar, perfectly designed.” She thinks getting flustered even more by him. The thought of Lance comes into her mind, and she pushes it away. It’s only her and her desire tonight. She wants Pierre, and he wants her.

She runs her tongue over his toned abs, licking his light, sweaty body. Her hand sliding under the band of his boxer, he tenses, and his length gets harder. She looks up at him, waiting for his approval to remove it.

He agrees. Not waiting any longer, she takes them off, kissing her way down. Pierre’s brain is clouded with pleasure, and all common sense no longer exists. “Putain, I’m fucking her so hard tonight.”

She slides her tongue over his tip, making him moan softly. Putting a hand on her head, he grabs a portion of her hair, pulling it slightly. Seeing him like it this much, she opens her lips wilder to take him. With one hand, she helps herself to suck his dick, moving it up and down in a steady motion, rubbing her tongue around it.

“Putain, t’es trop bonne.” He moans. You’re so fucking good.

She picks up the pace, and his moans become louder. She can feel his pre-cum in her mouth, tasting his dick even more.

“Keep... keep going,” he mumbles, pulling her hair to set a faster pace. “I’m close.”

She sucks and feels him release his seed without warning. Choking on it, he pulls her out, realizing his action. He mutters an apology before taking her in his arm. Trying to catch his breath after his first orgasm of the night. She keeps stroking his dick, keeping his limb hard.

“Lay down,” She orders him, finally catching her breath.

He lays down, looking at her, stripping out of the last clothes she has on. She straddles his hips, taking his hardening erection into her hands and aligns it with her entrance. As Pierre thrusts into her, she lets out a cry of Lance's name by accident. It echoes in the room, but Pierre doesn’t mind. He’s the one fucking her right now, making her moan and cum.

To apologize, she goes down on his neck, kissing him all the way. Leaving red marks on her way up to his lips. Groans leave Pierre's mouth as he throws his head back in pleasure. The realization that her wetness allows him to thrust in and out of her vigorously, and it’s enough for him to forgive her.

They find the perfect rhythm, rolling their hips and thrusts simultaneously and at the same pace. Making it easier for Pierre to find her G-spot. The first time he hits it, she cries out his name in his ear. Clawing on his shoulder with her nails. His own nails dug into her hips, probably leaving bruises tomorrow.

Pierre is not used to not being on top, making this new situation even more, sexier for him. Every thrust, every breath, every kiss makes him harder, and his member grows even further. Her walls quickly clenched around his dick. This whole new sensation causes her to race toward her orgasm.

She kisses him, biting his lip and feeling him twitch inside her. Pierre thrusts three powerful times, and he releases himself inside of her. She collapses on his chest, still feeling his penis flowing into her entrance. She rolls off him and gaps for her breath.

“I should do that earlier,” she says as Pierre her head down his chest.

“Well, you’re welcome in my bed anytime.” He winks at her.

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Cause of Action 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Mr. Barber –Andy– pulls into a spot along a street you recognise. You won’t voice why you find it familiar, that’s probably better left unsaid. Your nightlife is hardly relevant to a law office.

You get out and wait as he pays the parking pass kiosk and puts the slip in his windshield. He looks at his watch again. His apparent anxiety is adding to your own. You walk with him up the pavement and hesitate as he turns to cross. Oh, it can’t be.

You look up at the club’s marquee and repress any twitch of guilt. Of course you’d been there before, a couple times with friends, but you’re really not big on the scene. Still, you wonder what he would think.

It’s early. Door’s have yet to open but it doesn’t hinder him from walking along the brick front of the building and knocking on the double doors. You chew your lip. Your brain isn’t processing this properly. You have no idea what’s going on.

Andy looks at you and gives a rocky chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, “client is a friend of the owner.”

“Ah,” you give a short nod.

“Not really our typical meeting place but he’s hard to pin down,” Andy explains, “we shouldn’t be long.”

The door opens and you’re greeted by a man with an imperious curl to his lips. Sleek black hair combed back so the spiraled ends cluster behind his ears. Andy gives a tilt of his head.

“Uh, Laufeyson,” he points at him unsure, “I’m here for Hansen?”

“Ah, yes,” the man, Laufeyson lets out a long exhale, “I should charge him rent with how often he frequents. Come.”

He steps back and Andy catches the door, holding it for you until you precede him inside. The dark-haired man considers you with an air of discernment. You squirm as you glance around. This place looks a lot different with the lights on.

“Oh, this is my intern,” Andy supplies, “showing her the reins.”

“Hi,” you greet and offer your name. The man doesn’t acknowledge you.

“This is Loki, he owns the place.”

“Doors in an hour,” Laufeyson intones dismissively as he turns on his heel, “I’m certain you’ll find your way.”

Andy sniffs but says nothing. It isn’t until Loki is halfway up the stairs that he even moves. Andy shifts into motion, gesturing you into the main room of the club. He halts and looks around before pointing out another staircase; that one twisting and metal.

“I think it’s just up there,” he says as he continues forward and you scurry to keep up.

“So, uh, what kind of case exactly is this for?” You wonder as he stops at the bottom of the stairs and again waits for you to go first.

“Standard lawsuit. Employment contract breach. Hopefully, we can keep it to a deposition.”

“Mmm,” you hum thoughtfully, “is this the employee?”

“Employer,” Andy tuts, “burden of proof really isn’t on us, so there’s that.”

“Right,” you don’t head down the hall until Andy directs you onward to the door with a golden snake on it, “if he’s doing business here…”

You let the thought drift. It’s not really your place to say.

“You’re not wrong,” Andy says, “I’ve heard wild stories about this place.” He reaches past you and taps on the door with his knuckles, “an ex of mine, she apparently came here, liked to hook up with strange men…”

“Oh?” You blink but add no comment.

“Meanwhile, when I was married, my wife accused me of coming to places like this while I was working overtime to pay the mortgage,” he scoffs, “well, I guess that’s not important. Sorry. Just… this is weird.”

“A little,” you agree as his vocalisation of the fact eases the tension.

The door opens and you’re met by a man with a rather bristly accoutrement across his lip. You almost snort at the mustache but think better of it. It wouldn’t do well to mock this man’s fashion sense. He is a client after all and despite the venue, this is still a professional meeting.

“Barber,” the man greets as he leers down at you, giving a wink, “you brought some fun?”

“Hansen,” Andy growls back, a silty tone that makes you shiver, “my intern. Play nice.”

“Ah, I’m always nice,” he smooths a hand over his hair before offering it, “how are you, sunshine? Lloyd.”

“Um,” you reluctantly shake his hand and give your name, “I’m fine.”

“Fine, well, let’s fix that, come in,” he backs up and turns, strutting away in his tight white pants and shimmery satin shirt. He isn’t really dressed for business. “Barber, you hound, you finally got me. You better make it fast.”

He grabs a bottle and pops the top, “you know, I have a long night ahead of me.”

“I told you I had noon free–”

“Noon? I was still waking the snake–”

“Hey, cut it out,” Andy warns.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd looks at you with a smirk, “she looks old enough–”

“She’s not here for that. So let’s get to it. I need the records of employment. What you sent me is a cocktail napkin and a snapchat conversation. That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Oh really? Like I said, it wasn’t really a contract. Not in the way she’s saying. Bimbo,” he scoffs as he pours a shot, then another, “it’s simple, there is no case.”

“If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Lloyd nears and offers one of the glasses. Andy sighs and stretches an arm in front of you to block the other man, “what are you doing?”

“You got this sweet little piece working late. I’m just tryna make it worth her time. You seem like the stingy type,” Lloyd sneers, “one shot won’t hurt.”

“She’s on the clock.”

Lloyd’s brows rise and he snorts. He doesn’t say whatever thought dimples in his cheek.

“Loosen up, you want some? I can get some scotch up here, old man.”

“I drove.”

“Uber,” Lloyd insists, “don’t be a fucking cock block.”

He elbows past Andy and presents you the shot, “there ya go, sweet heart. The good stuff. Top shelf. Whatever he pays you isn’t enough to get you a single ounce.”

You stare at the shot, then Andy. You know you shouldn’t and you really don’t want to drink. You tend to stick to a single drink on your nights out and dilute it with as much water as you can get.

“Um, thanks, but–”

“But nothing. Don’t let the geezer get you down.” He holds the shot almost in your face, “take it, sweet pea. Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

Andy nudges you gently, “it’s fine,” he grumbles under his breath as he takes out his phone, “I’m not leaving until I have something, Hansen.”

“You know what, I’ll give you better than hard evidence, something even harder,” Lloyd snickers as you take the shot but make no move to drink.

Andy backs off, rubbing his cheek as he turns his back to you. He’s angry. You can tell. You’re starting to wonder why he even brought you if he knew this man was like this. Maybe it’s good to get a taste of the difficult ones.

“Cheers, baby,” Lloyd clinks his shot glass against yours, “bottoms up.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #drabble #series #au #the club #cause of action

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ellisgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Ellis Twilight — Villain’s Night Story Event

Chapter 2

I do not own any contents of Ikemen Villains. This story being uploaded in this blog belongs solely to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading their games and buying their stories. Both English and Japanese are not my mother tongue languages, please keep in mind that there will be mistakes and added words for my own preferences. I translate for my personal entertainment and for my own practice only.

The sun has just started to tilt, and it seems that there will still be time before the moon appears.

Ellis: “Miss Kate, are you leaving now? Or do you want to go to the tavern with me?”

Kate: "It's not fair to ask like that, Ellis...”

Ellis: “Fufu, sorry. ......Well then, let's just drop in for a bit and get home before the full moon comes out.”

Kate: "Yes! I agree."

Once seated, the owners serve us a succession of dishes and drinks to entertain us.

All of them were exquisite—we didn't realise that it started to get dark outside.

Bar customer: "Happy Halloween! *Hiccup* Another round please, Master."

(Somehow more people are getting drunk. .......Ah!)

When I looked out the window, it was completely dark outside.

— Flash back begins —

Victor: “You never know what's going to happen. You have to be back before the moon rises in the sky.”

— Flash back ends —

(...Ah, What should I do!)

Kate: "Ellis. The full moon is.......”

Ellis: “.......Yeah?”

Ellis sitting next to me doesn't seem to have changed anything from usual.

(......Still, it's better not to stay too long)

Kate: “It's time to go home. Victor said so, and...”

When I was about to stand up, Ellis slipped his arm and hugged around my waist.

Kate: “Ellis?”

Ellis: "......I don't want to go home yet."

Kate: “B-But”

Ellis: “Aaah. .....Maybe I didn't say it right."

Ellis: "Miss Kate. ...I don't want you to go home yet."

Ellis: “…..Don’t go home, okay?”

(......The usual Ellis and the atmosphere are....different?)

(Uh, no, maybe he's just drunk.)

I stare at Ellis seriously, but he doesn't look like he's drunk at all.

(…..By any chance)

(So, sins really are worsened due to the power of the full moon?)

Ellis: "....Miss Kate, the 'Night of the Moonbeams' really did happen."

Muttering as if to answer my question, Ellis rested his head on my shoulder as he sat next to me.

Ellis: “My mind has been buzzing since a while ago... It's like my rational mind is melting away.”

Kate: “Rational…..?”

Ellis: “......Yeah. So, can you stay with me a bit longer?"

His head is rubbed against the nape of my neck, and my heart jumps.

Ellis: "...You don't want to?"

Kate: "T-That's... But I have to go home—“

I had to tell him that I don’t want to and we’re going home, I thought so.

(Really? Do I really hate it?)

(.....It’s different. It's not that I don't like it. Rather..... I'm kind of happy about it.)

(Ellis, who doesn't always say he's selfish, is now able to say how selfish he is.)

Ellis: “Miss Kate, you're so easy to understand and so cute.”

Ellis: “That face. .....You don't hate me, do you?"

Kate: "Eh, ah........"

Ellis: "If that's the case......"

He hugs me around the waist even more and creaks into my face.

Ellis: “...Just look at me, Miss Kate.”

Kate: “…………..Ellis”

Ellis: “It is forbidden to think about anyone else but me.”

Kate: “Uh, if you're this close, all I can think about is you..... I can't think of anything else."

Ellis: "......Yeah, did that on purpose."

It's not uncommon for Ellis to make me nervous.

(Tsk, he’s now even worse for my heart than he usually is!)

But I was still happy to be told to be selfish by Ellis.

(My body doesn't seem to be in pain... It's okay if it's just a little bit more, right?)

…

After we leave the bar, Ellis remains snugly attached to me.

(...Our hands are tied together all the time.)

His hand was entwined around my fingers like thorns.

It's as if he won't allow you to go anywhere.

Ellis: ".....It's more lively than during the day."

Kate: “Ah, yes. This area of the city is a nightlife area every year—“

As if to interrupt the words I was about to say, the sound of cutting through the sky echos—

A large flower bloomed in the night sky.

Ellis: ".....Wow"

Kate: “Every year, there's a fireworks display.”

Ellis: "......That's right. .....I wonder why, I forgot."

We are speechless and are fascinated by the fireworks that colour our eyes.

When I look up, I feel as if I'm bathed in a grain of light with my whole body.

(......I don't think I've ever looked up at fireworks this slowly before.)

The fantastic scenery seems to gently make me forget about the tiredness and anxiety that accumulates every day.

Kate: "...........It's beautiful."

Ellis: “…………” :)

Kate: "When I see beautiful things, I wish time would stop like this."

Ellis: "Stop time........?”

Kate: “...Yes. I wish it could be forever.”

Kate: “But maybe it's beautiful because it's not eternal.”

Ellis: “……..Hm”

In an instant, I was pulled closer to our connected hands.

It was so forceful that I cannot believe that it was from Ellis until now.

Ellis: ".....Miss Kate, over here."

Kate: “…..Ellis?”

When we got into a carriage parked nearby, Ellis slammed the door shut.

The coarse gestures were different from those of usual Ellis, who was always gentle.

Kate: “What’s wrong, all of a sudden?”

Ellis sat down next to me and put his hand on the side of my face to stop me going anywhere.

Ellis: "I wish time would stop."

Ellis: "When I was looking at you laughing saying that..... My heart is buzzing again."

Ellis: “I need to make you mine and mine alone as soon as possible."

Kate: “.....Your own......as your thing?"

Ellis: “…..Yeah" :D

Ellis: “Miss Kate, I've been wanting to make you…..my own."

Kate: “…..Um”

Ellis smiles as if there is a gaping black hole in his face.

When I couldn't respond with any words to his unusual smile, Ellis blinked at me.

Ellis: “……….Uh” :0

Ellis: “That's wrong... What am I even doing….?” :(

Ellis: “I’m sorry, Miss Kate... I didn't mean to do this."

In order to regain his reason, Ellis shakes his head to the side many times.

Ellis: “I took the liberty of not listening to your feelings.... My apologies."

(...As expected, ‘Night of the Moonbeams’ is driving him crazy.)

(I'm sure that even now you're in pain, but you're doing your best not to scare me…)

Kate: “Don't apologise. Besides, it's not for you to worry about, Ellis."

Kate: "Because this is because of ‘Moonbeams Night’, isn't it?"

Ellis: "......That's true. ...But."

His gaze turns to the moon that floats in the distance outside the window.

Ellis: ".....I wonder if everyone in the crown is also suffering now?"

Ellis: "This kind of thing... No one is happy, right?"

The edge of my heart aches at his words of concern for everyone.

(.....I'm so sorry I thought you'd be happy to be selfish.)

"Night of the Moonbeams" is not just something that happened this time, but something that could happen in the future.

(In that case—)

Kate: “Ellis, would you like to find out if there is any way to control this phenomenon?”

Kate: “Then maybe it would be easier for everyone in the Crown.”

Ellis: “…..Miss Kate”

Ellis: "......Yeah, thank you." :D

(That’s a relief. He finally smiles.)

(…..But)

Kate: "Where and how should I look it up…?”

Ellis: “I've heard that moon flowers grow wild on the castle grounds.”

Ellis: 'If you go there...... You might learn something.”

Kate: “On the castle grounds. Let's go."

Going there may not solve anything.

Still, neither I nor Ellis could just wait for the dawn.

…

Ellis: ".....I'm sure it's this way. Miss Kate, be careful of your feet."

Kate: "Yes, you too, be careful."

Going around the back of the castle and going deeper—

…

Kate: "Wow........”

Moon flowers were growing wild, entwined around arched trellis.

(..........They're so beautiful it's horrifying.)

The flowers that bloom in the light of the full moon are so beautiful that I even feel scared.

I thought it was because of the moon that the power of the curse was getting stronger.

(I wonder if this flower has something to do with it…..)

At that moment, the body of Ellis, who was standing next to me, tilted unsteadily—

Ellis: “…..Uh”

Kate: “Ellis?”

Masterlist

Chapter 1 >> Chapter 2 >> Premium End >> Epilogue

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen series #ellis twilight #ikevil ellis #ikemen games #ikemen villains story event #ikevil translations

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dsgirl2024 · 10 months ago

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The World You See | Prologue | Hoseok | BTS OT7 x Reader Fanfiction

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CONTENT WARNING

This story has explicit descriptions of death, drug use, alcohol use, addiction, sex, language, mental illness, suicide, and other possibly triggering content.

If this will effect your well being in ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ABOUT

Genre ☆ Fantasy / Romance (Fanfiction)

Rating ☆ Mature (18+ Minors DNI)

Pairing ☆ BTS OT7 x Reader

Story Type ☆ Angel BTS (AU)

SUMMARY

You've always seen the world a bit differently than others. It was like your magic power. And maybe that was why only you could see the lights that night. The big, astronomical explosion of lights that rained down to earth in colors you had never known to have existed until now. Little did you know about a divine destiny beyond your wildest dreams, and seven angelic beings brought down from heaven to guide you.

Apparently, the world is ending, and they're convinced that you're the one to save it. All you have to do, is figure out how.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Seoul was extraordinarily cold for an early-spring night.

A bitter sort of chill, one that called for sweaters, hats and for some, a warm coat. The perfect type of night to stay in doors, safe and cozy, curling up on the couch with a steaming cup of tea. A great book in hand, or perhaps a Netflix session to start off a weekend binge.

At least, that appealed to some people.

For others, it was never too cold to live it up--throw on a cute fit and assemble the squad. No matter how low the temperature dropped, the active city at no time neglected a vibrant nightlife. Neon lights illuminated the ground, bleeding saturated colors, and the black pavement glittered as club-goers and bar-hoppers bustled from place to place.

Just as those whom braved the weather, stilettos clacking and hair done-up, someone else had been promised a good time that night.

The time of his life.

One of grandeur and refinement, at the top of the classiest hotel. Where old money mingled with new money, striking deals as they utilized charisma like a weapon--guns loaded, waiting for the right moment to strike. Not ever really enjoying the company of each other, though feigning pleasantries for the sake of the game. The salacious game of shameless business, be it for power, money or love.

And tonight, many had gathered to play. Dressed in the finest attire, their sparkling bodies circled and flirted, sipping on champagne with painted lips and fake smiles. Dazzling, beautiful people, fat with riches, Botox and high societal respect. The creme-de-la-creme.

How ignorant they were.

How oblivious.

Such egocentric, vapid humans, so self involved that they'd hardly noticed the absence of the man whom they came for in the first place.

This was his night. His party. Recognition for all the sweat and tears he'd spilled vying for a spot within their good graces. Validation, that his professional enslavement was all gearing for a brighter future. Oh, the butts he kissed, the demands he dealt with.

The sacrifices he made.

He should be drunk as fuck, enjoying the food, befriending the one percent, charming some women and busting out his sick dance moves. His time had come.He'd finally made it.

So why?

Why, instead, did Jung Hoseok find the tops of his leather-shoed feet dangled off the hotel roof, dangerously toying with a fatal descent?

More importantly, why did he look so...

broken?

Tears streaming, wet and snotty, the tall, elegant man appeared as if the seams to his existence had torn apart. Like his insides were barely contained, spilling from all sides, as he clutched his rib cage desperately. Sniffing, chocking down sobs.

The icy winds whipped violently, staining his skin with raw, pink stripes and the coattails of his black Armani tux flapped like flags at mast.

'Ding' A chime alerted from his suit pocket.

Hoseok's weight teetered unsteadily, grimacing, the sound clearly distraught him. "You've won!" He thought, "Just leave me alone!"

'Ding, ding' It chimed again. Determined.

Hoseok swallowed thickly.

Fishing around in his tux, the man pulled out his phone and looked down at the Kakao Talk ID that popped up on the screen. JustYourPrince had sent him a new attachment. His heart dropped, anxious as he opened it, eyes swiping the image with speed. A strangled groan ripped from his throat.

It was a picture of a blind-folded woman. She was tied up and gagged with a gun pointed at her temple. Her long, black locks abnormally messed, and it had been clear by her bloodied lip that she'd put up a fight. Tears of recognition welled in Hoseok's eyes.

'Tick, tock.' The message below spelled out.

An anguished look distorted delicate features, as Hoseok threw his head to the sky, searching for a sign, praying that God had a sick sense of humor. This wasn't really happening. This couldn't actually be happening.

Not to him.

Not to her.

'Ding'

"I can't take it anymore! Ok? I'll do it! I'll do it, I said! So please, just stop!"

The man didn't want to jump.

He had to jump.

That is to say, there didn't seem to be an alternative option. If Hoseok didn't do what they'd asked, she was going to pay the price for it.

'Friday at midnight. If you don't do it by then, she'll suffer the consequences of your actions, Mr. Jung.' That's what they told him.

It was Friday.

Time was running out.

Looking down, the man's stomach lurched. Woozy from the vertigo, he blinked through the blur, palms sweaty, nails digging, as he gauged the height of the drop. Must be at least twenty stories. The hundreds of bodies below resembled dots amidst the glow of building lights. For a moment, he envied those dots. So insignificant--free to exist in peace, camouflaged by the vastness of society.

'Dong--' 'Dong--' rang the clock-tower bells a few blocks over, a final countdown initiating.

11:59 p.m.

A singular tear dripped off his nose and fell to the streets below. Hoseok sucked in a breath as he watched it vanish from sight, holding in air then relinquishing it all at once. Trembling.

Anticipating.

Wondering, how everything spun so far out of control? It wasn't supposed to be like this. The man's life was in mere adolescence, opportunities just started knocking at his door. He'd worked so hard fortoo long, only to at last receive his reward--and now that reward was being snatched from his grasp. Cruelly. Evilly. The sweet taste of success, drowned by the bitterness of his misfortune.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all, but Hoseok couldn't let her suffer. Not for something that was his responsibility in the first place. He refused to allow another person he loved foot his bill, because the last time, it had ended badly. No one was meant to get hurt, but a dangerous game had been played--against an even more formidable foe. One whom he'd sorely miscalculated, and that had been his first grave mistake.

'Dong--'

His second was his naivety.

'Dong--'

His third was his negligence.

'Dong--'

Maybe this was karma--

'Dong--'

--reaping what he sowed.

'Dong--'

As the last bell tolled, Hoseok shut his eyes tight, collecting his wits. Carefully, he turned his back from the ledge, unwilling to witness full force his death to the ground beneath. He'd rather face the sky, instead. That way, he'd be less afraid.

The wind shoved at his chest, demanding and hostile, as if it'd grown impatient, reminding the man of the urgency.

'At midnight.' It whispered.'Tick, tok.'

Hoseok told the wind to kindly, fuck off.

Let him go on his own terms.

Let him go with dignity.

Composed.

Mind clear.

Deep breath.

And then he went, tipping himself over the ledge.

Air rushed his descending person, as gravity dragged him down. Faster and faster, the feeling unlike any he'd experienced before. Adrenaline juiced through his veins like a drug, blood pumping at a frightening speed. It was almost... exciting--fun even, if not for the end Hoseok knew awaited him.

Soon, he would be nothing more than a splattered lump on concrete. An eyesore for pedestrians, and a burden for the poor soul tasked with scrapping his guts off the sidewalk. It'd be quick, though, he was thankful for that.

At least this way, he could free himself.

Free them both.

The thought brought him some comfort.

Then, out of nowhere, a blinding light intrigued Hoseok's eyes to open. He gasped, enthralled by what he saw. Beautiful and terrifying all at once, the indescribable hues of colors gave chase to his falling form. Illuminated beams extended out, weaving and streaking the stratosphere like arms to catch him before he hit the ground below.

Stretching out as far as he could, Hoseok yearned to touch it, curious to learn its texture. Time seemed to slow. Dark hair kissed his cheeks gently, fluttering, as he wondered what something so pretty even felt like? Was it cold? Or did it burn? Sting? Tingle? Drench?

Since he was going to die regardless, it'd be nice to die knowing something like that. Maybe then, the idea of his life cut short wouldn't be so bad, so tragic.

Maybe then, he'd have some hope.

As though his request had been heard, the light sped faster, until suddenly his fingertips grazed the surface. Sizzling. An electrifying current blew through his veins, hot and freezing all at the same time. Flesh quivering, pleasured by the exotic sensation, Hoseok's lips parted in a blissful grin.

Because now he knew.

He knew everything.

Completely at peace and with an accepting look in his eye, the man gave himself over to the light. Permitting his body to be consumed within its glow, before he came crashing down on the sidewalk beneath.

The midnight bell concluded, marking the arrival of a new day. 0:00 a.m.

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PLEASE MAKE SURE TO LEAVE A NOTE & FOLLOW

Every ☆ lets me know you enjoy my story, and encourages me to continue writing! So please don't forget to send a little love my way! Thank you so much for reading, and I will see you all in the next chapter!

Read on WATTPAD

Story Updates ☆Tuesday, Friday or Saturday (2:00-7:00pm EST)

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encrucijada · 1 year ago

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BABYLON BOY & GOSSAMER GIRL by pía & teddy

♡ genre & categroy: literary fiction, adult

♡ pov: dual 3rd person

♡ teddy and i revisited the beginnings of mari & theo and came out of it with a rewrite of their first story that reclaimed its place as their real canon??, duology + all the novellas we want, alliteration galore, sometimes all you need is a personal project with your qpp

♡ a reminder that teddy is @teddywriting

♡ cw: drug addiction, child neglect, homelessness, imperfect recovery, unmedicated mental illness

♡ themes: second opportunities, self-love, family both chosen and born, gentleness, what if choosing to live your life was an option

a b o u t :

babylon boy - circa late 00s. theo and maripaz find each other while searching for meaning, but they're not quite the answer they were looking for. having independently run away from home they are focused on survival. maripaz left behind a family with more kids her parents knew what to do with and a boyfriend she never really liked. theo cut his family's losses and he hopes eventually they will stop missing him, his problems are his own. survival leads to companionship leads to friendship leads to i would be really bummed if you ever parted from me. there is no future as they hop from place to place, shoplift, and try to have a night of rest, there is only today and maybe tomorrow. gossamer girl - circa early 10s. the most earth shattering things still happen walking down the street or in the store.

in other words: a story told in two parts (plus a few others) about maripaz and theo—who ran away from home to spare their families the trouble. maripaz was only taking up space in her house and theo definitely does not have a drug addiction problem. they meet when theo helps maripaz shoplift from a grocery store and he steals one of the two necklaces she brought with her, this one with an angel charm (this is important). teddy is writing the theo pov and i am writing the mari pov and they go back and forth throughout.

c h a r a c t e r s :

maría paz "maripaz" vega. would rather die than ever express a want or need. should be dancing to abba at a discotheque. loves valentine's day themed stuff unironically. sixth daughter of eight kids. audhd. constantly interrupting her narration with snippets of the past. wants love to fix her so so bad. i think that i'm not who you think i am / but i like to be seen and i like to be wanted [better than this - lizzy mcalpine].

theodore "theo" rayes. hasn't had a problem ever his brain is so normal promise. should be doing silly tricks at the skate park. smartest stupidest pretty boy you'll ever meet. twin brother (older). autistic. constantly interrupting his narration with daydreams of the future. has these drugs under control (trust me). medicate, meditate, save your soul for jesus / throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason [call your mum - noah kahan].

the actual plot is less important than these two's emotional journeys. the conflict comes from... why isn't how much i love you enough to make everything right? what if you wanted someone to choose you and mean it. what if you wanted to be someone people can rely on. what if we were what the other person is looking for but where we're at right now is making it so hard but here we are, we are staying.

aesthetic: the changing lights of a carnival ferris wheel, tongues coloured from candy, heart-shaped sunglasses, intertwined fingers, the murmur of the ocean tide, fine white sand, pink and orange sunsets, hands sticky from melting ice cream, light refracted on a suncatcher, cramped secondhand bookstores, the buzz of fluorescent lights in a hospital waiting room, freckle-covered cheeks, the heads of strawberries, nightlife lights refracted on wet pavement, a necklace you never take off, rhinestone decorated flip phones, a steady heartbeat, graffities that scream for something more, homemade plastic jewellery, the light behind your head looks like a halo, tangled bedsheets, soft music at the grocery store, the cold of the frozen aisle, photographs from disposable cameras, porcelain angels

snippet for you:

Watermelon in triangles.

“That one’s mine.” Carla had grabbed one of the soup bowls, then the watermelon Maripaz had picked, and another one. Juan Pa had left then unattended after calling up the stairs if anyone wanted any.

“Girls,” Mum called from the living room, her telenovela was so loud Maripaz had been able to hear it from the second floor. Bringing herself to do homework before dark was hard enough. “No fighting, please. I don’t want to deal with this.”

Carla had watermelon juice, a single drop of it, rolling down her chin. “Don’t make a scene. It’s just fucking watermelon, just grab another one.”

Maripaz made a scene.

The soup bowl broke into six separate pieces when it crashed on the floor. Carla screamed, not from pain, but indignation and anger. She shoved Maripaz so hard she knocked over one of the kitchen table chairs.

“Girls! Por el amor de Dios, not one second of peace in this house.”

the universe as a whole has been baptised as HOME HABITAT. but you will see this tagged as #bb&gg, as well as any variation of #maripaz&theo. teddy and i have at least 2 novellas planned to bridge the gap between babylon boy and gossamer girl, and one prequel about maripaz's oldest sister. but more on that some other time!

#okay take this before i change my mind about posting it!!!#pia.docx #( wip ) bb&gg #( misc ) maripaz & theo #wip intro

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valkyrievega · 6 months ago

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Valkyrievega's Writing Masterlist

I figured I should put everything in one place, at the very least! Everything goes to ao3; same username over there, if that's how people prefer navigating :)

Following Fandomss are under the keep reading:

No Country For Old Men, Ranfren, Skyfall, and Dune (admittedly Dune is a singular work so far), Arcane

Side note: it would be far too long a post to put the actual summary of each on them; so I've just put tiny descriptions instead.

Arcane

Short fics/ oneshots:

Spark

Sevika becomes your (only) client at the brothel. Sapphic yearning ensues. Also it's 54k

After a long day

Sevika lets off some steam

Settle Down

Sevika comes home to find you didn't go to bed when you should have.

Dune

oneshots:

Holy Water (and how to find it)

You and Stilgar hatch a plan; and you receive your payment.

Skyfall

oneshots:

Rabbithole

Silva cyber-stalks you, and you really, truly don't notice.

Just Follow Along

Silva 'helps' you plan your escape from his headquarters

Ranfren

Long Fics:

Cat Dragged In (in progress)

The Ivory household gains a new pet; and she sure does question the status quo.

Short Fics/oneshots:

It Needs Doing.

Luther's had more than enough; and she recognizes it.

Crossover fic:

Stress relief

Luther's capital S Scheming allows the house a good opportunity for, well. Some stress relief. (It's you. You're the stress relief.)

No Country For Old Men

(this is about to get embarrassing- everyone look away)

Long Fics:

Out Of Country (completed)

Set 5 years after the events of No Country; Anton is tasked with a pick up.

The Old Ways (In progress)

What if the way Anton presents himself is from a different cause? (I.e. A/B/O re-imagining; a pretty feel-good story in comparison to other long fics I have)

Moby Dick (completed)

"Can you feel it when someone else is watching you? A lot of people thought so.” - Cormack McCarthy, No Country For Old Men.

(or: Anton is 30% crazier, and it's doomed from the start. Dead Dove Do Not Eat and severe content warnings.)

Short fics/oneshots:

Let Me Keep the Colour

A slice of nightlife, from someone who's struck a deal with Anton.

By the Lamplight (AFAB only - AMAB chapter potentially coming?)

He breaks into your hotel room.

By the Streetlamps (AFAB only- AMAB chapter potentially coming?)

Direct sequel, thematically, to By the Lamplight. You get him back.

See no Evil (AFAB only- AMAB chapters potentially coming on request)

Can you witness something, when you're blind?

Careful, He Bites.

The cat and mouse chase scene from the book goes very differently. (i.e. Llewelyn isn't an idiot)

Rocking the Boat

Anton fixes the local siren problem.

Stay in the Dark (3 chapters, completed)

Anton takes advantage of a vulnerable position. He sees her having got out of one impossible situation; and wants her to try her hands at another.

Heel.

Association is a hell of a thing (and so is the way Anton views other people).

In Front of the Fire (please, can't I come in?)

He keeps you out while it's snowing. How rude.

In For a Twig, In For a Switch.

Anton uses a good excuse to scare you. And then some.

Happy Holidays to You.

Anton comes home for Christmas.

Meet Me in the Hallway.

(Older) Anton teaches evolutionary psychology at university; and more besides.

When the Wolf Comes Home

Some hurt and comfort with a werewolf Anton

Trouble in Paradise

He turns up at the doorstep of his ex-wife. Perfect.

Crossing the Threshold

A night in the life, roughly a year after the events of Meet Me In The Hallway. (or: profton two electric boogaloo)

Beggars Can't Choose at all.

Anton fucked up. You deal with it.

Scratching at the Glass

Hybrid Anton won't leave you alone. Why is that? (Catton timeeeeee we all go crazy for him)

Kinktober 2024 (Antober)

There are many prompts. There are many fics. All are, in my opinion, good, especially if you actually enjoy the kink/prompt listed. There is also occasionally gross things, because I think (correctly) Anton is a freak.

#my writing #masterpost #no country for old men #ranfren #skyfall #dune #please no one interact with this embarrassing ass post thanks ToT i just wanted to have it to pin so it's easier for everyone thats all #arcane #sevika #because . sorry . she's the only character i'm writing for

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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My Beloved Nymph (6)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: smut, sex content, kissing, so much fluff]

[description: Aemond is the owner of the club, his girlfriend is the younger sister of his business partner. This story is a continuation of the series "My Best Friend", which you can read here: Part 1. This story can be read on its own. Aemond has serious intentions for his girlfriend and is slowly putting them into practice.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Aemond and Y/N were returning from the concert in high spirits. They were both drunk. They held hands lightly, talking about what they had seen, how impressed they were by the spectacle. Aemond would never have guessed two years earlier that he would be in a relationship with her, much less that he would go with her to a metal band concert. The sight of her joy and the fact that his surprises gave her great pleasure gave him comfort and the feeling that he knew how to make her happy.

They walked through the narrow streets, pubs and shops were open all around, the nightlife flowed around them. Aemond fixed his already slightly drunken gaze on one of the children's vending machines in front of one of the stores. In small egg-shaped containers, there were children's rings with various motifs. Without thinking, he approached them, searching his pockets for some coins. Y/N laughed at the sight.

"What are you doing?" She asked, standing next to him, but he didn't answer her. He threw in a few coins and pressed a button, a random egg fell out of the machine. Aemond opened it, inside it was a ring, a daisy symbol stuck in the middle instead of a stone. He thought fondly, that these were the flowers on the pattern of her dress that she wore the first time they kissed.

He looked at her and knelt in front of her, only on both knees instead of one, feeling that otherwise he might have fallen over.

"Marry me." He said looking down at her, it was more of a statement than a question. Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, amused, trying to stifle laughter and affection.

"Are you proposing to me?" She asked amused, her eyes shining with pure happiness at this absurd sight. Aemond sighed and pressed his face against her belly, the passers-by staring at them in surprise. Y/N tried her best not to laugh and ignore them, stroking his hair gently.

"Yes." He mumbled. "I want you to accept this flower ring and be my wife."

Y/N pursed her lips into a wide smile and leaned in, kissing the top of his head.

"I agree."

***

Y/N sometimes wondered if Aemond would propose to her. She took her time and was very happy with him, but they never discussed their future in detail, as if they were both afraid it might destroy what they already had. Y/N had always known she wanted to get married, but her relationship with Aemond had convinced her that if he didn't want it, she would get through it somehow. What he did surprised her even more.

She wondered if a drunken proposal counted, but she didn't want to spoil the moment and just agreed. She was amused to find, that what he had done touched her to the core and made her feel that she loved him even more. The fact that he could be more and more surprising around her and quick to make sudden gestures made her hot.

Unfortunately, the children's ring turned out to be too small for the finger on which she should wear it, but not discouraged, she put it on her little finger. Aemond, saddened, said that it was only a temporary ring and that he was sorry, but she closed his mouth with a hot kiss, which he accepted with a grunt.

They reached the apartment when it was very late at night. They took off their shoes and looked at each other expectantly. There was tension between them, both of them had been thinking about what they would do at night since morning and looking forward to it.

Y/N swallowed softly as she saw her fiancé slowly walking towards her, smiling cheekily. He removed the blindfold from his eye with a light movement, throwing it to the ground. He took her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers tenderly and gently. His subtlety surprised her and she gave herself completely to him.

"Don't be brutal today." She spoke softly, and he shuddered at her words. She wanted their closeness today, now, to be as tender as possible. Sometimes she liked it when their sex was rough and animalistic, sometimes she needed it and begged him for it. Today, however, she wanted to enjoy their closeness and his touch.

"All right." He whispered just as softly, kissing her neck gently, his hands pulling her T-shirt out of her pants and gently pulling it off her over her head. He grunted in satisfaction, seeing that she was wearing nothing underneath.

"I see I haven't taught you anything." He murmured, teasing her nipple with his thumb, feeling shivers run through her body as her hands tightened in his hair. "What a pity." He whispered and ran his tongue over her neck, and she moaned loudly, pressing him tighter against her. He grabbed her by the hips and carried her to the bed, placing her on the sheets.

Y/N lay half naked watching him undress. His eye was still roaming between her face and her breasts, all black with lust. She swallowed hard at the sight, feeling the wetness between her thighs.

Aemond stayed in his pants and climbed onto the bed, leaning over her. His hair gently teased her cheeks. He leaned lower, closer to her face. He pushed his tongue slowly into her mouth, and she did the same. At one point only their tongues were touching, dancing wetly around each other and licking each other, both of them shivering at the sensation. He leaned down to her breasts, and she gasped in delight as his tongue touched one of her nipples.

"My fiancée really likes to show her breasts to the world, doesn't she?" He asked, a note of discontent in his voice as his tongue left circular marks around her nipple. She gasped at his words, embarrassed.

"You know they're only yours." She whispered softly, knowing it was true and that was what he wanted to hear. He grunted in contentment and took her entire breast into his mouth as she threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hands stroked his hair and pressed him closer, wanting to prolong this wonderful caress.

"Oh, yes, Aemond" She moaned softly, his touch and the tenderness with which he handled her made her dizzy, her body burning hot. Aemond broke away from her and straddled her, slowly undoing her pants. He slid them off her along with her panties, and there she was, completely naked before him. He stared at her for a moment, as if to enjoy the sight.

"My nymph." He whispered more to himself than to her as he unbuckled the belt of his pants. They both looked at each other with a desire that could burn. She felt that despite all the gentleness he showed her, there was something dangerous about him that turned her on incredibly every time. She felt the wetness between her thighs drip onto the quilt before his eye. His eye darkened at the sight.

"What turns you on so much that you're all wet already? Hm?” He asked low, there was a hint of darkness in his voice. She swallowed silently at this question and shivered all over.

"You." She said softly.

Aemond tapped his cheek with his tongue, looking down at her intrigued. One of his hands slowly roamed the inside of her thigh, teasing her but not touching her where she wanted.

"What exactly?" He kept asking, obviously not satisfied with her answer. Y/N blushed all over, but she knew that if she didn't answer him, he would torment her all night before she was fulfilled. She pursed her lips, searching her mind for the right words to express what she was feeling.

"The way you look at me. As if you were going to devour me. Your low voice gives me goosebumps." She whispered softly, excited by her own words spoken aloud. She saw his mouth tighten at her words, he swallowed hard. Encouraged, she continued.

"Your hair and your muscular body. When we shower together you look like a demigod." She said softly and saw a huge shiver run through him. She moaned in surprise as his thumb brushed her entrance, circulating her fluids, massaging her clit gently.

"Continue." He spoke low and throaty, she had never seen him like this before. The steady touch of his hand between her thighs made it hard for her to concentrate. She inhaled softly, feeling her throat go dry, her whole body throbbing under his touch. Her hips moved slightly in time with his movements, trying to find at least a little more pressure.

"Your hands. They're so big and warm, a little rough. I love it when you touch me with them down there. When…” She stopped and moaned as he slid his finger inside her with ease.

He slid it in and out of her, all drenched in her juices, pressing down on her upper wall where she always experienced the greatest pleasure. Her thighs moved greedily to the rhythm of his movements. "Aemond, please, put him inside me already." She moaned pleadingly, looking up at him with her big, misty eyes.

"Continue." He said, looking at her mercilessly, his mouth slightly parted. She moaned helplessly, her hands clasping the sides of her head against the quilt, straining so that his finger brushed where she wanted it most. She could feel the heat building slowly in her lower abdomen.

“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you in our house. I thought I had never seen a handsomer man." She sputtered, all red at the confession she thought she would never admit to him. But now that he was tormenting her like this, she wanted him to know, to break him so he would give her what she needed.

She heard his soft, low moan in response to her words. He pulled his finger out of her, and she moaned softly as she saw him undress in a hurry. Her words obviously made him over the edge.

He didn't even have to tell her to spread her thighs, she did as soon as he lay down on her. He threaded one hand into her hair and the other grabbed her thigh and entered her in one firm motion. They both moaned loudly, closing their eyes, finally feeling the longed-for closeness. Aemond moaned helplessly, feeling her walls pulsing around him, making her even tighter than usual.

"Stop clenching." He said helplessly, trying his best not to come inside her yet.

"I don't." She gasped practically in pain, she needed him to start moving inside her already.

Aemond exhaled loudly, burying his face in her neck.

"Do not move." He said low, trying to calm himself down. The two of them lay there together, the only sound being their rapid breathing. They both felt their hearts pounding. Y/N fought with all her might not to start moving her thighs.

She moaned in pleasure and relief as she felt him pull out of her and slide back in. He did it slowly and carefully, as if with every movement he wanted to prove to himself and her who her body belonged to. He wasn't brutal as she had asked, trying to enjoy this painfully slow act with all his might. He took wild pleasure in the thought that he had all night to drive her crazy and make her scream his name.

What she told him drove him to the brink of despair. He guessed from the way she reacted to him and how she craved sex, that she liked him and that he turned her on. What he didn't know was that she thought and saw him that way. That she noticed him the first time he showed up at her house. He thrusted into her harder at the thought, and she moaned loudly, throwing her head back.

"Please, yes, just like that" She moaned pleadingly, and he couldn't refuse her anymore. He entered her with a firm, steady rhythm, making them both gasp with pleasure.

His cock rubbed against her exactly where she wanted it, entering her all the way, filling her completely. They stared at each other with their mouths slightly parted. Y/N reached out to him and stroked his cheek.

He shivered as he moaned loudly and began to thrust her harder, accelerating, Y/N moaning loudly at the sudden, wonderful change of rhythm. Her hips responded to his every thrust, rubbing against him, both of them soaking wet with her fluids literally pouring out of her.

“Look at you, how easily you take me. How easy it is to fuck you when you're so wet for me." He exhaled contentedly, causing a strangled moan from her lips, her cheeks turning crimson. She tried to look away from him, but he wouldn't let her, grabbing her mouth and forcing her to look directly at his face.

"No. Watch me as I fuck you. How I take what's mine." He said menacingly, his eye dark as night. He pounded her hard and fast, the sound of their wet bodies clashing against each other ringing in their ears as they breathed loud and hard, chasing their own fulfillment.

"The first time we kissed, I was about to pull up your dress, pull down your panties and start fucking you." He sputtered, feeling that a few more firm, sure thrusts into her tight, hot insides and he would come.

"God, Aemond" She moaned helplessly, gasped for air and arched back, a long moan escaped her mouth as she felt a strong, sharp orgasm spread out in long waves over her body. Aemond opened his mouth at it, leaned lower and moaned low and throaty, feeling his semen melt inside her, pulsing with her, moving in that wonderful pleasure.

Both of them were still moving, kissing greedily, barely brushing their lips, panting heavily as if they had run a marathon, exhausted from the excitement and relief they had experienced with each other.

"Mine." He whispered into her mouth.

_____

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