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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 month ago

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Now and Tomorrow and Everyday After (Sylus x F! Reader) MDNI 18+

Synopsis: In spite of the 'tails' attempts to separate you from Sylus, it only seems to bring the two of you closer.

CW: Fingering, Oral (Female receiving), P in V, Praise Kink, after care, adult themes

Author Disclaimer- I do not own the LADS characters or lore and did use some dialogue from the recent banner's Sylus Card. I do NOT use AI and do not permit anyone else (or any other entity) to copy and advertise my work as their own. Definitely not proof read or edited because I was having “don’t post fear” and just needed to go for it.

Author Note: I made an attempt and this is my first time writing Sylus and posting it so yeah! Thanks for reading- all kind comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated! Remember, to be kind to yourself and others today! I also high key think Sylus is going to this zone to protect MC from Ever cause he makes mention of that but that's beside the point.

*this is my take on the Night of Secrecy Card. I wanted to fill in some gaps*

You pick at your nails nervously under the warm air of the AC. The city of Linkon passes you by- your eyes flickering to Sylus every so often as he drives you both to one of his safe houses.

Your nerves are on fire- not from the danger of whatever pot Sylus decided to stir up, but rather the fact that tonight is the night.

Or so you have decided.

And the night meaning boning. You want to bone this man hard.

Okay- wait, it’s probably more like make love to, but you aren’t sure where you stand in Sylus’ life or if his feelings are all that deep.

And would he even be capable of feeling that way towards you?

The thought makes that tight ring of nerves turn into a heavy ball in the pit of your stomach. Sylus really means a lot to you and you feel he shares that sentiment, but you have also been wrong before and it ended up just being a friends with benefits situation. You weren’t “girlfriend material” as you often joked with Tara.

But he is having you tag along, you think, he didn’t say he didn’t want you around. He just said he was leaving to protect you so maybe-

“What are you agonizing about over there?”

Shit.

“If you changed your mind-“

“No!” You say probably too abruptly, “I’m fine- everything is great, better than great even! Just thinking.”

Sylus chuckles and you don’t even have to look at him to know he is seeing right through. He knows you better than anyone at this point and he knows when something is bothering you.

You would honestly consider Sylus the closest thing to a best friend you could ever have. You can confide in him, depend on him, and you have a lot of fun with him.

For the most part, you think he has learned to depend on you, confide in you, and he certainly seems to enjoy himself when he is in your company. Luke and Kieran say they can tell when he’s been with you because he’s less trigger happy with the people he’s dealing with (which you’ll take as a win if you need to find one somewhere).

Not to mention- the way his hands were splayed along your thighs last night when he sat you on the kitchen counter was mind numbingly intimate. His fingers drew gentle shapes on your bare skin and left goosebumps in their wake. Sylus’ forehead was pressed against your own and his lips mere inches away, but he didn’t kiss you and you have been thinking about that all day.

What if he didn’t want to because he’s just trying to lead you on until you are of no use to him? What if all of these nice things and words and actions are all just to make sure you will still help him and resonating won’t be an issue again?

“What is it?” His voice is gentle, “maybe I can help you be less… befuddled.”

You shoot him a look that earns you a laugh, but you can see the genuine concern in his eyes. Sylus has been so invested in hiding you from the worst parts of his world and now that he’s opened up, he’s worried he’s lost you unintentionally and that all the time you have spent together is long forgotten.

You shrink slightly into your seat- avoiding his eyes the best you can and you say your question as quietly as you possibly can.

“I didn’t catch that, Kitten.”

You say it slightly louder now but still not enough and you can feel the deadpan look he is giving you.

“Howdoyouknowifsomeoneisromanticallyinterestedinyou?”

It’s all a bunch of gibberish, you had been far more confident of your assessment of his feelings when you were both walking and he was holding your hand. That would have been a really natural transition into discovering this question without any anxiety, but now you’ve had time to think about it and overthinking is the enemy of success.

And love, evidently.

“How they treat you, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, sweetie, when someone is interested in you romantically, they may do things like hold your hand, call you pet names,” he says with the slightest bit of humor, “go to the movies, buy you gifts, play the Claw Machine until it’s dark outside and the arcade owner has to finally kick you both out. Maybe even play kitty cards in spite of losing almost every match because their opponent is a cheater.”

“I am not a-“

Your brain does a hard reset as you begin to realize what he is trying to tell you.

Sylus is telling you ‘yes- I am romantically interested in you’ and the dumbest, biggest smile ever on your face.

“Was that the answer you were looking for?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy, “yeah- that was exactly the answer I was looking for.”

The rest of the ride is quiet with one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. You watch as the city quickly turns into a distant dream and Sylus’ safe house, not to your surprise, is very very large and it does very little to calm your nerves.

“I see owning multiple properties can be quite handy. A smart crow always has a few tricks up his sleeves.”

“The same can be said about having multiple slippers.”

You turn to him and stick your tongue out playfully, “ha ha, very funny.

“This safehouse doesn’t happen to warm up, does it?” your teeth begin to chatter slightly and your bare legs are littered in goose bumps, “it’s colder than hell in here.”

Sylus rolls his eyes at you, but begins to walk towards the fire place.

“It is snowing outside.”

The warm hues of the fire illuminated the room and reveals several boxes scattered about, some opened and others not. The rest of the house looks similar to his main house, but maybe slightly more scaled down. It’s beautiful and it has a great view of Linkon and the mountains behind it. It’s almost easy to forget this is a safe house and not a vacation home.

“I’ll leave after dawn. You should stay here for a while.”

You turn with a scoff, “I know your ‘territory’ is pretty safe, but as I said, a hunter doesn’t like being passive.”

“Really?”

You choose to ignore him- knowing all too well that he will suss out your plan to join him on his dangerous little adventure. There isn’t a single thing in the whole world that could convince you to stay here otherwise, but Sylus has his own ways of ensuring things go the way he wants and you don’t feel like waking up handcuffed somewhere for your own safety.

“What’s with all the gifts? I didn’t think you celebrated Christmas.”

Sylus chuckles, “I don’t, sweetie. I held an… ‘appraisal salon’ not that long ago.

“Would you like to take a look?”

It honestly is kind of like being in a candy shop, but the candy shop is the black market and instead of delicious treats, they sell guns and while guns are cool (when used appropriately), they certainly aren’t helping you get Sylus any closer to the bedroom than you were five minutes ago.

“Look at these bad boys!” You hold the unwrapped vintage gun, “this is a classic piece and very difficult to find.”

Then a stroke of genius occurs.

“Let’s have a contest,” you flash a cheeky grin, “whoever can disassemble their gun first gets to ask the other any question they want.”

“You truly are relentless.”

And of course Sylus agrees because he’s Sylus and he loves a good challenge. However, you are extremely determined to be the person asking the question and you know this specific gun quite well. You and Caleb learned how to shoot using these guns and you could disassemble it by telling it to.

The gun is pointed at Sylus’ chin right as he is about to finish putting together his own weapon. You eat up the delicious grin on his face. It makes you feel empowered- he makes you feel empowered.

“First- say the thing.”

He rolls his eyes and gives you a soft smile, “I like your confidence and your determination very much. Now go ahead, ask your question.”

Uh oh- you hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.

“I’m sleepy.”

WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING RIGHT NOW?

Sylus looks a bit perplexed and you cannot blame him- you need to fix this NOW!

“Can you… tuck me in?”

“I thought a certain relentless hunter would ask about my destination.”

You shrug, “I care more about the present than an answer I won’t get. So will you do it or not?”

Sylus is suddenly swinging you up into his arms and you yelp in surprise, but it doesn’t seem to get the usual laughing reaction you thought it would. Instead, there is a heat in his eyes that you have seen before but could never place what he was feeling until you began to feel it too.

“Of course, Kitten,” his nose brushes against yours, “this request is way more powerful than that little gun.”

Every footstep closer to the bedroom is another step towards you having to be brave and you find yourself studying Sylus’ features as the dim light of the hall lamps barely kisses his features. He is so beautiful- you could probably study him forever and find more things you adore about him.

He catches you looking and he returns your smile of adoration- flinging your shoes to the side and going to set you on the couch to quite literally tuck you in.

And ACTION!

“I’m not ready to lie down just yet.”

Sylus cocks an eyebrow, “if you don’t want to lie down, I can keep holding you until I leave.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave?”

Your question hangs in the air and it’s hidden meaning seems obvious to you, but then Sylus puts you down on the ground and you realize he may have missed the actual meaning of your words. Is it that unbelievable that you would want to have sex or are you doing a magnificently poor job of conveying that point?

“We better make the most of our time until dawn then.”

In the spur of the moment and desire coursing through your veins, you find the courage to push him down onto the couch behind him. With a gracefulness you have never been able to execute before, you straddle him and the way his breath hitches makes something inside you break.

Sylus’ face is an adorable and sexy pink and his breathing becomes more unsteady in your clumsy hands.

When your lips finally touch his, it feels as if you have been asleep your entire life until this very moment.

Your fingers find purchase in his hair and Sylus pulls you into him- his fingers surely leaving bruises along the back of your thigh. The kiss is filled with passion and desperation- his skin feels like it’s on fire under your touch and every moan against your lips sends shockwaves through you.

“You really don’t want me to leave.”

To emphasize his point- you tease his lower lip between your teeth that makes him feel absolutely feral.

“S-Sylus,” you pant between kisses, “over there.”

You anticipated him to be a bit rougher, maybe throwing you down on the bed or something, but he lays you down gently like you are a precious, fragile gift. His hands are firm and confident as he cradles you, needing to have you as close as physically possible.

Your clumsy hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt and loosening his tie. Your hands glide across his chest and your nails gently graze your territory- one of your nails taking the time drag across his nipple. Sylus bites your lower lip in response, his hips grinding into you, and the growl that claws it’s way up his throat excites you. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest by the time he pulls away and (not so gently) takes of your shirt.

The cool air is a stark contrast to the heat you feel on the inside- Sylus roams your bare chest and core with his eyes, his fingers hooking into your pants and pulling them down. You help by lifting your hips at an embarrassingly fast pace.

“Looks like we are on the same page with not wanting to waste any time.”

He crushes his lips against yours again, leaving bruising kisses on every inch of skin he comes in contact with. Sylus returns the favor from earlier, his practiced mouth circling your nipple with care. His tongue flicks and laps at the sensitive skin and his teeth are quick to follow, leaving love marks and spit littering your skin before making his way to the the other.

You are mesmerized as you watch him- your core wound tight and dripping with need at the sight of him worshipping your body. Leaning back, you close your eyes and enjoy every single sensation.

You have soaked the bed underneath you by the time he makes his way between your legs- you are so caught up in his silent worship that you can barely focus on the task at hand.

Strong, corded arms pull you to the edge of the bed and you jolt from your bliss filled daze- and God are you grateful you have. Sylus looks beautiful between your legs with his cocky smirk and pink cheeks- his warm breath lingers on the sensitive skin between your thighs.

With your legs slung over his shoulders- Sylus licks a stripe along your folds and ends at your clit, circling the sensitive nub and making lewd noises that you have only ever heard in porn. No one has truly, properly gone down on you and when they have, it always seemed like a chore.

“Sy-Sylus, you don’t have to if you don't wan-”

You are cut off when he sucks on your clit, his tongue taking the time to tease the nerves and leave you a whimpering mess.

“I’m not doing anything I haven’t thought about doing for a very long time now,” he kisses along the inside of your thighs, “now stay focused, kitten.

“Don’t look.”

One of your hands tangles in his hair and the other twists into the sheets. Sylus feasts and laps up your pleasure, his face covered in your essence and his nose breathes in your heady scent with happy, deep hums. His large hands roam your body, keeping your hips down and your legs clenched around him. They eventually return to your sore nipples and those practice, cold hands, become warm and attentive. He gropes and squeezes your breasts in time with his tongue as it darts in and out of your heat, his nose working to keep your bundle of nerves stimulated.

“Sy-” you clench your legs around his head tightly, a string of curse words leaving your mouth, “f-fuck- I’m, I’m-”

Sylus’ fingers dip between your folds and his tongue returns to your clit. His other hand holds down your hips as his fingers drive you to your first orgasm of the night. Your moans are shrill and untamed- embarrassing almost- but the more you sing for him, the harder Sylus works to get more and more of those pretty noises out of your mouth.

When he finally comes up for air, your pleasure is dripping from around his mouth and down his chin. Crimson eyes make eye contact with you and he brings his soaked fingers to his lips- shamelessly savoring the taste of you on his skin.

You can barely contain yourself when he begins to crawl along you- your greedy hands using his hands to pull him to you faster. Sylus gazes at you adoringly and you are overwhelmed with your own affections for him. You went from hating him to loving him, desiring him, and at least for tonight, he is all yours.

“What are you thinking about?”

Mindlessly, your hand cups his cheek and your thumb traces the spot where a scar should be from your first encounter.

“Am I being too greedy… if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me?”

Sylus almost looks relieved by your words, grabbing your arm and leaving a plethora of kisses as if to reward you for being open with him.

“You always had that right,” his warm breath and deep tone sends goosebumps of excitement up your spine, “which means… you can be even greedier. Do you want it, kitten?”

Your breath catches when you realize what he is insinuating and you blink a few times before nodding. He smiles and leans down, but you stop him momentarily. Your mind feels like it is going a thousand miles a minute as you run through every negative outcome. What if you are really bad in bed? What if he decides he doesn’t want to be with you or bother with you anymore after you share such an intimate moment with each other?

“Sylus-”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you…? You just said “yes?” his voice is desperate, “I’m hoping yes is still your answer because… I just can’t hold back anymore.”

A wave of want and need flows through you, but before you can continue, you want to make sure this isn’t the beginning of the end.

“If we do this,” you whisper, “if we have this intimate moment together- you can’t just disappear on me. I want you, Sylus. Now and tomorrow and everyday after.”

The Onychinus leader blinks a few times before the largest smile paints his face.

“Oh, y/n,” he sighs against your lips, “you have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say those words.”

Sylus kisses you deeply, his lips caress yours and your hands explore each other- your nails make designs in his back as you try to keep yourself as close to him as you possibly can. Sylus’ clothed crotch is stained in the mess between your legs while he rocks his hips into you. His hand is tangled in your hair and the other is pressing you flush to his sweat soaked chest. The kiss only continues to deepen in passion and need- you barely get him to let you take a moment to breathe.

“He-hey- no biting here,” you tease, pulling him back by his hair after he nips the skin on your neck a bit too roughly.

His pupils are blown wide with lust and pent up frustration, “First you want it rough, then you want it soft. You’re a tough one to please tonight, y/n.”

You are lost in the depths of his eyes and the pooling of emotions behind them. You forget to breathe until he breaks eye contact to leave soothing kisses over the bite mark.

“What do you really want?” he uncharacteristically pleads, “won’t you tell me like you just did?”

While his voice may be innocent, you are far from believing this act. With a smirk, you use your strength to roll him on his back and your hands intertwine with his- keeping them pinned to the bed. The look of surprise on his face is refreshing, to say the least.

You lean down and kiss him slowly, nipping at his lower lip and eating up the breathy chuckle he releases.

“I told you a hunter doesn’t like being passive.”

“So you want control?”

You nod victoriously, certain you are going to be the one in control tonight. Sylus returns your confident smile with one of mischief before he somehow pins you down in the spot he was before.

Sylus chuckles deeply, “Unfortunately, I can’t give it to you. Not yet, at least.”

Before you can inquire about what he means, you feel the pressure of two of his fingers sliding inside your wet cunt. An open mouthed, guttural moan leaves your lips and Sylus just watches- his other hand holding your chin so he can make eye contact. He wants to see your pleasure and know he is the only one you are thinking of- the only one you are seeing.

Sylus wants you to know- no, understand- that you are his, not anyone else’s.

“Sy-sylus,” you plead, “pl-please I ne-”

“Don’t run.”

Your back arches upwards and you try to pull away from his hand when you feel a warm wave gush and soak the sheets beneath you. Sylus doesn’t relent and quickly coaxes another orgasm from your shaking body.

“Yo-you’re… so annoying…”

“I won’t deny it,” he crawls off of you with a grin, “I guess you can say I lied. Tonight, you’re not the only one feeling greedy…”

Sylus unzips his pants and pulls down his brief- his cock springs free and slaps against his lower ab muscles. Your mouth is watering in anticipation at his size- of course he’s perfect. He’s Sylus.

He climbs back on the bed and pulls you closer to him- the head of his cock presses against your folds and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“I misspoke.”

“What…?”

Is he changing his mind?

“Greed can never be satisfied,” he places your hand on his chest, your hearts beating in sync, “but you can temporarily soothe it.

“Say it again, y/n, do you want it?”

Time feels like it stops completely when his eyes meet yours. Your devotion and adoration for each other is magnetic- an unspoken magic between both of you. Your fingers lace themselves in his hair, pulling him to you and you take your time to kiss him slowly, reassuringly.

“This is my answer.”

Whatever lust and want that had been held back erupts within an instant. Sylus crushes your lips with his and he slowly glides himself inside of you- your legs tighten around his torso and your whine of pleasure interrupts the heated kiss.

“F-fuck, y/n.”

Sylus’ pace is both gentle and punishing- you can feel him trying to be gentle, but the more he holds himself back, the more you want him to let go.

“Let go, Sy,” you whisper, “I’m yours.”

His hips set a punishing pace- your collective sighs and moans are the melody to the filthy sound of sex soaked skin and your hips meeting. His tip grazes the opening of your cervix and his abs stimulate your aching clit. The spongy sensitive spot inside of you is relentlessly stimulated with each movement.

“Such a good girl,” he growls into your ear, “fuck you’re so tight.”

Your only response to his praise is pathetic whimpers and cries. It doesn’t stop him- if anything, he only begins to praise you more. Sylus is wrapped up in the moment and wants nothing more than to stay in this moment with you forever. You are safe and in his arms- he is finally reunited with you in body, mind, and soul and this spurs him on more, his cock driving into you harder and harder and his hands digging into the flesh of your ass and hips to keep you in place.

You cling to each other, lips and teeth clashing against each other sloppily as you both lose your composure to the others’ wanting. Your velvet walls clench around him desperately and your fingers try to find purchase on his back, in his hair, anywhere as your orgasm overtakes you.

With a few more rough thrusts, Sylus stutters inside of you and thick ropes of cum coats the inside of your walls and fills you to the brim. He lays on top of you with very little of his weight, his face in the crook of your neck. Sylus leaves soft kisses along your neck and sings words of praise that you can barely register.

At some point, he gets up and you hear the bathtub turn on and the soft padding of feet. Sylus’s strong arms cradle you- taking you to the now filled bathtub that is more than big enough for two.

You straddle his lap so that you can face him. Sylus kisses you slowly while he cleans you- pouring water on your hair, scrubbing your scalp, cleaning the sweat along your shoulders and on the back of your neck. You return the favor, taking your time to make sure he can feel all the love you have for him and how much you care for him.

He helps you lotion and brush your teeth- at no point do your feet ever actually touch the ground again. Sylus sets you on the couch in one of his shirts and begins to change the sheets.

“Do you want some help?” you offer, your legs sore, but not wanting to be too much of a pillow princess.

Sylus rolls his eyes at you, “I’m capable of tackling this mission on my own, sweetie, but I will let you know if another pressing issue arises.”

You scoff playfully and wait for him to finish making the bed. Sylus picks you up and places you on the bed, you snuggle up next to him as soon as he lies down and, much like when you were in the grasslands, you lay your head on his bicep and he pulls you closer to him. You have never felt quite so warm or safe in your entire life and your resolve only hardens further.

You cannot allow Sylus to go by himself into the jaws of danger. You refuse to.

You turn and kiss his bicep, settling deeper into his arms.

“Good night, my clever Crow,” you say with a yawn, “remember not to steal the blanket.”

He snorts, “I will try my best, kitten. Now get some rest- I’ll keep you safe.”

You nod- knowing in your heart that you will always be safe with Sylus around- and let sleep take you. You have a long flight and some ass whooping on the agenda tomorrow, after all.

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rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

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Where the Night Ends

SUMMARY: After an evening in the spotlight, Glen Powell’s biggest night of the year is more than just red carpets and bright lights—it’s a celebration of his career and a test of his resilience. Through the glamour and chaos, you’re by his side, offering him a safe space to share the highs and the inevitable disappointments. In the quiet hours after the applause fades, the two of you find strength in each other, proving that true connection shines brighter than any award.

A/N: This story was inspired by the idea for a story I've had for a while for Glen that even the most charismatic and confident people, like Glen Powell, have quieter, more vulnerable sides they don’t often show the world. While Glen’s charm and upbeat personality make him shine in the public eye, I wanted to imagine what those quiet, intimate moments might look like—the ones where he allows himself to relax and let his guard down with someone he trusts completely. And I thought tonight with the Golden Globes and him not winning would be a perfect way to explore this idea I've had. Also I don't know why but Glen low key gives me golden retriever boyfriend vibes so there's some of that in here as well!

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your Likes, Comments, and Reblogs mean the world to me and help me continue creating stories like this one.

WARNINGS: Nudity (No Smut, just non-sexual but intimate nudity).

TAGS: In comments.

You glance at your reflection one last time, running your hands down the smooth fabric of your gown. The luxurious satin hugs your body in all the right places, the deep color shimmering subtly under the bathroom light. The rich hue perfectly complements Glen’s sharp, classic black ensemble, and you can't help but imagine how great the two of you will look together tonight. The gold accents on your bracelet catch the light with every movement, adding a hint of warmth to the otherwise cool tones of the dress. It feels like magic—elegant, understated, and yet striking in its own quiet way. The gown pools slightly at your feet, as if it were made for you.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. This is your first time attending such an event with Glen, despite the time you’ve been together. You won’t be walking the red carpet beside him, and the idea of staying in the background, on the sidelines, makes you both excited and slightly anxious. You're not used to this kind of attention, and tonight, all eyes will be on him.

Before you can let the nerves fully settle in, you hear Glen's voice. His warm, familiar tone breaks through the quiet of the hotel room.

"Damn," he murmurs from the doorway, his voice a little breathless. "I thought the Golden Globes were supposed to be the main event tonight, but now I’m not so sure."

You turn toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin, his velvet jacket catching the light. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them—a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper.

He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours, and wraps his arms around you from behind. His chest presses into your back, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. His breath brushes against your ear, soft and gentle.

"You look incredible," he says, voice low and reverent, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. The warmth of his embrace settles your nerves, and the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding begins to melt away.

His presence is like a balm, soothing your anxieties. You lean back into him, the soft beat of his heart against your back comforting you. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy before the whirlwind of the night begins.

"You sure I’m not going to embarrass you in front of all those cameras?" you tease, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

Glen chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. "You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried," he murmurs, his voice steady. "Besides I think my mom and dad have the embarrassing moments covered."

You both laugh softly, but the smile that stretches across his face is real—genuine, almost vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. It’s a rare, quiet moment that makes you feel all the more certain of the love you share.

You take a deep breath, your nerves settling as you feel the warmth of his body surrounding you. His embrace is a reminder of the calm you’ve come to rely on in the chaos of this world—his, and now yours.

"Alright, I think it’s time to get going," you say softly, turning slightly to grab your coat from the chair.

Glen kisses your cheek before you both head for the door, his hand brushing yours as you step into the next phase of the night.

You and Glen step out of the hotel room, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as the door clicks shut behind you. Glen’s hand finds yours almost instinctively, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you once again. You give him a small smile, feeling the shift from the quiet intimacy of the room to the bustle of the world outside.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice warm but laced with a hint of excitement. His eyes twinkle, full of that effortless charm he seems to carry with him no matter where he goes.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is quick, but the silence between you is comfortable. Glen’s thumb brushes lightly against your hand as you both stand side by side, the sound of the elevator music almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline you both share. Tonight is big—for him, for both of you—but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, sharing a quiet space before the chaos begins.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby floor, and you step out into the bright, bustling space. The lobby is abuzz with activity—people in tuxedos and gowns chatting, last-minute preparations happening all around. You spot the entrance to the event area, where a stream of reporters and photographers are lined up, their cameras ready to catch the next big arrival.

Glen’s parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., are already waiting by the elevators, talking to a few other familiar faces. The moment they see you both, Cyndy’s warm, motherly smile lights up her face.

"There they are!" she says, walking over to give Glen a hug. "Glen, you look so handsome!"

Glen returns her embrace with a chuckle, his broad shoulders relaxing in her hug. "Thanks, Mom. You look amazing, too."

Cyndy pulls back, giving you a quick once-over with approving eyes. "And you, sweetheart, look just breathtaking."

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly, feeling a wave of warmth at her words.

Glen Sr. gives you a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the growing crowd. “Ready to go, son?” he asks, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the bright excitement in the air.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Glen replies, squeezing your hand once more before stepping forward.

As you step toward the doors, the weight of the night becomes palpable, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Glen’s hand slips from yours, but not before he gives it one last, reassuring squeeze. His gaze meets yours for a moment, his eyes soft with affection despite the flurry of activity around you.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of warmth through your body.

"Stay close to my parents," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, a mixture of affection and quiet command. "I’ll talk to you after the red carpet, okay?"

You nod, the reassurance in his words settling your nerves just slightly. His presence, even in these small moments, brings you an unexpected sense of calm. You watch as he straightens up, giving you a final, comforting smile before turning to head towards the first section of the red carpet. The flashing lights of the cameras immediately focus on him, the buzz of voices rising as they call out his name.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight isn’t about the spotlight on you—it’s about being there for him, supporting him as he steps into this moment.

Before you can fully process the next rush of energy, you feel a light nudge at your elbow. Glen’s dad, with his ever-so-gracious demeanor, offers you his arm.

"Shall we?" he asks with a warm smile, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks toward his son, now posing for the cameras ahead.

You slip your arm through his, the two of you walking in step with Glen’s mother beside you. The hum of the red carpet fills the air, the cameras flashing in bursts like strobe lights as people call out names, photographers jockeying for the best shot. It feels surreal, watching Glen move through the chaos so effortlessly, a magnet for attention, while you remain just behind him, tucked safely in the background.

The red carpet is a world of its own—a whirlwind of lights, flashing cameras, and excited chatter. You stand a few feet behind Glen, walking with his parents as you watch him effortlessly navigate the chaos. From the moment he steps onto the carpet, he’s in his element, greeting reporters, posing for the cameras, and smiling with a confidence that seems almost innate.

He moves with such ease, each step deliberate, his velvet jacket catching the light with every turn. The photographers call out his name, the clicks of the cameras almost deafening, but Glen is unfazed. He’s a natural—tilting his head slightly, flashing that signature smile that’s made him a favorite among fans and critics alike. Each pose is perfectly executed, like he’s done this a thousand times, and yet you know it’s all real, all part of the moment.

Glen interacts with the reporters as though they’re old friends. He laughs at their jokes, asks how their evening is going, and never misses a beat. It’s impossible not to feel proud as you watch him—this man you love, who has worked so hard to get to this point in his career, now being recognized for his talents. The genuine warmth in his smile, the way he listens to each person, makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room.

You catch snippets of conversations, little flashes of Glen’s humor and grace as he talks to the interviewers. “It’s an honor just to be here with such incredible talent,” he says to one, giving a humble but genuine answer that makes the reporter smile brightly. The cameras click furiously as he poses once more, a wink in your direction as if he’s sharing a private joke with you amidst all the attention.

He walks past you briefly, pausing to stop and chat with one of the other nominees. The other actor greets him warmly, their handshake firm and friendly. Glen’s laughter rings out, the two of them talking animatedly. It’s clear they’re both enjoying the interaction, and you feel a swell of pride as you watch him effortlessly charm everyone around him.

As Glen continues walking down the carpet, interacting with other actors and actresses, you steal quick glances at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker toward you, checking in even amidst the chaos. Every so often, he pauses—just for a moment—and looks back to where you’re standing with his parents, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment of connection.

It happens once when he’s posing for a photographer. He turns just enough to meet your eyes, his smile softening, just for you. Then, as he moves toward the next group of reporters, he sends a quick wink your way—casual but filled with meaning.

As he’s walking towards the interview section, he reaches out briefly, brushing his hand against yours. It’s so subtle, so quick, but the warmth of it lingers, making your heart skip a beat. You smile to yourself, feeling like you’re the only one in the crowd who understands the quiet moments between the flashes.

Every now and then, he checks in with his parents, his dad offering a gentle nod or a pat on the back, and his mom giving him a quick hug, congratulating him on the moment. As he walks past you again, he places his hand lightly on your lower back, the touch firm but gentle, like a silent reassurance. He leans in, his voice low but carrying just enough for you to hear, “I’m almost done, I promise.” You smile softly, nodding, grateful for the little check-ins.

With each moment, you feel more in awe of him—his ability to navigate this world with such grace, his kindness, and his generosity toward everyone he meets. You’ve always known how hard he’s worked for this, but seeing him shine like this, being recognized for his talent, makes your heart swell with pride. The man standing before you, talking to the crowd, was once just a guy with a dream—and now, he’s living it.

As Glen steps off the red carpet, the flurry of flashing cameras and excited shouts start to fade away. The soft hum of conversation inside the venue fills the air, and for a brief moment, you feel like the world slows down. You catch his eye just as he spots you standing at the edge of the carpet, watching him. His smile lights up his face—genuine and warm—and your heart flutters just a little bit at the sight of it.

Without a second thought, Glen strides over to you, his presence commanding yet soft, as though the spotlight of the red carpet hasn’t followed him. He leans in, pressing a quick, simple kiss to your lips—one that might be so brief to anyone watching that they’d miss it, but to you, it feels like a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers just enough to remind you that you’re still in his thoughts, even in the whirlwind of the evening.

Pulling back, Glen smiles at you, his eyes soft but intense. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of everything. His parents, ever gracious, follow behind as Glen begins to lead you into the venue.

As you step inside, the atmosphere changes. The venue is filled with a sea of familiar, and very recognizable, faces. A sea of stars, each more dazzling than the last. You glance around, and your nerves spike just a little—this is the world Glen belongs to, and even though you’re used to being by his side, it feels a little more overwhelming now. The glitzy chandeliers above, the hum of voices, the clicking of glasses... all of it is a far cry from the quieter, more intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Instinctively, you bring your free hand up and curl it around Glen’s arm, drawing just a little closer to him. It’s subtle, a small gesture, but it makes you feel grounded in a room full of people you don’t quite know. Glen notices immediately, his eyes flicking down to you as if checking in to see how you're holding up.

“You alright?” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low but caring.

You give him a small smile, nodding, but he can tell there’s a flicker of nervousness in your eyes. Glen squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, reassuring rhythm.

“We’ve got this,” he says with a quiet confidence that you know is meant as much for you as it is for himself.

His smile is enough to settle your nerves, if only for a moment. You take a deep breath, and as the two of you move further into the room, the sight of the grand tables, the gleaming crystal glasses, and the fancy place settings begin to feel more familiar. Glen leads you with an easy grace, guiding you toward your assigned table with a worker who’s waiting to escort you.

The worker gestures toward your seats, and Glen holds out his hand as you approach. With a flourish, he pulls your chair out for you, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. You smile at him, grateful for his quiet care in a setting that could easily feel overwhelming.

As you sit down, Glen takes the seat beside you, his presence as steady and comforting as it has always been. He straightens his jacket and settles into his seat, and for the first time in hours, the two of you share a quiet moment, just the two of you. The world outside might be full of glamour, fame, and recognition, but here, in this little bubble you’ve found together, it’s just Glen—being the perfect gentleman, just as he always is.

The award show begins with a grand flourish. The host steps onto the stage, the lights dimming just slightly as the audience settles into their seats. You glance around, taking in the bustling room—famous actors, actresses, and directors sitting nearby, the whispers of excitement as the event officially kicks off.

Glen’s hand rests lightly on the back of your chair. The touch is small, but it anchors you in the midst of all the grandeur surrounding you. Without thinking, you lean into him just slightly, your head tipping toward his. The warmth of his body is a comfort, grounding you as the opening monologue begins.

The host captures the crowd’s attention with a series of jokes, and the sound of laughter ripples across the room. Glen smiles at the moment, but his attention is mostly on you. Every now and then, his fingers gently tap the back of your chair as if offering his quiet reassurance. You can feel his eyes on you, checking in with a glance when he thinks you’re not looking, making sure you’re comfortable in your seat.

The first few awards pass by quickly, the names of the nominees and winners announced with the usual anticipation, but you can feel the clock ticking in your mind, each passing moment heightening the tension in your chest. Glen is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy, and the weight of the moment is starting to sink in.

You can feel your nerves rising with each passing category. With each announcement, the tightness in your chest grows as you anxiously glance down at your program, running your fingers over the pages in a distracted rhythm. Every now and then, Glen’s hand brushes against yours, either adjusting his position or offering an unspoken gesture of comfort. When his fingers meet yours, it’s as if the connection between you both is the only thing that grounds you amidst the flashing lights and the build-up.

The host’s voice rings out again, announcing the next presenters. You force yourself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves that’s started to settle deep in your stomach. You can’t help but glance up at Glen, who, despite the chaos and the nerves building up inside him, is still looking at you with that same steady calmness. His eyes meet yours, soft but intense, and he gives you a small, quiet smile.

“You good?” he asks under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the audience.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Yeah, just a little anxious,” you admit quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your program.

Glen gives you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder and leans in closer. “You’re doing great,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember I’m right here.”

His voice is a steady comfort, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into it, but the closer you get to the moment of the award announcement, the harder it is to ignore the nerves prickling in your chest. You try not to let it show, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that your whole body seems to tense with every name called.

The tension is almost unbearable as the next award category is announced. You can feel your heart beating faster as the presenter walks to the podium, the lights dimming slightly on the stage as the camera pans over the audience. You glance at Glen, your hand still lightly resting on his knee, both of you anxiously waiting for the moment to unfold.

The announcer opens the envelope, a brief pause lingering in the air, and then the name is spoken.

“Sebastian Stan.”

The name hit you like a soft punch to the gut. You’d been hoping, praying that Glen’s name would be called. But it’s not.

You exhale, the breath you’d been holding escaping in a slow, almost deflated sigh as the applause fills the room. Everyone around you begins clapping, but you feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach. You try to join in, your hands moving in sync with the crowd, but it feels automatic, hollow.

Glen’s gaze shifts downward as he claps politely, a professional smile plastered on his face. The joy that had been there moments ago, when he’d been watching others celebrate, is now gone. You notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens just slightly. It’s so faint, but you see it—his disappointment, quiet and swift.

Without hesitation, you place a gentle hand on his knee, your fingers curling softly around the fabric of his suit. It’s a quiet gesture, one that says everything without words.

Leaning in closer, you whisper just for him. “I’m still so proud of you,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “This doesn’t change anything. You’ve had an incredible year.”

His eyes flicker to you for a moment, and though his smile is still warm, there’s a shadow of something behind it. He nods, as if trying to convince himself.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice carrying the faintest hint of regret. “It’s all right.”

The cameras still hover near your table, and Glen turns slightly, giving his trademark charm for the audience, though you can see the subtle strain in the movement. It’s a mask, and you know it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of disappointment had settled in, he shrugs it off, the professional smile back in place. He straightens his shoulders and waves at the camera as if nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand, offering him one more piece of quiet support. “You’ve worked so hard. This is just the beginning.”

Glen looks at you, his eyes softening, and he offers a genuine, albeit faint, smile. “I know. It’s just... I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and in that instant, you both share a fleeting connection—one of understanding, of being on the same page. You see past the façade, knowing the true weight of his disappointment.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of applause, speeches, and glimmering smiles, but the air feels different now. Glen seems to slip back into his polished, charming self, laughing with others and posing for photos as if nothing had happened. But you know him too well. Every now and then, when the laughter dies down or when the lights shift in a way that makes everything feel softer, you catch glimpses of that quiet vulnerability he’s tried to hide.

You continue to offer him your presence, your unwavering support. Your hand resting on the top of his hand which rests on his thigh, fingers gently tracing the skin on the back of his hand during the dull moments between awards. You don’t need to say anything—he knows you’re there. And though he’s the one in the spotlight, it’s in these moments when you share the unspoken strength that makes you feel so connected.

The show drags on, the anticipation building as the categories shift, and eventually, the evening winds down to its final moments. You barely notice the presenter’s voice over the soft murmur of your own thoughts, a quiet hum of gratitude settling in your chest. Glen may not have won tonight, but you know—this isn’t the end for him. Not even close.

When the final award is presented, everyone stands in applause, their excitement contagious, but you find yourself leaning back into the comfort of the moment. Glen’s hand, warm and steady on your back, guides you as you both move toward the exit, his parents trailing behind you.

You glance over at him—his face now a perfect mask of grace and poise. His earlier disappointment seems to have faded into the evening's glow. And though you know it might still sting for him later, for now, you’re here. Together. And that’s all that matters.

After the award show ends, Glen gives you a small, reassuring smile as you both make your way toward his parents, who are chatting with a few other guests near the exit. You and Glen share a brief exchange of looks—silent understanding passing between you before you approach them.

“Well, I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Glen says, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he hugs his mom first, then his dad.

You follow his lead, offering a warm hug to Cyndy and Glen Sr., both of whom have been incredibly supportive all night. You exchange a few words, with his mom offering you a knowing smile and his dad patting Glen on the back, offering him a quiet “You did good, son. We're proud of you.”

Once the goodbyes are said, Glen takes your hand, leading you away from his parents to a quieter corner.

“Let’s get this night wrapped up,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently toward the after-party.

The after-party is lively but not too overbearing. The usual crowd of actors, producers, and influencers circulate the room, laughing and enjoying the last moments of the night. Glen and you share a few casual conversations with some of his industry friends, but the two of you stay close, mostly content in each other's presence.

You don’t stay long. Glen’s energy is starting to dip, and you can see the weight of the night catching up to him. When he whispers that he’s ready to leave, you’re more than ready to head back to the hotel as well.

As the elevator doors close behind you, the sounds of the bustling venue fade, replaced by the soft hum of the ride up. You catch Glen glancing at you from the corner of your eye, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You were great tonight,” you say quietly, your voice a soft reassurance.

He shrugs, but the smile never fades. “It’s just part of the job.”

As you and Glen exit the elevator, the hallway feels quieter, almost like a contrast to the energy of the evening. The weight of the night—of the red carpet, the award show, the after-party—seems to melt away as you make your way down the hall toward your hotel room.

Glen’s hand is warm around yours, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling in now that the cameras are no longer flashing and the attention is no longer on him. His smile, though still present, is more tired than it had been earlier. You can tell he’s ready to unwind, just the two of you.

Reaching the door, Glen digs into his pocket for the room key, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. As the door swings open, the familiar scent of the room hits you—slightly musty, but comforting, like the feeling of stepping back into a private space after a long, public day.

He holds the door open for you, letting you walk in first, before following closely behind. The room is dimly lit, the night sky outside casting a soft glow through the windows. You drop your clutch on the bed, watching as Glen kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh.

You turn to face him, standing there for a moment, both of you silently taking in the quiet that fills the room. Glen moves toward you, his hands finding yours, pulling you gently toward him.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smile up at him, the flicker of pride you feel for him still alive in your chest. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

Glen’s lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he steps closer, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, as if silently thanking you for being his anchor. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s finally allowing himself to relax fully. The warmth of his breath against your temple sends a shiver through you.

Then, he lifts his head and looks at you, his hazel eyes holding something deeper. He reaches up, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you meet his gaze fully.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll say no.

Your chest tightens at his vulnerability, and you smile softly, shaking your head.

“Of course,” you whisper. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping in your own room anyway.

His shoulders relax slightly at your answer, and his lips curve into a grateful smile. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice still low, intimate. “Let’s take a shower.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on fills the space as Glen leans over to adjust the temperature. Steam begins to curl in the air, softening the edges of the brightly lit room.

Turning back to you, Glen steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His velvet jacket is the first to go. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his shoulders as you slide it off. It drops to the floor in a heap, revealing his silk shirt underneath. Slowly, your hands move to the buttons, undoing each one with care.

As you work, Glen leans down, pressing soft kisses along your lips, jawline and down your neck. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver through you, but the moment isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of closeness he missed earlier.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to touch you all night,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You pause for a moment, your hands resting on his chest, and look up at him with a small smile. “I think I might have an idea,” you tease softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Once you’ve finished unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off in one smooth motion, letting it pool on the cool tiled floor beside his jacket. Then, his hands find your hips, and he gently spins you around. His fingers trace the line of the zipper on your dress, slowly sliding it down. The fabric loosens, slipping over your hips and down your body until it gathers at your feet.

Glen wraps his arms around your bare midsection, pulling you back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, before moving to press another kiss to your neck. “I love you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you rest your hands over his where they’re wrapped around you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

After a moment, he releases you, stepping back so you can both finish undressing. Once you’re both bare, Glen takes your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you into the shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the long evening.

Inside the glass enclosure, it’s just the two of you, cocooned in the sound of the rushing water and the heat that envelopes you both. Glen reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before gently running them through the strands of your hair. His touch is slow and deliberate.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur as he works the product into your scalp further.

He pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Not even close,” he replies softly.

You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes hold yours for a long moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you reach up, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “You already do,” you whisper.

For the rest of the shower, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, intimate exchange of touch and unspoken promises. By the time you step out and wrap yourselves in the plush hotel robes, the connection between you somehow feels even stronger, solidified by the quiet moments you’ve shared.

Steam still lingers in the air as the two of you step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and relaxed. You pad over to your suitcase, rifling through it for something to wear, but instead of choosing one of your own shirts, you make your way to Glen’s bag. Pulling out one of his well-worn t-shirts, you slip it over your head, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. You pair it with your favorite underwear and turn to see Glen already pulling on a pair of black boxers, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He glances at you and his lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Looks better on you,” he murmurs, nodding toward his shirt. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest.

The two of you crawl onto the plush mattress, settling in side by side. The headboard provides a comfortable backrest as Glen grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through channels. The faint glow of the screen fills the otherwise dimly lit room, but neither of you are paying much attention to what’s on.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that only comes with familiarity. Without a word, Glen shifts, leaning over to lay his head on your lap. His strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, anchoring himself to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He exhales deeply, his breath warm against your leg, and you feel the tension in his body begin to melt away.

Instinctively, your fingers find their way to his hair, gently combing through the damp strands. He sighs at the touch, the sound soft and vulnerable, and it makes your chest tighten. You know Glen is always composed in public, but here, in the quiet of the hotel room, he lets his guard down.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just holds onto you like he needs the connection to keep himself steady. You can feel the weight of the evening still lingering in the air between you, though. It’s not just physical exhaustion; it’s the emotional toll of the night—the highs and lows, the constant smiling, the conversations that required too much energy.

Finally, Glen breaks the silence, his voice low and raw. “It was a lot, you know?” he murmurs, his face still pressed against your lap. “The whole day… the prep, the red carpet, the cameras… smiling so much my face hurt. And then sitting there, waiting for them to call my name.”

You hum softly in acknowledgment, your fingers never faltering in their soothing motions through his hair. “It’s okay to feel disappointed, you know. You worked so hard. Anyone would feel the same.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“It’s not even about winning,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think… I think it’s just everything leading up to it. The expectations, the pressure. And then when they didn’t call my name, it was like all of that hit me at once.”

You glance down at him, his face partially hidden in the soft fabric of your borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay to feel this way, Glen,” you say softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he buries his face back against you.

“I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. My parents, the team that worked on this movie with me…” His voice trails off, and you can feel the vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your parents are proud of you. I’m proud of you. I know Richard and Adria and the rest of the team that worked on this are proud of you too. Being nominated is a huge accomplishment, and everyone knows how much work you put into this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him relax a little more against you. Your fingers continue their rhythmic motion through his hair, and the tension in his body seems to dissolve with every gentle stroke. The room is quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV in the background and the even sound of his breathing.

“You make everything better,” he finally whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Glen doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close like you’re his anchor in the storm. And in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—right here, grounding him when he needs it most.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x reader #Glen Powell x you

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the-summ0ning · 8 months ago

Text

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with vessel

Hello, I hope you like my final HC for Ves. Fluff elements with highly NSFW ideas. 🤠 I’m always open to HC requests as well 🤭

Vessel, vessel, vessel—where do we begin?

Vessel the bf that is so deeply profoundly in love with you

If he could he’d rip his heart out of his chest for you and just hand it to you, he would.

His love languages would be words of affirmation and physical touch

He often battles with icky thoughts of himself, and you’re his ever radiant light in his bleakest days, so he would go out of his way to make sure it was known

Notes everywhere around your house, even a month and half into tour, you keep finding them

Praises in your medicine cabinet, crumbled pieces of paper at the bottom of your bags bc he know you won’t find them right away. Little Sonnets on your desk or on the fridge just so you know how much you are loved by him

Once you stopped finding them around the house or in your things, he’d start sending flowers or treats with love notes attached. Just because gestures especially if the night before you told him what a long week it was and knew you were struggling

You have so many of these notes, post its, scraps of paper you’ve compiled them in a scrapbook/binder and it’s on your bookshelf now

Texts for when you wake up reminding you to take your meds/vitamins, and to keep up with your water intake—voice memos too

Honestly he’d send you voice memos all the time like it was your own little podcast

Having black paint smeared on you because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself

Or would want you to apply his body paint before a show. Squirming underneath your fingers as you apply it because of your featherlight touches, listening to his quiet hisses when you’d go too low and gentle

“We’re not going to make it out of this dressing room if you keep doing that, love.”

Vessel would love to be big spoon, having you tucked underneath him or your back against his chest. Tracing patterns on your arms, hips, and thighs

He always loomed around you, everyone knowing if you were there, he was somewhere lurking around 95% of the time. He was a quietly protective man.

Coming up when you were talking with friends at an event, a comforting squeeze to the nape of your neck and a drink to quietly check on you

Wearing one of his extra robes backstage. It was so big and light, perfect for the hot and humid venues, a great blanket tbh where you could use the hood to cover your face

There’s a folder in his phone dedicated with pictures of you in many spaces of the venues they played just sleeping with his robe over you

Also the amount of videos of you two just frolicking around backstage, helping him with dance moves whilst in his robe that dragged on the floor, nearly tripping on it, when you wore it because it was so long on you

You liked to go into the crowd during the shows, enjoying the atmosphere of fans. Vessel would get a kick out of that, and you two would make it like a game almost

Instantly being able to spot you in the crowd through the lights and smoke. Always looking in your direction to lowkey serenade you and do little inconspicuous moves directed for you. In return, you’d run your hands through up and down your body swaying your hips to his voice. His own little siren in the sea of people

He loved watching you jam tf out with the fans so careless in your own world dancing with everyone or receiving bracelets from the fellow concertgoers (he would panic slightly watching you try to go into the mosh pit every time tho, one time he actually had to send a member of the crew to discreetly retrieve you.)

I imagine vessel being codependent af, and the simplest of tasks you were always requested to tag along

groceries, pharmacy trips, picking up takeout—he needed his emotional support person. Bribing and rewarding you with little treats to lure you with him thinking you’d say no how could you he’d hit you with the puppy dog eyes I just know he’s master at that

Staying up or waking up to listen to his late night rambles/dreams/conspiracies tucked under his arm while sharing a joint or bottle of spirits

Or sitting beside him as he wrote song lyrics, quietly running them by you for your opinion. You just blinking slowly in awe with what his mind created unable to provide the input he wanted

I thinks it’s a mutual consensus among us: Vessel loves to bite. He can’t help his carnal primal urge to. He does it with his friends, you… Everyone had a mark from him at this point

I don’t imagine him being into quickies (unless he was absolutely throbbing and thirsting for you) this man would take his time. Setting the pace all during the day teasing you

He loved nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses below your ear and whispering the filthiest things to get you flustered

“You look so good right now, I could take you right here.”

“I can’t wait to get you home and be deep inside you later, doll.” He would murmur, his hand squeezing your hip pulling you back into him feeling his already hardening length pressing in the soft flesh of your ass

Then when it finally happened, he goes at a nearly agonizing pace—he wanted to worship you. He didn’t like to fuck, he liked to make love.

intense and passionate, hips slowly rolling into you up til you were full of him. And he kept hitting that spot that made your eyes see stars and lulled to the back of your head.

He was not shy about how he felt, always moaning and praising you, but wasn’t too loud. Vocal fry as he quietly moaned about how good you made him feel

“You’re squeezing me so well,” rasping out, trying to look at where your bodies connected, resisting the urge to close his eyes

“Fuck, you look so pretty under me.”

He’s 100% a morning sex person

Not even letting either of you have a chance to get out of bed, one hand slipping down your front rubbing you softly while the other gripped your throat to turn your face so he could slowly kiss you—devouring your mouth with his—all in a blissed out half sleep stupor

Hehe, I woke up from my nap and chose violence horniness, sorry. Anyways thanks for the support and all the love on these 🫶🏻✨

#sleep token x reader #vessel #vessel sleep token x reader #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token imagine #sleep token headcanons #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x reader #sleep token vessel #vessel smut #sleep token vessel smut #vessel x reader smut

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swee7dream · 4 months ago

Note

hiii i saw that request are open for jae ( I CANNOT COPE WITH THE NEWS) so i was thinking if you could write about a fluff kind or drabble?!?! of maybe yn helping jae to cut his hair before enlisting but he has so much hair and like WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO LEAVE YOUR FLUFFY BIG HEAD BF BALD but yea kinda like cute couple-y moment?

military wife duties jeong jaehyun x female!reader

genres established relationship , fluff , angst if u squint warnings female reader , mention of enlistment (◞‸◟；) author's note when nahyuck enlist i will genuinely crash out like i will need to be put under watch dpwm . tysm for the request ! i will miss valentine boy so bad , , tag list @aeriaeri @mystarsohee @iwontlettheselittlethingsslip

“How could you do this to me? To us? I… I thought you loved me, Jaehyun. Does all our time together mean nothing to you?”

“Baby…” He holds your wrists, the sensation barely felt. “It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair!” you whimper, lip quivering. “Hair holds memories, Jae. You don’t get it.”

“Believe me, I do. I’m not excited to get my hair buzzed either.”

Your tears, hysterical and warm, Jaehyun’s dimples come out at the sight without even thinking about it.

“Please don’t make me do this.” Your lip quivers.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He pouts, but you can tell it’s ingenuine. “But either you do it or Jungwoo does it. And you saw what he did to Taeyong.”

“Can’t I just cut my hand off instead?”

That makes him burst out in laughter.

“No, you can’t. I won’t allow it.” He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Can I go in your stead?”

“I mean, you can go… but I’d still have to go too.”

“Okay.” Your voice cracks. “I’ll sign up for the military right now. We can go together.”

“No.” He pecks your nose. “You have to stay right here in our cozy home and live your regular-schmegular life from before I left so that when I come back we can pick up right where we left off. Yeah?”

“I’m gonna miss you so much…” you drop the shaver on the bathroom floor and throw your arms around Jaehyun. “Please don’t die. You can’t die. If you die, I’ll kill you. I-”

Your paranoid ramble continues, your voice getting higher and higher until you sound like the loveliest mosquito Jaehyun’s ever heard.

“I won’t.” He pulls back to see your face. “I won’t die, okay? I’ll call you whenever I can, visit as often as possible, it’ll be like I never even left.”

“But you will! You will leave and I’ll be alone and you’ll be bald.” You sob at the last word. “You’ll be bald…”

“…is that what you’ve been focusing on?”

“You look so good with long hair. You’re the handsomest man in the world but when you have your hair long you’re the most handsome guy in all of the galaxies… I’m gonna lose my boyfriend and his hair. Life is so hard.”

“I know,” he pats your head, pressing his back against the toilet for enough space to let you sit on his lap. “Life is so hard, isn’t it?”

“So hard…” You nod, wiping your tears with the back of your hands. “’m sorry, Jae. You’re the one going to the military and here I am, making a new ocean with tears.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He hums. “Think of it as crying for the two of us. I don’t think it’s set in yet that I’ll be away for almost two years—” You let out a small whimper at the reminder. “—but I’m sure I’ll cry just as much when I’m on the way. More probably.”

“I hate this.” You pull him in, digging your nose into his shoulders to take in his smell and try to imprint the moment as a core memory in your mind.

“…I always could go to prison instead.”

You groan.

“No. No prison. Just… bald.” You sigh, looking up at him and digging your fingers through his cloud-like white hair. “Just bald, egg-headed Jaehyun.”

“Hey, calm it before I buzz your head too.” He flicks your forehead with his teeth dug into his lip. “Then it won’t just be me that’s ‘egg-headed’. Honestly. Where do you come up with these things?”

“Twitter.”

“I thought you said you deleted Twitter.”

“…I lied.”

“Of course you did.” Jaehyun takes his turn now to sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You love me.”

“I do.” His gaze softens and disarms you completely.

“I love you too.” You curl yourself back into him.

“I’ll marry you. You know that, right?” He looks at you.

“…yeah. I know.”

It’s not the first time the subject has been brought up. Jaehyun is a traditional romantic, you learned this within the first three months of your relationship.

Candlelit home dinner dates, weekly sent bouquets, random appreciation sonnet-like messages. Jaehyun has always been open about his desire for matching bands and golden anniversaries. And though you might not have always wished for the same thing, as the days passed holding Jaehyun’s hand in your own, how could you not start having similar dreams?

“You can’t die.”

“I told you, baby. I’m not going to die-”

“You have to come home safely so we can get married when you come back.”

Jaehyun’s eyes light up for only a second before he smashes his lips against yours, eager and clumsy at the thought of exchanging rings. It's your first time expressing your desire to walk down the aisle so openly, a day Jaehyun sometimes felt would only happen in his dreams. His mind buzzes with ideas for the venue, his suit, your dress.

“Cut my hair,” he says, and you feel him breathe on your face.

“It’s not gonna make you enlist any faster, you know?”

“I don’t care.” He smiles.

“…alright.” You pick up the shaver off the ground.

“Why do you have so much hair?” You frown, trying to see where his hair ends and his scalp begins. “Are you a man or a beast?”

“Depends on the location. For example, if it's the bedroom-”

Bzzzt!

“Oh...” You purse your lips. “Jae.”

“…what is it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did you do…?” He whispers.

“You’re handsome enough to pull it off, I promise.”

“Oh my God.”

author's note hi ! another jaehyun request coming soon i'm just terrible at deciding on endings lololol . also, renjun is BACK injeolmis CHEER !!!!! would love to write more for renjun so lmk if that's something that interests u :>

p.s. i made a ko-fi . don't feel obligated to do anything with it, but if u ever win the lottery, like my writing, and don't know what to do with it , well . . . gestures vaguely .

#jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127 jaehyun #jeong yoonoh

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bwabys-scenarios · 10 months ago

Note

Hi bwaby ~ I’m new to your page and I love your yandere posts ^^ I’m reading the ones you’ve written for Kurapika. I saw your requests were open.

How do you think hxh yanderes would respond to their captive s/o having a panic/anxiety attacks when their captor tries to get intimate? How would they go about that?

🖤 ur work 🖤🖤🖤 thnx

Yandere!HXH respond to you panicking during intimacy

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: dubcon, panic attack, bad aftercare, forced cuddling, slight manipulation/coercion with Chrollo(it backfires), vomit in Chrollo’s, Feitan is emotionally distant, Kurapika is unstable

A/N: just a little note that none of my yanderes will ever rape the reader. I just include dubious consent because being captive blurs the lines of consent. Can you really consent when you’re captive? I don’t know, so I include it just in case, even though in my eyes reader is always consenting during these acts. I’m not comfortable with writing out rape, so this situation is the farthest I go.

characters included: Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Feitan, Illumi

Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @pannacottababy

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Kurapika

First of all, Kurapika is VERY hesitant to initiate any intimacy after he takes you away. He wants you to get used to your captivity before he starts anything.

Kurapika is also the only yandere on this list that won’t be overly pushy in terms of physical contact most if the time, and honestly he’s okay if you never love him again… even if he really wants you to love him and give him lots of affection. He knows he did something unforgivable by taking you away from your life, and he’s willing to be hated by you if it means you’ll be safe.

Now, when you do eventually initiate some kind of intimacy he is over the moon. He would do anything for you, desperate to please you and make the experience as good as possible. Kurapika wants your love, your physical touch, and he wants it willingly.

So when he initiates, kissing along your neck with his hand gently rubbing your clothed cunt, he stops immediately when you start to panic. “My angel? Are you okay?”

He’s quick to pull away and give you space. His hands shake and he feels guilt and panic rise in his own chest. Did he just ruin all of the progress the two of you had?

But you calm down after a little, and lean against him. “I… I’m sorry, I just… I got really anxious.”

He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, tentatively smoothing out your hair. “Don’t apologize… shh, just relax. We don’t have to do anything.”

Kurapika spends the rest of the night just a bit unstable, terrified that he’ll do something to upset you. He just loves you so much and he doesn’t want to lose your love and affection when he just got it back. The next day he makes sure to pamper you more than usual, and he’s almost a bit clingy… as if he’s scared he’ll lose you.

Leorio

He’s pretty handsy, though most of his touches are just affectionate in nature. When you cuddle, he has his hand in your ass or thigh, kneading at the soft flesh.

Leorio likes to have you in his lap as often as possible, where he can move you as he pleases as cover you in kisses as he holds you as close as possible.

He’s eager to get back to sex after he takes you, though he won’t push… too much. Leorio is just super clingy and you’re already sitting pretty on his lap, the only thing separating you from his is that pretty skirt you’re wearing!

It was a normal day, with you sitting in his lap after he tugged you his way. But this time, instead of the usual soft squish he’d give your thigh or kisses to your cheek or the top of your head, Leorio started moving you back and forth against the bulge firming in his pants.

You instantly froze, feeling his warm breath on your neck. When you began to panic and cry, Leorio paused for a moment. “Princess? Something wrong?”

When you started to struggle, he gently set you down. The air was thick and heavy with tension and awkward energy. He scratched the back of his neck, his boner gone. “You alright?”

You shook your head. “I… I don’t want to, Leorio… I’m scared…”

He felt his heart break a little, but he was quick to reach out and gently ruffle your hair. “Don’t be scared… I won’t… do anything to you that you don’t want…”

But it felt a bit hypocritical, considering he did steal you from your old life against your will. Leorio had standards though, and one of those was not assaulting people.

That night, he was way less clingy than usual, giving you some space and time to process things… but you joined him in bed for snuggles later.

Chrollo

He kept telling you he wanted to make your first time with him special, that he’d buy you flowers and pretty lingerie to wear. He even suggested getting a nicer hotel than usual, which was shocking because the hotels you usually stayed in with him were beyond luxurious.

So when the special night came, he took you out to a fancy dinner, letting you order whatever you wanted. You had become very complacent, accepting the fact you’d never be able to escape him… not even in death.

So you are your food, and you bathed before putting on the set of lingerie he surely paid a high price for, and sat on the bed, waiting for him to get back from a meeting with some phantom troupe members that were in town.

The wait already had you anxious, but the way he kept going on and on about how perfect he made everything and how much effort he put into this night put a lot of pressure on you to do well.

And that was on purpose. He wanted you to know just how much he had done for you… how much he craved and adored you. With him, you would be endlessly pampered and loved… all you had to do was be a good girl and do as he said.

So by the time he got back, you were already anxiously fidgeting with your lacy black lingerie, biting your lip.

Now… he didn’t want to make you anxious, just a little nervous. He thought it would be cute to see you squeak like a timid little mouse as he took you… he didn’t want you to stiffly lie down and tear up when he unbuttoned his shirt.

And he hadn’t expected you to throw up from the stress of it all.

He felt a bit guilty, you were crying and muttering apologies as he called for room service, trying to clean it up yourself. Had he instilled that much fear in you that you shook in terror at the thought of upsetting you? That’s not what Chrollo wanted… despite his sly and manipulative nature, he wanted you to genuinely love him and see him as someone that protected and took care of you.

So once you calmed down a little, he pulled you in and snuggled you, kissing the top of your head. “I..: apologize. We’ll do this at your pace.”

You couldn’t really break away from his grip… and you didn’t want to anger him, so you let him hold you close and gently rock you.

Feitan

Feitan already is absolute garbage with intimacy, so it’s rare he’ll initiate anything. He’s both insecure and emotionally distant, but also longs for your affection and physical touch.

But he also HATES physical touch… so being his darling is a confusing experience where you’re constantly walking on eggshells.

The rare instances when he tries to be intimate with you, you almost leap with joy. He’s the only other human you have physical contact with, and you’ve almost gone crazy without touch and affection.

He’s very insecure and sensitive to rejection, so when he touches you, even if it’s just subpar, you praise him endlessly with soft whimpers and moans. He’s pretty skilled with his fingers considering he was a virgin before he met you.

So when he’s got his hands on your hips and ready to push his cock into your pretty pussy, instead of the usual happy whines you make… you instead whimper and shy away from him.

He’s tortured many people, so he can recognize the signs of a panic attack easily. You don’t know what came over you, but you just started to break down, crying and rocking yourself.

Feitan froze up, not knowing what to do. He’s not used to comforting others, and he already feels the harsh sting of rejection from your reaction. Was he that bad?

But… he’s able to push that away. He puts a blanket over your naked form and gently rubs your back while looking the other way.

“… don’t have to. Just say when don’t want it.”

And that’s all you get. He doesn’t kiss away your tears or clean you up… but it’s a big step forward. For Feitan, comforting another human being is hard, so the fact he’s trying for you proves that you mean something to him.

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bitebitekxll · 2 months ago

Note

Sfw ask:

Genshin men with a sick reader headcanons

Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Ayato, can remove or add if you’d like

What they do when you’re sick

៚ Diluc ✧ Kaeya ✧ Kazuha ✧ Ayato ✧ Childe

Notes: FIRST FIC ASK LETS GOOO!! Also happy holidays everyone <3

For a character I am the least sure about characterising, Ayato’s somehow became the longest?? Fingers crossed I did him justice. Also couldn’t resist spreading my malewife Childe agenda so he’s in this too. Hope you enjoy ~

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 ᥫ᭡

Even if Dawn Winery has a whole set staff on hand, he will insist on taking care of you himself; making sure you take your medicine on time, cooking you meals, doing anything he can to ensure your work doesn’t suffer in your absence. The only way to convince him to let Adelinde handle it, is to remind him he can’t hold you if he’s running around. He’s quiet. Not his usual comfortable silence, but one that adds a weighted air to all actions as he stays vigil at your side. Diluc doesn’t like feeling helpless and hates when you’re uncomfortable so you can bet he’ll be extra fussy over you when you’re sick.

(Not to mention vigilant to ensure you don’t get sick in the first place. Going out in the rain? Not without his umbrella you’re not. Venturing into Dragonspine? What a coincidence, he happens to have business there. Yes, really. But, oh it seems they cancelled last minute so now he will of course accompany you. His pyro vision can provide better warmth than whatever few seelies you come across, so it’s only reasonable he tag along.)

You might need to literally thwack him a couple of times to get him to stop being overbearing, but you can guarantee you’ll be taken care of with all your needs attended to.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ᥫ᭡

He won’t let you lift a finger the whole time you’re recovering. It doesn’t matter if you only have a bit of a cold, he will physically pick you up over his shoulder and drag you away from work/chores/any responsibility. If someone even dares to suggest you do something while unwell— even if you make it clear you can handle it —he will mercilessly cut them down with that little bastard smile of his playing on his lips.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting our dear Y/N take care of that in this condition. After everything they’ve done for us, no one would be selfish enough to deprive them of some well-earned rest, hm?”

This man will convince the whole of Mond that you need to be spoiled when sick. Good luck doing anything without people rushing to help you with that, no no sit down, you should rest, actually why don’t we just call Sir Kaeya, I’m sure I saw him around—

He does make sure not to annoy you too much with his antics, letting you be independent when it seems like you’re reaching your limit (as long as the task isn’t too taxing) and he’ll be sure to keep you company while you’re stuck at his home.

If you do get bored of being inside he’ll take you out, but don’t expect to set a foot on the ground as long as he’s there.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 ᥫ᭡

Though he’s no physician, Kazuha is excellent at dealing with illness and injuries. He had to take care of his own by himself before joining the Crux, after all. And even now, he’s often sought out by the crew during voyages when someone needs medical attention. His calm and reassuring demeanour only further makes him the perfect candidate to be at your bedside.

After doing whatever he can to ease your symptoms, he lets you rest your head in his lap. Expect to be lulled to sleep by nimble fingers carding through your hair, and the sweet whistling tones of a leaf as Kazuha plays it for you— and you still can’t figure out how he manages to do that. He presses kisses to your forehead, your knuckles, your lips: you can remind him that your illness is contagious, but he’ll just smile and kiss you again softly.

“There is no greater honour, nor privilege I can imagine, than sharing the burdens of the one you love. Don’t fret, my dear. Let me hold the weight of all your troubles, and let me hold you, for as long as you will grant me that pleasure.”

𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ᥫ᭡

For a man who is so powerful, so composed in public, he is a complete kid with you. He would mope and whine when you tell him you’re not getting out of bed that day. He’s always so bored when you leave him on his lonesome, and even if he can’t be by your side every second he still loves knowing there’s a chance of running into you around the estate or Inazuma itself. So of course he’ll try to goad you into getting up, wanting the two of you to start the day together.

But he changes his tune the moment he realises you’re truly unwell.

Ayato doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms for the duration of your illness. It’s not like Diluc where he insists on doing the work himself, he gets the staff to bring you whatever you need according to the doctor, but only so he can dedicate all his time showering you in love and affection. You get even more attention from him while you’re sick than you usually do (a feat that should be impossible). He’s a clingy bastard and is fully prepared to let the commission suffer until you’re better, unwilling to part for even a moment while you’re in this state. (He’s lucky Ayaka and Thoma keep things running in the meantime, but you can bet he’s in for a scolding from his sister when he returns to his duties).

If you don’t like being touched while sick, he’ll just stay by your side and keep you company. But if you give him the okay? Prepare for him to take advantage of you being stuck in bed to love on you ‘til his heart’s content.

“You know… some say the best way to recover from a cold is to pass it to someone else…”

By the time you’re feeling better, the idiot’s gotten himself sick. You can lecture him about being careless all you want, he just gives you a pleased grin as he looks up at you adoringly. Naturally, he never learns his lesson.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ᥫ᭡

Will immediately panic when he sees you’re in bad shape. He’s equal parts alarmed and enraged, ready to seek vengeance on your behalf. Once he realises you’re just sick and not recovering from an attack, he’s more in his element. As a Snezhnayan, Childe is no stranger to illness. Young children, especially, are less tolerant to the cold, so he’s had plenty of experience looking after his younger siblings in that regard. He extends the same care to you: keeping a cooled wet towel on your forehead to settle your fever, cleaning your home with a frenzied determination, never allowing dust to settle and irritate your lungs.

Don’t even bother trying to eat yourself, he will feed you while you recline back on the mountain of pillows he fluffed up minutes prior. He makes the warm soup himself, but instead of the usual seafood concoctions he’s known for, it’s a much simpler, pleasant dish.

“My mother’s cure-all recipe; there’s nothing better for when you’re sick! The kids love it. In fact, Teucer’s even faked sick before just so she would make it for him, the little rascal. Try a bite, I promise you’ll be fighting fit in no time!”

Big malewife energy the whole time he’s taking care of you. He’s concerned about your health, of course, but because he’s done this before for his family he doesn’t feel panicked. Instead, he’s all warm smiles and attentive affection, making jokes to cheer you up while he keeps an eye on your condition. If you need anything from him, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.

#salemanswersathing #salemwritesathing #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #childe x reader #genshin hcs

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adumbratrapedme · 1 month ago

Text

tsukishima x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between tsukishima and reader.

wc. 3,5k words aprox. | genre. angst to fluff | cw/tags. angst to fluff, teen pregnancy mentions, etc. TW: BAD ENGLISH X,D

links: kenma | hinata | kageyama | yamaguchi | yachi(!? teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! Please read the note at the end! And make sure you reblog if you liked it heh-

General Headcanons:

╭⋅ When you first tell him, his initial reaction is complete silence. His golden-brown eyes widen for a brief second before he pushes his glasses up, avoiding eye contact. ╭⋅ His rational mind immediately jumps to practical concerns: finances, school, and future plans. ╭⋅ I also have this idea that Yamaguchi would be the first one he would go to, although we see Tsuki as someone cold, I know he trusts Yamaguchi with all his being. ╭⋅ Probably a little rude when you first break the newssz… ╭⋅ Tsukishima isn't one for grand declarations, but his actions speak volumes. He starts researching everything - prenatal care, parenting, balancing school and work. ╭⋅ Becomes incredibly protective of you. If anyone dares to judge or gossip about your situation, his glare alone is enough to silence them!!! ╭⋅ He goes out of his way to make sure you're comfortable. He'll bring you snacks, make sure you're not overexerting yourself, and even argue with doctors if he thinks you're not being taken seriously but don’t ya’ dare make a comment on it or he will deny how much he cares!! ╭⋅ Though he's still sarcastic and snarky, his teasing becomes lighter, more affectionate. You'll often catch him staring at you with a mixture of awe and worry.

The words hang in the air between you.

“I’m pregnant.” At first, Tsukishima freezes. His gaze locks onto you, and for a moment, you wonder if he even heard you. His eyes widen slightly behind his glasses, but he doesn’t speak. His silence feels suffocating. “…Say something.” Your voice trembles, barely above a whisper.

He finally shifts, letting out a harsh breath through his nose, running a hand through his blond hair.

“You’re serious?” His tone is sharp — defensive.

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Kei.”

Tsukishima stands abruptly, pacing the room like he’s trying to escape the weight of the news. His mind races. He’s always prided himself on being in control, on having a plan for everything. But this? This was never part of the plan. “We’re still kids,” he mutters under his breath. “We can’t… we can’t do this.”

His words cut deep.

“I know it’s not ideal, but… unfortunately it’s happening,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

But Tsukishima is spiraling. His insecurities — his fear of being useless, of being a failure — consume him. He feels like the scared little boy he used to be, watching his family fall apart. “What about school? What about your future?” His voice is colder now. “Do you really think this is going to work out? Do you think I’m ready to be a father?”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over.

“I didn’t expect this either, Kei. But I thought… I thought you’d at least try to be here for me.” His heart cracks at the sight of your tears. He wants to comfort you, but he’s too afraid. He’s terrified of messing everything up — terrified that he’ll hurt you or the baby. So he says nothing.

You shake your head, grabbing your bag.

“If you don’t want to be part of this, just say it. I won’t force you to stay.”

The door slams behind you, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

That night, Tsukishima doesn’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, replaying your words over and over. He called Yams a few minutes after you left to explain the situation. He ranted about his fears and admitted how he treated you. Of course, Yams was shocked by the news, but he made sure to make Tsukishima realize how rude he’d been toward you—and kind of pushed him to apologize.

The guilt gnaws at him. He knows he hurt you — knows he’s running away from his own fears. But he can’t stop thinking about you, walking through this alone, carrying his child.

The next day, he shows up at your door, like he usually would when walking to school together —except this time yams isn’t here — His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to see him, but you quickly mask your emotions.

“What do you want?” You tell him as you hang your backpack on your shoulder and close the door behind you.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. But then he steps forward, closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry.” His voice is low, almost a whisper. “I was scared.”

Your eyes soften, but you stay guarded.

“You think I’m not scared too?”He nods, guilt washing over him.

“I know. And I should have been there for you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know if I’ll be a good father. Hell, I don’t even know how to take care of myself and even our relationship sometimes. But…”

He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“I want to try. I’m not going to leave you — or the baby. We’ll figure it out. Together.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes — the vulnerability he rarely shows anyone.

“Kei…” Your voice breaks, he pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again. His arms around you feel like home, even if the future is uncertain.

“I’ll be better,” he murmurs against your hair. “For you. For our kid.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips through the tears.

“Our kid, huh?”He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression softens in a way you rarely see. “Yeah. Our kid.”

There’s still fear lingering in his heart, but for the first time, it’s outweighed by something stronger — love.

As he rests his hand gently on your stomach, a rare, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“We’re going to be okay.” And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Tsukishima isn’t perfect, and he knows the road ahead won’t be easy. But he’s determined to stay by your side, to be the partner and father you both deserve.

chan's note: hihihi soo as i said before this will be a series for all haikyuu boys, i'll try to cover all the aspects of a teen pregnancy by chapters such as: breakin the news to friends, birth, first days, etc. As for now i'll finish all karasuno's first years (and kenma) and ill continue with the second years & 3rds years.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101

if anyone else wants to be part of the taglist just tell me heh..

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steveseddie · 10 months ago

Text

go for it

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 4,6k | tags: eddie and steve have a crush, they finally do something about it, the hellfire club is there whoops, first kiss, getting together

for my stficbingo: “This is a dictatorship and I’m in charge!”

click here to read on ao3

***

“You drag yourselves out of the tunnels and find what seems to be a friendly tavern in the woods,” Eddie narrates in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over everyone sitting at the Harrington dining table. They’re all at the edge of their seats, collectively holding their breath, looking suitably daunted yet excited as they brace themselves for some other twist in the story. “The innkeeper welcomes you with warm food and offers you a place to stay. She assures you that you’re safe.”

He pauses for dramatic effect. Watches as Henderson bites his knuckles, Wheeler squeezes his eyes shut, Jeff covers his face with his hands-

“Tonight you get to rest,” he finishes with a flourish of his hand and the party sighs in relief.

“Thank God!” Gareth says, slumping back on his chair and wiping his brow where beads of sweat started gathering during the final moments of the campaign. “I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“Holy shit, me too,” Sinclair agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d been one bad die roll away from dying by the time they finally defeated the goblins that attacked them out of nowhere. “That was brutal!”

“It was fucking awesome!” Henderson says with a squeaky laugh and everyone around the table heartily agrees.

Eddie grins widely, resting his chin on one hand and doing a flourish with the other one in lieu of a bow. “Glad it pleased you, Master Nog.”

The kid flashes him a toothy smile and then he and the rest of the party start discussing tonight’s campaign- the best moments, the ones where they thought they would all die, their predictions for what will happen next week.

They’re so caught up in their conversation that they don’t notice when Eddie slips away from the table.

The Harrington house is easy to get lost in, bigger than any house Eddie has ever been to. Even after weeks of being friends with Steve and coming over for movie nights and pool parties, Eddie isn’t sure he’s seen all of it. He knows there’s a third garage somewhere and he’s only been to one of the three guest bedrooms and that was back on the first night he slept over.

(Since then, he and Steve realized that they sleep better when they have company and Eddie never saw the inside of that or any of the other guest rooms again, sharing Steve’s bed with him whenever he spends the night instead.)

Eddie has been to Harrington kitchen plenty of times though, so he makes his way there easily.

As he gets further away from his friends and their noise, Eddie’s ears pick up on the music coming from the Harrington kitchen, which further guides him in the right direction. He belatedly recognizes the song as part of the mixtape he made for Steve a couple of days ago in an attempt to improve his music taste. When he gave it to him, Steve eyed it warily (“It’s real music, Stevie, not a rabid animal, it won’t bite you!”) before shoving it into his car’s glove compartment. He didn’t bring it up since then and Eddie assumed he forgot about it. Knowing that Steve didn’t forget and he’s actually listening to it now fills Eddie’s stomach with butterflies.

Those butterflies flutter pathetically when he finally reaches the kitchen and finds Steve doing the dishes.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his hips moving with the music (not heavy metal but some soft rock that Eddie thought might be more Steve’s style while still being cool) and there’s a flowery apron tied around his waist which matches the rubber gloves he’s wearing. Both were a gag gift from the kids, Steve told Eddie the first time he saw him wearing them, one that actually turned out to be quite useful and now he wears them often.

For a moment, Eddie lingers at the kitchen doorway, giving himself a few seconds to stare at Steve, filing away how he looks for later when he’s daydreaming embarrassingly domestic fantasies of a life with Steve. Then he raps his knuckles twice on the door frame to get his attention.

(Eddie knows better than to sneak up on him now. The one time he did Steve had him pinned against a wall before Eddie could even realize what was happening. He thought it was hot more than anything, but Steve had been mortified. He spent the rest of the night apologizing and acting like a kicked puppy around him. He didn’t relax until Eddie reminded him that the first time they met, Eddie did the same thing, only he also held a broken bottle to Steve’s throat. So now they were more than even.)

Steve’s head whips around at the sound and his face lights up when he sees Eddie leaning against the door frame.

“Hey!” Steve says, grinning like he’s delighted to see Eddie. Like he missed him, like he didn’t see him less than forty minutes ago when they all took a break to have dinner. “You finished early tonight.”

Glancing at the clock on top of the fridge, Eddie realizes that Steve is right. “I figured they had enough for one night,” Eddie says, stepping into the kitchen and joining Steve by the sink. “Usually the brats would throw a fit, but I think they were actually glad this time.”

“That bad?” Steve asks with a snort.

“Wheeler rolled four nat ones in a row, Steve, four!” Eddie says, dancing in and out of Steve’s space until Steve hip-checks him out of the way with a chuckle.

“Four, huh?”

“Mhm, the odds weren’t in their favor tonight.”

“Well, it was nice of you to let them off the hook for once, Mr. Dungeon Master,” Steve says, crinkly eyes meeting Eddie’s momentarily before looking down at the sink and picking up another plate.

“I’m always nice, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Steve gives him a bitchy face. “Dude, I’m pretty sure I heard you threaten to chop off Dougie’s hand.”

“That was the goblin, not me!” Eddie protests, wagging his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Who Jeff killed shortly after, so who’s the one that isn’t nice here?”

“Right,” Steve deadpans. He takes off the rubber gloves after rinsing the last plate and picks up a dish towel to start drying. “You can always get your revenge next week I guess.”

“Oh I will, Stevie. I will,” he says, grinning manically. Oh the things he has planned. Eddie hops on top of the counter, right next to where Steve stands as he dries plates and glasses and everything else he used to make the most delicious lasagna for the party. His feet dangle from the counter and he lightly nudges Steve with one. “Hey, thanks for letting us play here. And for dinner.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me every time, right Eds?” Steve says with an exaggerated sigh, but his annoyance is downplayed by his playful smile. The lopsided one that makes Eddie want to kiss him stupid.

After Spring Break, Principal Higgins was quick to shut down Hellfire once and for all, leaving the party with no place to hold their campaigns. Eddie wasn’t surprised but like everyone else, he was pretty fucking bummed about it. No one in their party had enough space at their house to host their campaigns, and the only two that did, Wheeler and Sinclair, failed to convince their parents to let them use their basement for their alleged satanic cult gatherings.

But just when they thought their club was done for, Steve swooped in like the knight in shining armor that he is and offered up his house, which is why for the last couple of weeks they’ve been gathering at the Harrington residence where Steve not only hosts their campaigns and puts up with the noise and the mess they leave behind, but he also cooks or buys them dinner every week and makes sure to stock up his fridge with each of their favorite drinks, even indulging in Gareth’s weird obsession with Bubble Up soda because he is unreal and the nicest fucking guy Eddie knows.

So Eddie can’t not thank him every time. Contrary to what people might believe, he has manners. He also likes the pretty pink flush that covers Steve’s cheeks whenever he does it.

“Hm, I think I do,” he says, nudging Steve’s leg again. “Hellfire would be over if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart.”

“And what a tragedy that would be,” Steve jokes but aha! There it is- that pretty pink blush.

“Hey! I know for a fact that you don’t hate it as much as you pretend to,” Eddie says, shaking his finger in a reproachful manner. “You sat through the whole session last time and didn’t even yawn once!”

Last week, Dustin begged and pleaded so that Steve would sit and watch their campaign instead of retreating to the kitchen or his bedroom. Steve held his ground admirably until Eddie joined in on Dustin’s pleas, batting his eyelashes and pouting exaggeratedly until he caved, sighing in defeat and sitting down next to Eddie. He didn’t expect Steve to make it through the whole thing, but he did and while he did look a little confused at times and complained that there was way too much math involved, he also seemed to actually enjoy himself.

Steve shifts from one foot to the other and bites his lip. “Yeah, I guess, but that’s because I was watching you the whole time,” he shyly says.

Eddie blinks. “Me?” He remembers Steve’s eyes on him while he led the campaign, but he didn’t think much of it then. But now Steve’s shy admission that he enjoyed himself because he was watching Eddie makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Flushing deeper, Steve keeps his eyes on the glass that he’s drying, not meeting Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Yeah, you, uh. You’re very good at doing those voices and you know, drawing people into your stories. It’s, um, fascinating.”

Fascinating. No one’s ever used that word to describe Eddie before. He can’t help the way his breath catches when Steve Harrington of all people calls him that.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” he stammers out, feeling his own cheeks match Steve’s flush. “And here I thought you were going to say I’m just pretty to look at,” he adds with a slightly shaky laugh.

And that’s what he expects Steve to do- laugh it off. Instead, he finally meets Eddie’s eyes and says, “Well, that too.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. Holy shit.

Steve does laugh then but not because it was a joke. He laughs at Eddie’s reaction which consists of him gaping like a fish because Steve Harrington just called him fascinating and pretty.

And it’s not that Steve hasn’t given him compliments before or hasn’t flirted with him before. He plays along most of the time- sometimes with a playful smirk and sometimes with that baffled puppy look that Eddie saw for the first time after calling him “big boy”.

The thing is he’s never flirted like this- shyly, without a hint of a joke. And it’s-

Well, it’s a lot.

But if Eddie learned anything after Spring Break is to roll with whatever the universe throws at him, which in this case isn’t an army of hell bats or an apocalypse, but Steve Harrington finally, maybe, possibly making a move. Something that Eddie has been waiting for after weeks of the two of them dancing around each other.

He couldn’t see it at first, or rather he refused to, afraid to get his hopes up only for his heart to break when he turned out to be wrong. But there are things that not even his cynical eyes can ignore. The way Steve gravitates towards Eddie in any group setting or the way Eddie catches him staring when he thinks he isn’t looking like last week when they went swimming at the quarry and Eddie took off his shirt or like two weeks ago when Eddie tied his hair up to keep it off his face while he played his guitar. Or the way Steve’s eyes seem to dart to Eddie’s lips constantly when he talks and the way he can’t go more than a day without seeing him before he’s knocking on Eddie’s door to spend time with him.

It would be slightly easier to ignore all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie acts the same way when it comes to Steve. And Eddie is halfway in love with the guy, so. It makes him wonder.

But despite all of this, Eddie still hasn’t made a move. Steve either. Until now maybe.

Eddie clears his throat, finally finding his words. “Well, as entertaining as it must’ve been to watch me.” He grins. “You’ll have more fun if you actually play with us. Maybe next time I can finally convince you to join.”

Hazel eyes narrow at him. “If I play, will you threaten to cut off my hand too?”

“Nah, I promise to go easy on you since it’s your first time.” He winks and Steve’s eyes widen, the blush from before making a wonderful return.

“I- I haven’t said yes-”

“Yet.”

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.”

“Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.”

Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh.

“There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.”

Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is.

“You’re right,” Steve says, and in one quick movement, he pushes himself away from the counter and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Holy fuck. “There’s one thing.”

Anticipation bubbles up in Eddie’s stomach. “Yeah? What- what is it?” He asks with a suddenly dry throat.

Steve ducks his head, glancing at Eddie through his eyelashes. “A kiss from the Dungeon Master?” He asks in a shy whisper.

Eddie stares at him for a second, lips parted in surprise because goddamn shitting fuck. Then-

“Not the goblin?” He asks in his stupid goblin voice. Like a fucking loser.

As soon as he blurts it out he slaps a hand against his face. “Fucking Christ, I can’t believe I just did that. That was so lame. I’m just fucking nervous, sorry.”

Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, lowering his hand. His eyes are sparkling with fondness. “Don’t be, it’s cute,” he says with a soft chuckle.

A nearly hysterical giggle bubbles up in Eddie’s throat but it abruptly cuts off when Steve places his hands on Eddie’s thigh and leans in.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna give me that kiss or what?” Steve asks oh so sweetly.

And Eddie doesn’t waste a moment after that, he finally goes for it. He cups Steve’s cheeks and tugs his face closer, pressing their mouths together, feeling his chest explode with warmth as he thinks finally and pinch me and holy fucking shit.

The kiss is sweet and slow. It starts a little tentative, just lips slotting together, Steve’s bottom lip fitting perfectly between Eddie’s. But then something shifts- Steve’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist, his thumbs digging into his hip bones while Eddie’s fingers find their way to Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, tangling with the soft strands, tugging on them. The last one makes Steve’s mouth fall open in a gasp, just enough for Eddie to press in, catching Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to earn himself a small whine. Then he lets it go, easing his tongue across Steve’s lip and licking into his mouth.

He loses track of anything else that happens when Steve’s own tongue licks into his mouth in return.

After a while the kiss softens again, turning into something slow and tender until it comes to a natural stop, once they can’t ignore the need to breathe anymore.

Steve pulls back but Eddie doesn’t let him go far, keeping a firm hold on the lapels of his dorky polo shirt. “Definitely worth my while but-”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” Steve says, his red, wet, well-kissed lips stretching into a wicked grin. “I think I’m gonna need more convincing.”

Eddie grins back. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

He tugs Steve closer again and he comes willingly, sighing happily when their lips slot together once more. God, Eddie is so fucked. They’ve kissed once and he’s already addicted to kissing Steve. He’s convinced that he could stay like this forever, lazily making out with him on his kitchen counter, tongues exploring, hands wandering.

And he probably would’ve- if a shrill voice didn’t make them jump apart.

“What the hell is going on here!” Dustin yells.

Steve whirls around so fast he almost faceplants on his kitchen floor and Eddie jumps back and hits his head against one of the upper cupboards.

He lets out a string of creative curses as he rubs the back of his head, seeing black spots when he opens his eyes. Despite those, he can still see the whole party standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at them with expressions ranging from utter shock (Sinclair and Henderson) to disgust (Wheeler) to smugness (Jeff, Gareth, Dougie, and weirdly enough, Erica).

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly as he tries to find his words, but there’s no lying their way out of this one and they both know it. They were just caught with their tongues down each other’s throats and Eddie’s hands on Steve’s ass.

“Well?” Dustin prompts in a bitchy tone.

“I was, uh, convincing Steve to join D&D next week,” Eddie says, which is, technically, the truth.

Gareth snorts, raising an eyebrow. “With your tongue?”

Eddie gives a gleeful laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Eddie,” Steve hisses, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“That’s gross!” Wheeler cries, his face scrunching up which is rich coming from him, Eddie thinks, considering he saw him sucking face with El more times than he would’ve liked in the short time she was in Hawkins after everything. So he knows Wheeler has nothing against kissing and it makes him wonder if he might have something against Eddie kissing a boy, or boys kissing boys in general and Eddie loves the kid, he loves all of them but he will sit him down for some tough love if he happens to not be okay with-

There’s a slapping sound as Erica smacks him upside the head.

“Ouch!”

“Not cool, butthead,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Wheeler. “Boys can kiss boys too.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth tugs up in a smile. Just like that, she’s currently his favorite.

“What?” Wheeler asks, rubbing the back of his head. “I know that. I don’t care that Eddie wants to kiss guys, I care that he wants to kiss Steve!”

“Hey!” Steve protests with an affronted frown.

“Eddie is cool and Steve is so lame! And he’s my sister’s ex!” He says with extra snark.

Eddie can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Steve’s head snaps in his direction, his offended expression now directed at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says between giggles. He clears his throat and gives Wheeler a stern face. It’s a much different scolding than the one he thought he would be giving him just a few moments ago and he’s grateful for that. “Steve isn’t lame. Yes, his music taste is shit and he owns more polo shirts than an 80-year-old-”

“Dude, are you defending me or helping Mike insult me?” Steve mumbles with a pout.

“But!” Eddie says, ignoring him. “He’s also badass and he’s saved your sorry asses multiple times and he’s nice enough to let you pipsqueaks eat his food and trash his house every week and he’s hot as fuck, so. Show some respect, Wheeler.”

Mike’s face scrunches up. “What does Steve being hot have to do with anything? Ew!”

But before Eddie can reply to that, Dustin takes a step forward, looking between the two. “So this is a thing now? Are you guys a thing?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at them.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look, both of them trying to communicate the same thing- do you want to be a thing? Steve gives him a sheepish smile and a nod, and in response, Eddie wraps his arms and legs around him, essentially hanging off of Steve’s back like a koala and trapping him against the counter. “Yes, Henderson. We are, as you so eloquently put it, a thing.”

Eddie expects more outrage, but Dustin nods solemnly. “Okay, cool. Just- no flirting at the D&D table. And no kissing!” There are nods and noises of agreement from the rest of the party.

Eddie lets out an indignant squeak. “Excuse me, this is a dictatorship and I’m in charge! And the Dungeon Master decides that there will be kissing, butthead,” he announces, and then to prove a point, he smacks a sloppy kiss against Steve’s cheek.

There’s a lot of groaning and whining and fake-gagging.

“Dude, it’s like watching my parents kiss,” Sinclair says and Henderson nods, rubbing at his eyes like it physically hurt him to see Eddie kiss Steve.

Eddie rolls his eyes- and they call him dramatic.

“Fine, fine, no kissing,” he says and sees Steve pout out of the corner of his eye. “But I won’t be deprived of the joy of flirting with one Sir Stephen.”

Steve leans back against Eddie’s chest, twisting his neck to arch an eyebrow at him. “Sir Stephen?”

“I’ve been working on your character sheet for weeks,” Eddie says with a grin. And it’s true, he had the feeling that he would be able to convince Steve to play and he wanted to be ready. If he’d known a kiss was all it took to do it, he would’ve done it much sooner.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” Steve mumbles, but there’s a smile teasing at his lips. Eddie shrugs, nuzzling his face against Steve’s shoulder.

“Fine!” Dustin groans, reminding Eddie that he and Steve aren’t alone. “As long as you stay in character.”

Eddie grins wickedly, already looking forward to flirting with Steve through all his characters, even the goblin.

“Anyway,” Jeff says, clapping his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “We were on our way out. We would offer to take the kiddos home, but Dougie’s piece of shit car won’t fit them all.” Dougie protests with a “Hey!” that they all ignore.

Usually, Eddie doesn’t mind driving the kids around, but right now, a part of him does wish that he could stay a little longer with Steve. The other part can’t wait to get home so he can scream into a pillow.

“Nah, I got it. Gentleman, lady, grab your things, we’ll head out in a second,” he says, making shooing motions with his hands.

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “He just wants more time to make out with Steve,” he mutters as they all start to pile out of the kitchen.

“Correct, Sinclair!”

He and Wheeler make gagging noises, earning a shove from Erica as she follows them. Yeah, she’s definitely his favorite.

Henderson lingers on the doorway.

“Any other rules you wish to impose on us, Master Nog?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dustin shakes his head, curls bouncing. “No, I’m just- I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh,” he exhales softly, touched by the kid’s words.

“Thanks, Henderson,” Steve says, and he sounds touched too.

“Yeah, thanks, kid.”

“And I love you both, but if you get divorced, I will pick sides.” And with one final narrow-eyed look, he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Which side?” Eddie asks, but the little shit pretends he doesn’t hear him. “Henderson! Which side?” His shoulders slump. “Brat.”

“Too bad we’re never gonna find out,” Steve says, turning around to face Eddie without dislodging his arms or legs that are still wrapped around him.

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. “Never? That’s presumptuous of you,” he says, echoing his words from before.

Steve shrugs. “I just know I don’t plan to break up with you- or divorce you like the kid said.”

Oh yeah, Eddie definitely needs a pillow to scream into right about now. “Um, yeah, me neither, so I guess we’re stuck together.”

Steve nods with a dopey smile. “And we’ll never know who Dustin would’ve picked.”

There’s a short silence.

Then, “He would’ve picked me,” they both say at the same time.

Steve squawks. “Me!”

“No, me!”

“I’ve known him longer!”

“He thinks I’m cooler!”

And so on until Eddie gets tired of arguing and shuts Steve up with a kiss. Before they can deepen it though, they’re once again interrupted by the kids.

“Eddie!” Dustin yells.

“Stop sucking face and let’s go!” Wheeler adds and Eddie can’t see him, but he knows his nose is scrunched up in disgust.

“We’re gonna be late!” Sinclair adds, urgently, and Erica mhm’s in agreement.

Eddie throws his head back with a groan. “Jesus H. Christ! They’re so annoying.”

“They are,” Steve chuckles, brushing their noses together. “Hey, you wanna come over tomorrow? We can work on that character thing together. Just you and me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, lips parted in awe. Steve and D&D? There must be hearts in his eyes right now or bursting out of him like he’s a cartoon. “You’re offering to do nerdy shit with me? God, you’re a dream, Jesus Christ!” He says, hands coming up to cup either side of Steve’s face and peppering kisses all over it- his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and finally, his lips.

Steve giggles. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says with a grin.

Steve wraps his arms around his neck. “And since the kids won’t be there I expect there to be kissing and flirting.”

Eddie inches closer, smirking. “Hm, you can count on it, sweetheart.”

This time they don’t even get to kiss before the kids are yelling again, this time in unison. “Eddie!”

Eddie lets go of Steve’s waist and slaps his hands against his face. “Motherfucker!” He groans. Then louder, “I’m coming!”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh as Eddie hops down from the counter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie tells him.

Steve gives him another dopey smile- or rather the same one since it hasn’t left his face at all. “Can’t wait.”

Eddie sweeps in for a quick kiss, one that the kids can’t interrupt, marveling for a second at the fact that he can simply do that now. Then with a final tug to Steve’s flowery apron, he skips out of the kitchen, turning around at the doorway to look at Steve one last time. He’s leaning against the counter, smile firmly plastered on his face and looking at Eddie like-

Well, exactly like Eddie is looking at him. Lovestruck, he thinks comes close to describing it. And ain’t that something.

He gives Eddie one of those little finger waves, and in return, Eddie blows him a kiss. Steve’s cheeks turning pink is the last thing he sees before he leaves the kitchen and joins the kids in the living room.

“Okay, shitheads!” He says, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Which one of you am I sending home walking?”

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stficbingo #yet another getting together fic because i love them clearly #this one featuring the hellfire club #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

480 notes · View notes

weirdsht · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, a cale x reader lunatic here 😭

They meet a fortune teller pre-relationship and pre-war

They're idiots

FT: you're going to have 10+ kids

Cale: uhh...

Reader: wtf is you spouting? /*Terrified

Ohn, Hong, Raon, and the wolf children: 🫂

Selective Vacuous - Cale/Reader

notes: I made it a 4+1 since I had several scenarios but didn't know how to connect them all hehe

tags: female reader, established relationship (except the first one), reader is mentioned to be a spearman, GoD priestess prophet (it'll make sense in the end), vague to mild novel spoilers

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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“You will meet someone. A male. They will mean the world to you, and will bring you both trouble and comfort.”

“Miss priestess, you’re from the church of the God of Death, right? Don’t you think things like fortunes are for the God of Fate?”

_____ listened to the priestess’ ramblings. Yes, ramblings. Because that does not make sense to the spearman in the slightest. She was already married to her spear. There’s no way someone, especially a man, will suddenly become her whole world.

It just didn’t seem possible possible.

That was why the spearman did not understand the painful feeling in her chest when she saw Cale’s plate breaking. She couldn’t understand why her heart hurt for a person she just regarded as her employer.

“Everything is going to be fine soon young master. So please hold on a little longer.”

She couldn’t understand why her hands were softly wiping the blood on the redhead’s chin. Can’t understand why the sight of her employer in pain makes her heartache when she knows he's going to be alright.

She just can’t understand it.

+~+~+~+~+~+

“You have thirteen children. Whom you all love equally despite not seeing some of them often.”

“Do you think this is an elaborate prank?”

“I’m not sure but this the second time someone from the Church of the God of Death has given me a prophecy…”

“But 13 children? Really? If they're going to try and scam us at least make it sound believable.”

“I can’t even imagine having one child. Let alone more than ten.”

_____ shivered at the thought of having that many children with her significant other Cale. Turns out their chest pains were because she was in love with the redhead.

It took a whopping 5 months for the two of them to realise their feelings.

Another 2 for them to make a move and finally get together.

While the two are already in agreement that the priestess who said that might be a swindler, a certain silver kitten has another opinion.

She thinks that there’s a misunderstanding.

The priestess didn’t say “will have” but rather said “have”, meaning they already have thirteen children. However, she didn’t say anything and opted to keep her thoughts to herself.

'I’m pretty sure that priestess was talking about us and the wolf children…'

+~+~+~+~+~+

“You are destined to be with a powerful man with a very powerful family. Someone whose family has a long history.”

What now?

Does this mean one day _____ and Cale must break up?

“The family with a long history part checks out since the Henituse family are known to guard the Forest of Darkness.”

The spearman puts her hands underneath her chin as she thinks.

“But a powerful man? You have the weakest plate in existence. A powerful family? The Henituse family is a county. Not a Marquisate or a Duchy…”

Besides her Cale grumbled.

“Have you not learned anything? Just tune it out. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard such bullshit.”

“That’s true… I guess this one bothered me a bit since they implied we’d break up.”

“We won’t”

After the reassurance, _____ and Cale went back to eating their food.

What they don’t know is that a few days later, the Henituse County will be promoted to become the Henituse Duchy.

But at that time the prophecy told to _____ is already forgotten.

+~+~+~+~+~+

“Forbidden love is ahead of you. There will be a time where your own significant other will feel uncomfortable to show you affection.”

Great now the fortune teller scammers from that stupid church are targetting Cale too.

“But we’ve had great communication since the start of our relationship.”

Cale nodded in agreement as he thought about what could “forbidden love” and “uncomfortable with affection” could mean.

Sure they weren’t the most PDA couple but they don’t shy away from showing affection towards each other. They have also had their fights but they are always quickly resolved.

“Forbidden love is also a weird thing to say… Oh my god, Cale don’t tell me you’re planning to cheat on me?!”

Cale was so flabbergasted he said his true thoughts without filter.

“What the fuck?! You’re literally the love of my life??”

The sudden confession got the two of them to shut up. Both were shocked at what the redhead said.

“...You’re the love of my life too.”

“If you love me then you would not remind me of the embarrassing thing I said not even 5 minutes ago.”

As the two laugh, the words of the priestess slowly leave their minds.

However, maybe they shouldn’t have forgotten it when Cale had to disguise himself as Naru von Ejellan, a 12-year-old kid in human years. If they did then maybe they'd understand the priestess' words...

+~+~+~+~+~+

“You troublesome punk! I knew you’re dense but I didn’t expect you to be a blockhead!”

Cale was shocked at Team Leader Lee Soo Hyuk’s irritated voice. One moment they were talking about passing on one of the team leader’s abilities then suddenly he was yelling at Cale.

“Don’t look at me like a gaping fish out of water. I did so much to help you with your love life only for you to disregard my messages!”

“What messages..?”

Cale remembered all the times a priestess from the Church of the God of Death had told them a “prophecy”.

“That was you?”

“You disrespectful punk, yes it was me.”

“Oh…”

Oh indeed

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

Text

MAKE YOU STAY / EDDIE DIAZ

PAIRING: Dark!Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your attempt to leave Eddie won’t work, because he won’t let them, or you.

WARNINGS: Obsession, guilt trip, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content, manipulation gaslighting & entrapment.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3K Words

A/N: Happy season 7 launch!! I got inspired slightly by @megalony and her new Dark Evan series go check it out!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Life with Eddie use to be everything you could ever dream of. Whether it be slow mornings getting ready together, sharing a shower and helping Chris get ready. Or an absolute hurricane ripping through your home whilst the three of you stumble over each other to get ready after a sleep in.

No matter the time of day, you loved whatever you were doing, as long as they were by your side.

And Eddie’s protectiveness use to be just another aspect of your relationship you loved, until you opened your eyes.

It use to be small, his anger.

An incessant colleague reaching out for tips and aid in a new project, you being a senior member meaning it wasn’t uncommon for people to reach out to you. You were one of the best workers at the company, well respected and loved as well as brilliant. And always willing to help someone in need.

He use to love that about you. Until it followed you home.

Chris was currently at a friends house, leaving the two of you to an inside date night, “Now on what planet would I ever sit and watch four movies with the title ‘Die Hard’. You sure as hell can’t die that many times.” Eddie shook his head as you refilled each of your respective glasses.

“Sure you can, just ask Chimney.” You gasped before swatting Eddies arm, “Be nice! And put on our show.” The murmuring voices of your favourite characters was more than enough to lull you into his arms, content washing over you. Your ringing phone however, was ready to disturb the peace Eddie had longed for all day.

“Let me just grab this.” His hand scooped your phone up before you could, “Just get it later.” His dismissive tone made you frown, “Give me my phone, please.” You leaned over to snatch it, walking into the hallway. Eddie couldn’t help but massage his temple, did you seriously chose a phone call over peace and quiet in his arms?

He hadn’t noticed how often you picked up your phone, until it interrupted him. It happened often. When the two of you were cooking together, soft music and ambience long forgotten. Almost falling asleep, cuddling, and out of the blue the world was falling apart without you. Eddie thought he could handle it, you were needed, that wasn’t your fault, right? But what he also couldn’t handle was the secretive nature.

Why did you always walk away? Were you hiding something?

And now you were coming home later, clanging into the house at 11, or 12. Sometimes even later. “Where were you?” Eddie stood by the door as you hung your jacket, “Jesus, you scared me E.” His arms were crossed, shoulders tense as you made your way to him, a smile too wide for his liking. “Work ran late, m’ sorry.” As you walked away, his hand caught onto your wrist.

“Ow, let go.” Eddies grip loosened as you retracted your arm, soothing it, “What is your problem?” You looked up to view a sweet smile, “Nothing, just worried about you. When you didn’t call, I got so scared. This world, it’s scary Y/n, you know that, especially during these times.”

Your eyes watered involuntarily at his saddened demeanour, “Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry, I should’ve called. That’s my fault, forgive me?” Your arms came around his neck, before trailing down to his chest, playing with his name tag. “I forgive you, I can also think of a way you can make it up to me.”

His smile was mischievous, and intentions impure. “Oh? And what would that be Mr Diaz?” His hand was heavy on your back and slithering lower by the second, “I think we have an appointment with a bed tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow, so do you.”

“Cmon, for me?” His eyes were pure evil, and you were more than happy to give in, even if you were tired. Really damn tired, but he wanted you, so you should give in right? You did give him a fright. “Take me away Diaz.”

If you’d noticed the signs earlier, maybe you could’ve gotten away. His jealousy, when it did rear its head, was an ugly shade of green.

A late night, again.

Eddie had been by the door for 10, sitting for 20, pacing the kitchen and stress-eating for another 10 before he finally settled into bed. Wide awake of course. The opening of his bedroom door caused him to stir. He watched as you slowly moved around, placing your stuff away, putting your phone on charge and then changing.

He sat upright as you yelped, “Eddie! You scared me, again! Why are you sitting in the dark?” His face was drained of warmth, skin cold to the touch. “Was waiting for you, again.” You frowned at his words, “Baby, you know I’m late these days. Better for you to go to sleep than wait up.” He shook his head, burying his head into your stomach as his body relaxed. Your hands raked through his hair gently, “I think you should consider working from home.”

Your hands stopped in their tracks, working from home? The last time you worked from home was during lockdown, and you’d driven yourself half mad. “Why is that?” Eddie glanced up at you, “You’re barely home, Chris misses you, I miss you. Don’t you want to be with us?” You took a deep breath in before smiling, “Of course I do. I- I’ll see what I can do baby.”

His hands quickly dragged you into bed, “Knew you’d understand amor.” Eddie rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hands slowly making their way underneath your shirt.

“Sweetie, I’m tried.”

“I missed you.” You relented, letting him continue. It seemed to be all you were doing these days, bending backwards and over to please him, literally.

The first time you noticed his behaviour was also when you realised you needed space. Not that he’d give it to you. A new coworker, Harry, had invited not only yourself, but your friend Aleya and Jack out to lunch.

He was a nice guy, very eager to learn and never scared by a little constructive criticism. The only problem was probably his overbearing cologne, very pungent? Intense?

You’d also been driven to work that day, courtesy of your boyfriend. You were working shorter days now, completing about an hour or two of work at home now. It had taken some adjusting, after a few forgetful days and about a million texts from Carla with an impatient Chris at home waiting for you.

You spotted Eddies truck pull up as you wrapped up your conversation with the your three lunch goers, “And that’s me, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Thank you so much for lunch!” You reached out to Aleya for a side hug, the same for Jack and a normal hug for Harry. “Tell Eddie there’ll be a fire at my house later tonight, and he better bring Evan!” Jack joked as you waved him off.

Jack may or may not have a huge crush on Evan.

You hopped in, quickly chucking your purse and files into the back seat before kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Hi! How was Chris’s school?” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Fine.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his shortness, “Something wrong?” He turned onto the highway, knuckles tightly gripping the wheel, “You smell like him.”

“Like who? Harry?”

“That his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s actually his father’s, middle name Jesus. Care for some wine Eddie?” Not once, had Eddie ever been physical. But raising his voice? Oh that was fair game.

“You think you’re funny huh? Having lunch with other guys and taking the piss outta me?”

“Nothing happened baby, it was lunch. He’s new and trying to fit in and I’m being nice. There’s nothing to worry about I swear.” The silence permeated in the truck, causing the hair on your arms to raise. You hated the silent treatment wholeheartedly.

“Whatever.”

His change in demeanour could flip like a switch, you always assumed it was him putting up a front. But when Eddie showed up the next day, flowers in hand and looking his sharpest, you were forced to reevaluate. “God I wish my boyfriend was that sweet.” Your project partner whispered as you sighed, “That’s Eddie.”

Even your boss wanted you to go with him, “Take the day off sweetie, you deserve it.” And with a pat on the back and a million swooning interns drooling over Eddie, you were sent on your way.

“I got these for you Y/n/n.” Your favourite flowers, arranged perfectly and smelling divine. Your hands wrapped around the bouquet, “Thank you Eddie, they’re perfect.” His smile caused your heart to race, he looked amazing. The Eddie with you that day was incredible.

His infectious laughter, perfect smile and the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear. That, was the Eddie Diaz you knew and loved. A gentleman, who had eyes for only you. Which is why you couldn’t help but wonder, what made him change? How was it possible to go from absolutely furious and unnecessarily jealous to an angel?

You didn’t want to know, and you didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

Maybe it was the date, or the fact that you felt as if he deserved an explanation face to face. Either way, if you’d known better, you would have made it away.

“Eddie, we have to talk.” The two of you were currently sitting on the couch, favourite show playing in the background. Eddie hummed along, a slight acknowledgment to your words. “It’s, about us.” Eddie turned the volume down, your sentence piquing his interest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think, we should break up.”

And with six words, Eddies entire world came crashing down in front of him. What on earth were you talking about? “What did you say?” The smile on Eddies face was anything but sweet or reassuring, a bad attempt at keeping his composure. “You’ve been acting, odd, to say the least.” You stood from the couch as he followed in pursuit, all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like, all that we’re doing lately is either fighting or sleeping. Every time I come home, you have something to say. Whether it’s about my later nights, about who I was with or what I’m doing on the phone. It’s like I have no privacy at all. I cannot keep a single thing to myself. And if I try to? You blow up at me. I mean last week for example, I tried my hardest to not argue with you by walking away. And all you did was follow me around the house, it drove me crazy. Showing up to my workspace when I tell you I can get more done without random lunch dates. I’m a grown adult but you treat me like a child. And if I stand up for myself I’m cheating. It makes no sense at all Eddie. And I tried to make it work, but I feel like you’re controlling me. I even reduced my hours, because you asked. I moved in even when I wasn’t ready, because you asked. I need a break.” You took a deep breath after your monologue, needing a second.

Turning towards Eddie, he stared straight at you. “I had no idea you felt that way baby. I’m so sorry, I never meant to do any of it. I love you so much, I can’t help but worry. After everything we’ve been through with Shannon,” And there it was, the guilt. It was blinding, clawing its way through you. Shannon. He’d already lost someone he loved, and Chris lost his mother. No wonder he was always to protective over you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving like Shannon okay? What happened was a tragic accident, and I promise nothing like that is going to happen again Eddie.” You immediately engulfed in a hug, his head resting against yours, “I don’t want to loose you, I don’t want Chris to loose you.” Eddie muttered repeatedly as you closed your eyes.

Chris walked into the room, thirsty, tired and curious, “Is something wrong?” You immediately detached yourself from Eddie, wiping away your tears, “Nothings wrong sweetie, did you need something?” He nodded before turning around and walking to his room, “We’ll talk later yeah?” Eddie whispered into your ear before moving ahead.

Sniffles came from underneath Christopher’s blanket, “You alright buddy?” Eddie asked, patting his hair down, “Water.” You watched as Eddie swiftly made his way to the kitchen whilst you sat down, “You need anything else?” Chris’s hand slowly lowered the blanket before smiling your way, “No thanks mum.”

And as quickly as he spoke, he turned over to sleep again. Your eyes were probably protruding out of your head, shock filling your senses. “Mum?” The word sounded foreign on your lips, but apparently comfortable enough on Chris’s.

“He called you mum.” Eddies voice was low, most likely as astounded as you based on the look on his face. You got up slowly, aware of the sleeping boy. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss his forehead before making your way to Eddie. “I can’t believe it.” Eddies hand came up to wipe away the stray tears before pulling you in and kissing your forehead, “I can.”

“You’re apart of this family baby, always have been.” His words seeped in as he guided you to your bed, whilst you were stuck on autopilot. Chris viewed you as a parent to him, that’s how common you were in his life now, a constant for him to fall back on. He loved you, almost as much as you loved him. Your words weren’t forgotten just swirling in your head, how the hell could you ask for a break now? With this new huge responsibility?

Eddie knew, of course he knew. He was the one encouraging Chris to call you by your new name. Because if there’s one thing Eddie knew he needed, besides Chris?

It’s you, and he’d do anything to make you stay.

#yandere 911 x reader #911 x reader #eddie diaz x fem!reader #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #911 fic #dark!eddie diaz x reader

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farfromstrange · 6 days ago

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@fairydust022 (Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason) thank you so much for your request! I’m sorry it took so long, but you gave me a lot of leeway with this, so I wasn’t sure what to write that you might enjoy until I ultimately settled on just very ‘I love you so much my heart bleeds for you’ morning sex. That’s my favorite kind of daisies and roses bouquet. I hope this is at least a little like what you were hoping for!

Over a Cliff

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Request: A bouquet of… peonies, daisies and roses

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, morning sex, neck-holding (not choking), lots of tooth-ache inducing talk about love, fluff (but the deep, emotional kind)

WC: ~740

The air you breathe is heavy and tainted with the scent of sex. Blood rushes through your veins at hypersonic speed, so thick it sticks to your insides like super glue. His heart hammers against your back, syncing with the erratic rhythm of your own, and with every thrust of his hips, he melts into you like hot iron.

Matt reaches for your hand, his calloused fingers so gentle against your sensitive skin. Your fingers disappear underneath his, intertwined fingers tangling in the silk sheets.

You could write sonnets about how the morning sun caresses the thirteen freckles on his nose, or how his hazel eyes sparkle with just the slightest hint of forest green. You’re no poet, not even a writer, but he makes you want to put all of your feelings into an anthology. How he feels, how he sees you in a way that exceeds his lost vision, how he puts his palm against your chest—right there—to hold your heart in his hand when he makes love to you, how he kisses you with those plump lips you once could only dream about as if you are the only source of air that sustains him; he loves you so deeply, so wholeheartedly and unconditionally it is beyond scary, and yet it consumes you. From your head to your toes, his love consumes you.

Teeth scrape the nape of your neck, over your pulse point to your earlobe, and you let out an almost desperate moan. He used to fuck you harder than that. He used to bend you over and force an indentation of your naked body into the mattress. And he’d do it, probably, if it weren’t eight in the morning—if you weren’t still half asleep and so fucking needy for each other that he couldn’t help himself but have a taste of his favorite angel. Because that’s what you must be, an angel of the lord. There is no other way someone as good as you would ever choose him, someone he often claims is a lost cause, even if that’s not what you see.

“There is no me without you,” you once said to him. He was bloody and bruised then, head tilted up at you like he couldn’t fathom why you stayed, why you were still staying. “Let me love you,” you begged, “because you deserve to be loved, and I am right here. So, please...”

And against all odds, he did.

When you look at him, you see a man who’s been broken. A man you’ve had the pleasure of putting back together. And a man who knows better than anyone to destroy you in a way that leaves you aching for his cock for days because that’s how he loves you.

Matt loves you with fleeting touches, when he puts his head on your chest, when he hugs you, and with your fingers intertwined, but he also loves you just like this, with his cock so deep inside you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk the next day.

He moves at a pace that’s almost too agonizingly slow, his cock nestled comfortably inside your wet cunt. He pulls his hips back, about halfway, then thrusts back in. It’s like you were molded to accommodate him. His thick, veiny cock, the very object of your pleasure whenever he takes you like this, fills every inch of you like he was born to do it. “I love you,” he whispers.

You squeeze his hand, once for every word you utter, “I love you.”

His thrusts falter. “Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes you crane your tired neck to look at him. His unfocused eyes are squeezed shut, and he damn near shudders when you reach back to tangle your free hand in his tousled locks. “Never,” you whisper.

You made this promise before, and you intend to keep it.

You’d die for him. You’d live for him. You’d go to the ends of the earth for and with him, and you would follow him over a cliff if that is where the road leads him.

As if reading your thoughts, he drives the point home by thrusting back in. The breath dies in your throat where his hand now comes to rest. He feels your pulse, the vibration of your vocal cords as you moan for him, and he continues to hold you like the unwavering pillar of strength he is as you fall apart, writhing—crying—on his cock.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #daredevil #charlie cox #lizzi’s birthday bouquets 2025!

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fearcvlt · 14 days ago

Note

not sure if you've received your first request yet so here i am. :3

recently, i've been going feral over Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes. he's all i've been thinking about. i've found little to no fics of him before he was sent off to war. and i'd really enjoy reading about handsome, heartbreaking Bucky in his early days.

go crazy, interpret this as you wish.

- 🥨

note. um... this was supposed to be a little drabble but i got a tiny bit carried away. i hope you enjoy it though !! my first request, yippeee <3 also sorry the lead up is cut so short... i realised i suck at writing flirting dialogue... thank u @dollfacefantasy for giving it a lil read in early stages :3 tags. nsfw, mdni. set in the early 40s (which idk a lot about so excuse that). showgirl!reader. sergeant!bucky. p in v. pullout method. pet names. pussyjob(?) briefly. no use of y/n. 1k words.

Being overseas for such long periods of time puts a different kind of strain on Bucky. He wouldn’t consider himself the sentimental type, but he’s glad to be back home.

Damn, he’s feeling especially patriotic right now. Got a whole group of pretty girls dancing onstage as he sips from his glass of whiskey, reclining casually in one of the shitty seats in the bar. Yeah, it’s real good being back home.

You’re a sweet looking thing, especially for someone wearing so little clothes. He ain’t used to seeing girls walk around in shit like that, but you are a performer. If this is the kind of thing that gets soldier morale up, Bucky’s all for it. Gotta be better than the shit he’s seen Rodgers doing when performing.

You’re the kind of girl his ma would’ve loved — god rest her soul. Too sweet for a place like this, and certainly too sweet for the thoughts running around in his head. It’s been a long time since he’s been back home, and it’s been even longer since he’s seen so much skin. Bucky knows how to treat a girl right, but he’s only a man.

He waits all patiently as you and the other girls finish up your performance before he’s pushing up off his chair, making his way across the room. Worst thing that happens is you walk away, which is fine. He’s handled rejections before (not that he often finds himself being rejected).

“‘Scuse me, miss. Want me to get that drink for you?” Bucky smiles, an easy, lazy little smile as he leans against the bar counter next to you as you go to order a drink, head tilted down as he takes in your features. He reaches up to flick one of the ridiculously oversized feathers hanging off your little headpiece. “You looked real good up there, doll. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

“Well, I won’t say no to a free drink. And thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” You reply, head lifting so you can meet his eyes. “Any chance I can get your name?”

Bucky’s smile widens at that, his hand reaching out to grab one of yours. He lifts it up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckles. “Sergeant Barnes — or Bucky, for a pretty girl like yourself.”

“A sergeant? I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get the attention of such an important man.” You tease lightly, drawing a soft little laugh from him.

“Ah, you flatter me, doll. I’m lucky to have such a beautiful girl givin’ me the time of day.”

His words have you smiling, giving a little shake of your head in response. “Are you going to buy me that drink, Sergeant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Gotta say, doll,” Bucky pants into your open mouth, pushing your back up against his hotel room door. His hands quickly find their way under the long coat you wore, eager to expose that skimpy little costume you still wore underneath. “I’m real glad you ain’t a good Christian girl. Was startin’ to get worried I’d have to end our conversation with a cold shower.”

“Be quiet.” You huff in response, helping him work you out of your coat so you can feel his hands on you again.

“Ah-ah. Don’t think you can start bossin’ me around, sweetheart.” He teases, dipping his head to the crook of your neck to press kisses against the skin as he grips at your hips to guide you along to the bed.

Bucky lowers you onto the bed with practiced ease, hovering over you as he works deftly to peel the layers of fabric away from your body. He’s already sporting a semi under his damn trousers, cock twitching helplessly against his briefs as it slowly hardens at the sight of you.

It’s not long before his own clothes are gone and he’s pushing into you with a low groan. He’s throbbing against your walls as he stills inside of you to allow you to adjust, forearms resting either side of your head and boxing you in against the mattress.

“Feel good?” He asks with a breathless little laugh as he watches the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. Cute. He’s not faring much better with the way you’re fluttering around his cock. “Look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

When he finally starts to move, it’s with purpose. He shifts his hips into a few different angles, watching your expression closely. When he draws a gasp from you, a grin spreads across his features — dark and predatory.

As his tip starts to ram against your sweet spot with every thrust, you realise you’re fucked. Literally.

It only takes a few minutes before you’re whining and writhing beneath him. He’s nothing but smug as your legs begin to shake, squeezing around his waist as if that’d be enough to slow the speeds of his thrusts. Your cunt forms a milky ring around the base of his cock every time he pushes in to the hilt, and he’s starting to feel a little dizzy at the sight of it.

He feels like a bully with the meanness of each snap of his hips against your ass. You claw desperately at his back, chest, shoulders. Anything you can reach, really. All it seems to do is spur him on.

“Fuck. Shit. Christ, doll.” He hisses, balls drawing up tight. He pulls out quickly, shifting one of his arms from the side of your head so he can press his thumb against the head of his cock, bracing it against your clit.

He thrusts in slow, measured strokes, grinding against the sensitive bud until you’re tensing beneath him. His eyes flick between your pussy and your face as you cum underneath him, then he’s shooting a fat, creamy load all over your stomach with a ragged gasp.

Another huff of laughter leaves him as he flops down on the bed next to you, his hand running through his hair — almost in disbelief. He glances over at you with a lazy grin, head cocking to the side.

“Can you take me again, doll?”

#love letters .ᐟ #🥨anon #nyx drabbles .ᐟ #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #marvel x reader #marvel smut #bucky smut

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andcars · 5 months ago

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# 𝗖𝗦𝟱𝟱 ─── TO THE PODIUM N' BACK DOWN MASTERLIST . . . REQUEST ME . . . TAGLIST . . . AO3

IT'S YOUR FIRST WIN with carlos trailing behind you. to celebrate, the both of you hit the club. things ensues, sexual tensions are sexual, and holy shit he just pinned you to the bathroom door and fucked you raw. ────── original prompt req.

PROMPTED DIALOGUE . . . # “We can run away together, somewhere far away” + “We’ll only be caught if you’re loud” PROMPTED TAGS . . . # breeding kink, bareback, obsessive behaviour, body worship, teammate!reader ADD. TAGS . . . # cunnilingus, slick as lube, wall sex, semi-public sex, creampie WORD COUNT. . . # 2k

────── AO3 VERSION

The victory anthem plays as champagne is sprayed all over you. There’s nowhere to hide from the liquid shooting at you from both ends. It’s warm. It smells addicting. You’re living the high of being a winner and Carlos is right there with you.

When most of everyone’s champagne has spilled, you drink yours to the bottom of the bottle. The adrenaline screams at you. Your heart is still finding its resting pace. You think to yourself, You really got your first fucking win.

Coming down from the podium, Carlos has a hand on your back. “You did well, mi reina (my queen). How are you celebrating?”

You don’t have to say a word to him to tell him. He laughs beside you when you stay silent.

“We can always run off,” he suggests, “we aren’t needed anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure we will be,” you retaliate, despite not caring anyways.

He tells you, ignoring your concerns, “We can go somewhere far from here. Where they won’t find us.”

You look at him then. He’s already looking at you. The smile on your face is something he’s seen time and time again. You don’t think he’ll get tired of it. “Sounds like a plan.”

────── SHORT WHILE LATER. . .

The club music roars in your ears. There is not a single drop of alcohol in your body and yet you feel like you’re intoxicated from the win alone. It’s like your body knows.

In the edge of the crowd, your body is pressed up with Carlos. For the greater part of this season, he has been helping place high into the ranks. More often than not, you out-qualify him in the race.

Ferrari finds their strategy and you have never been more glad to be the one to receive the win. Turning around, you place your arms around Carlos' neck.

Maybe it’s still the high of the win. Maybe it’s because Carlos has been nothing but a good teammate.

It really could just be because he’s really hot.

“You’re looking at me,” he says, like an idiot.

“Not like you don’t look at me first,” you tell him. “Always following me around, one would say you’re my stalker.”

Both of you know it’s true. The amount of times he would follow you around the garage though he has his own duties. In the hospitality, he would find anything just to keep the both of you together.

You've watched the onboards, him always inquiring where you stand. You know he always finds a way to make sure you’re beside him in the rankings.

He shrugs, barely hiding it. “I like being with you. Should there anything be more than that?”

Without thinking about it anymore, you pull him for a kiss. He comes easily, body pressed against yours as warmth spreads between the two of you. The taste of champagne is still on his tongue.

Of course he loves you. It’s like he got one taste of you and he can’t get rid of you now. His tongue memorised the shape of your lips. His mouth can’t help but utter your name. Now, his hands find themselves on your hip. In slow strokes, he caresses you tenderly yet his kisses tells differently. It’s hungry. It’s insatiable. You can barely breathe under the pressure.

When his lips trailed down your neck, you moaned.

“You like that, corazón (heart)?” he gasps, the sound barely noticeable over the deafening music. “You like it here?”

He doesn’t need to hear your response as his kisses and turns to bites. You squirm under him. Both of his hands come to steady you by the hips, immobilising you in his arms. He’s heavy on you, his dominance alluring you to give in. Fucking addicting, so fucking good.

You don’t think about why you let Carlos take you like this in the corner of the floor. His touch feels electrifying. His body is warm—fucking hot. It’s in the way he sways you to the music and the open mouthed bites on your neck.

“Carlos,” you breathe out as you pull him away, “maybe don’t fuck me in public.”

He laughs, seeing the sly grin on your face. “Surely you won’t mind the bathroom? I don’t think I can go far like this.”

Pretending to ponder about making Carlos exit the club with a hard on and you by his side, you lean against him. “I'll tell the whole world how ungentlemanly you are.”

“You’ll tell the world about us?”

You smile, “I’ll tell the universe about us.”

With his hand in yours, he leads you to the bathroom. You’re thankful that it’s not like one of those dingy bathrooms in most clubs. Despite wanting to fuck your teammate this bad, you don’t think you can stand the smell of vomit and piss.

Carlos takes you to a room inside—this level of privacy for a singular toilet is crazy, but then again, you're sure this was often visited for sex—and pins you by the door.

It’s not tight in here and yet he finds a way to suffocate you. One of your legs wrap around him as he undresses you. The strap of your dress falls and the skirt is pulled up. He moans against your skin as his hands love your ass.

“Carlos,” you moan, his hands feeling your cold skin, “fucking hell…”

Distantly, you hear the bathroom door open. Carlos chuckles against your neck, kissing it after. “Better be quiet, corazón. Unless you wanna tell the universe now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sainz.” You pull him to a kiss as he unbuckles himself. The need to grind into him is convincing. You’re weak against him, letting your panties caress his erection.

He sighs, his mouth biting at your bottom lip at your crudeness. You hear him swear under his breath, mumbling something in Spanish as he finally pulls out his cock.

Before you could offer him anything, he pulled away to kneel. You moan at the sight. He pulls up your skirt and practically breathes in against your clothed cunt. Your underwear is a futile barrier.

He pulls it off with one hand as he spits in the other. You tug at his hair as he goes forward, kissing your clit and his finger fucking into you.

“Shit…” you moan, trying to stifle it afterwards with your arm, “Carlos.”

His eyes look up at you. Your little pleads don’t stop him as his mouth trails lower to your hole, peppering kisses on it as his finger rubs your insides. He gets two more fingers in easily with the wetness. Your thigh quivers around him and you pull his hair.

A whine leaves you when his fingers leave. It was too short. You want more. He hears you and is quick to replace it with his other fingers, drier yet more eager to stretch you out. Though your view is obstructed, you can hear his hand working his own cock.

It makes you feel manic the fact he’s using your own slick as his lube.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you moan, a leg over his shoulder. Your cunt is directly over his mouth, his nose bumping into your clit perfectly. This is enough to drive you fucking crazy.

You’re close. The beat of the club thrums with your heart. His tongue is lapping at your leaking pussy as four fingers stretch you out. You’re entirely sure that you’re being heard throughout the bathroom now. It doesn’t matter. You don’t care—

He stops. You squirm on top of him as he comes back up to you. “Corazón,” he whispers as his fingers pull out to tease your clit. “So pretty, so good for me…”

“You fucking tease,” you grunt. He smiles at you.

“I want you to cum on me, huh?” his hand is noisy as it fucks his cock with your juices. “My girl, always want to see you come apart for me.”

However much you wanna hit him right now, it dissapates as his cock slaps at your hole. You wince, “Carlos!” and throw an arm around him.

“So beautiful,” he pants, “tastes so good to me. Tastes like a winner.”

You wanna retaliate. You wanna whine and say no to his love. But he pushes his cock inside of you without protection and it makes you lose your head.

“Carlos, condom—”

“There’s none here,” he says, breathless as he enjoys the way you clench around him. “There’s none. Either I leave you like this or I fuck you raw.”

True to his words, he does fuck you raw. Every thrust of his bare cock inside of you drives you crazy. His warmth, his skin, his leaking pre-cum all touching the most intimate part of you. Just the thought that this is the closest he's ever been with you makes you wanna cum.

“So fucking good,” he says, breath tickling your neck. “My girl, corazón, so fucking loose on me.

“You’re so hot. So wet. I want to keep fucking you like this. Feel my cum drip down your cunt—” you moan—”as you get so full of me.”

Carlos is lost in his own fantasy. He thrusts into you harder, your hips moving along his as you relish in the idea together. He doesn’t miss the way you clench harder on him. The way your moans just get a little bit louder.

“You’d like that?” he asked, “Don’t want me to pull out? Does my girl want to keep my cum inside of her? Fuck her full until she’s bred full?”

“Carlos—!” you scream out into his neck, hiding your red face. “You fucking- oh God, yes, fuck! Just like that, baby. Fucking breed me.”

He doesn’t need to be told again. Your moans echo through the room as your hands pull at his head. He kisses down your jaw, to your neck, and bites and marks you.

You don’t understand him anymore. He murmurs to you in Spanish which you don’t understand. But the way his teeth scrapes, his hand tightens, his hips fucking into you like they’re determined to stuff you full with his semen. You can’t stop yourself from cumming all over him.

His pace is overstimulating, too much for you. Though he slows down, his cock grinding into you has you punching his back.

Carlos understands perfectly. He pulls out with only half his cock inside, still erect, still wanting to feel you. You don’t get him soft as your hands go down to finish him off.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you feel him resist the urge to fuck your first. Your delicate hands moving on him with the head of his cock still feeling your pulsating pussy. He’s fighting everything not to give in to this bliss.

“Come on, Carlos,” you say, “cum in me. Let yourself win today too.”

He looks into your eyes and you can see something primal behind them. Though he doesn’t move, he forces your lips to lock with his. Your hand falters as you taste yourself on his tongue. But his hands intertwine with yours, helping you finish him off.

“So good,” he says between breathing, “letting me have you like this—how I’ve always wanted.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your pretty little pussy.”

Few more strokes and he finishes inside of you with a loud moan. You feel it splatter your insides and your legs give in for just a moment. He holds you upright. His grip on you is strong but never enough to bruise. You know that he was never one to hurt you.

Only after calming down could you hear both of your cum drip down onto the tiles. You blush, whining a little. “Carlos,” you say, “I can’t go out like this.”

“Like you became mine?”

You punch his chest. “Like I’m a fucking whore!”

He laughs and presses a short kiss on your lips. “Mhm, I don’t know, I like seeing you dirty like this.”

After he cleans you up, you hit him in the head for being such a dumbass. He doesn’t really look like he cares. Not with those hearts in his eyes.

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . the funniest bit is that i was finishing up the graphic for this fic as i watched carlos hit the barriers in singapore q3- so, that happened. anyways! working on a lot of requests so i hope this one is a great start for everyone . ˎˊ˗ ᝰ. ──── 📨 @delululeclerc @hiireadstuff

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

#🔖 . CS55 #: 🔗 above 2k #: 🔗 fic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagines

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