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plasticfangtastic · 1 year ago

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American Royalty. Ch. 1

A Homelander X F!Reader fanfic

A/N: I am writing this alongside another fic so sorry for the publishing schedule altho I got 2 chapters done, this is my dadlander fic and hyperfixation explorations

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you again, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you, and the lie that tore you two apart, but now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago? That it was his.

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter One

Blue

It had been by pure chance, whether it had been a combination of forced reminiscing and exhaustion that Homelander had thought of you after all these years; These meetings had been proven wasteful of his time, nothing the PR and Digital Marketing departments could come up that was good enough, and somehow he had gone from irritated to just defeated.

He sulked in his chair listening to their meandering voices brainstorming potential ideas as to how Ryan’s new origin story had to be developed and handled, whether it was too squeaky clean or absurd, how much could they risk offending the child, how much of his mother should be kept from the public (not that they were very aware of the fine details, as Homelander had been more than just vague about it, he had simply no intent to divulge about his son’s conception, upbringing or his mother’s fate) Homelander would never allowed the public to look with pity or fear at his son, he would not allow them to brand him as a murdered over an accident– he could still hear his son weeping and shaking in his sleep, waking up in a fright, seeing invisible blood in his hands.

Homelander had grown overprotective of the boy, he was made indestructible but his mind and heart were glass, still pure and uncorrupted by the awful world they inhabited, he would never allow anything else to taint it and bring him nightmares– so this had to be perfect.

To make it worse, the kid was growing impatient and depressed, forced to stay in the tower until this story was concocted, he couldn’t attend school or interact with other children until he was trained and learned his lines, making his father increasingly more paranoid that his son was slowly growing resentful.

“Mister Homelander… what if we base Ryan’s mom off one of your other ex-girlfriends?” A rather tired intern had muttered– preferably somebody dead…”

The room shot daggers at the nameless intern but Homelander simply sat in silence and gave it a thought, he had plenty of unsuited mates disposed and handled in the past, the amount of NDA issued made for a small but noticeable stack alone, he looked at the table and the box of cannolis that the group had been munching on, looking at the small printed italian flag on the box’s side.

That he thought of you for the first time in years.

You had been his new personal chef, your interactions minimal as you brought him his meals, he hadn’t known at first how heartbroken you’d look as he returned half touched dishes over and over, it had become a competition against yourself to make him eat, every leftover morself a cause of grief, as if your honor and ego had been beaten mercilessly with every dirty plate.

One evening, Homelander sat on his couch watching a documentary by Orson Wells, he hadn’t noticed you there as you brought him dinner, the way you looked at him with spite waiting to throw the most likely untouched plate of pasta back at his face, it would get you fired and possibly killed but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were a chef, a professional, you had turned down a dream job and left the restaurant you loved for the honor of being Homelander’s personal chef, the job that would open you a thousand doors but it was without reward now it felt like your biggest mistake, no matter what you made he fucking hate it but offered no feedback, you had no clue what he wanted, what he disliked and liked, what he craved, or how he liked his meals– he simply left your food untouched.

Diverting his gaze from the film, he noted your food and that you were still there with a block of pecorino and a grater in your hands.

He stood up with a groan, lifting the silver cover to reveal boring pasta and bolognese sauce, it wasn’t styled exceptionally, it didn’t even look too appetizing, it was just some fresh linguine covered in meat sauce, he stared at you as if this was some sort of joke but your dead eyed expression was off-putting.

“Would you like some fresh cheese, sir?” Your voice might as well have been automated.

Frankly he didn’t want any cheese but pasta had to be eaten with cheese, he gestured for you to grate watching an off-white pile form on top of his pasta with no intention of stopping.

“That’s enough” he said sharply, he took the plate looking at the mound and then back at you who was still in the room, he wrapped his fork with the pasta doing his best not to stain his suit.

You just wanted to save the time with coming back to pick up the insults, but there he took the first bite of this homely dish heis eyes opened up, there hadn’t been anything special, you simply had taken some left over pasta and brought a jar of your grandma’s sauce, a recipe she had guarded fiercely ever since she stole it from some italian friend’s mom many many years ago, you adored this recipe, it had been the reason why you fell in love with food, you loved visiting your grandmother when it was time to jar the sauce, and when she served you a humbled serving of bolognese– he gave it a second bite letting the tangy and fresh sauce wash over him.

And that’s when he finally noticed you for real, how closely you watched him eat, smiling as he took another mouthful and mixed more of the fresh pecorino, there had been something warm about this meal, it lack pretense, it was something that no high end 5-star restaurant would serve but it tasted… warm.

From that point on, he looked forward to his meals, wanting to see what the fuck had you done to make food taste worthy of his body, noting you would personally deliver the meals after he failed to clean the plate on the previous one, he hadn’t even known your name but he noticed you.

You were cute, your voice had gained some warmth since that awkward first impression, he could tell it was these homemade meals that tasted the best, as if you put everything you had to make them taste delicious, there were no frills with these, just good homemade fair, made with love, he had began asking for things he had been curious but never served as if they were above his status like meatloaf, carbonara, shepherd's pie, etcetera. These were the kinds of meals the families he’d seen growing up behind the screen would eat, he had been the first to strike a conversation.

You listened, you talked, and before he knew it, he had found himself asking for your company at the dinner table. You were hesitant at first but he was handsome and charming, but above all he was the Homelander! While apprehensive you still took to his offer just to smugly enjoy seeing him enjoy your food, proud that you had triumph in this battle where so many had been defeated, you’d cracked the code and god it felt good.

It became part of your weekly schedule, having dinner at his penthouse and chatting about anything, he loved talking and eventually it became apparent that it wasn’t because he was in loved with his voice but simply… he hadn’t got anybody who enjoyed listening to him, you were attentive, you responded well and even if you weren’t sure about something you weren’t going to let him feel as if you weren’t approachable anymore, you were more than happy to hear him explain to you a topic because his eyes gleam like those of a small kid telling you about something new they learned at school– in truth you loved how happy he became when he could rambled about things, as if nobody in the world had ever given five seconds of their time to let him talk about strange events from history and his theories, tonite he wanted to talk about the Dyatlov Pass incident and star formations that he was sad that he couldn’t see from New York, wishing you could see how the sky looked like from his cabin.

You’d spend more and more time in his home as the conversations grew more frequent, as he wanted to hear more about your interests and hobbies.

Thinking of how cute you looked while baking, how cute your laugh was, of the way you always held him after long days, that first real date, that first time you held hands, the first shy kiss after dinner.

As he took a long whiff to catch some of that gentle sweetness, he thought of the last day you were together.

That sound.

The thing that’s the size of a bean.

The anger, his heart shattered, all the colors of the world had dissipated when he saw that tumor growing in your stomach, he wanted to hurt you as much as you did, to shut you up as you threw excuses, begging him to believe you.

But that thing wasn’t his.

It couldn’t be his.

You said it was his, that the baby you didn’t even know was inside you was his, but he couldn’t be the father.

His eyes widened, he stood up and left the room, his mind focused on your name. They had tried getting his attention but could only give up as nobody would dare to chase after him, Homelander found himself entering the analytics offices towards the first chump he spotted.

“Can you find me information on a former employee?” He said firmly, the junior staff jumped at his seat nodding frantically– their name was Y/N L/N.” he said quietly.

The staffer didn’t have to do much work, you were easy to find, your name attached to Brooklyn’s most loved pizzeria for the last couple years, your face on their socials, and even a video from some food channel following what it was like working in Brooklyn’s hottest pizzeria had you in it, your shop had been listed as the best two years in a row, Homelander couldn’t bare looking at your face, but he asked for an address.

That night after spending time with Ryan who seemed to be sulking more and more, as he watched him eat his dinner, he thought of you, the kid was meandering whatever was on his plate didn’t feel appetizing, his meal was no different from what it was served in a high-end restaurant and the kid had no desire to eat it, he wanted Ryan to have the finest things when all he wanted was to have his mom’s tacos– his son opted to head for bed early skipping dinner all together, it was almost 10 pm, a heavy feeling had been boiling in his stomach since that meeting.

Taking flight all the way to some red brick Brooklyn projects, hovering about until he encountered you.

Time had been kind to you but you looked tired, the glow in your skin now dulled, your appearance unkempt, your clothes worn and old, your shoes the nicest thing you worn but they still creased and dirty, you looked beyond exhausted, your eyes half closed and your arms dangling on your sides as you carried a couple grocery bags, he looked around at the constructions and rubbish, at the hooligans and wannabe gangbangers, and the rancid smell. Hundred buildings all the same, he wanted to get closer as he watched you walk alone in those sticky white painted brick walls, you stopped suddenly by one of the brown doors, there were only four other doors in that floor, waiting patiently, an old lady opens the door, you two exchanging pleasantries as you handed the lady two of your grocery bags, a small dog came to say hello and then… there she was.

She was small for her age, she didn’t jump with excitement or say much to you, just a slight bow to the old lady and she walked in front of you as you said goodbye, only stopping two doors down.

Your apartment was small, two small bedrooms, small kitchen and barely sparsely decorated, but it was clean and tidy, your daughter dropped her school bag, and headed for the bedroom while you moved to the kitchen, never really talking to each other, he found himself flying closer just to get a perfect vision of that child.

She was a mini-you, taken so much from you, whoever the father was it didn’t seem to have mattered in the end for the kid got nothing from him, she changed to her pajamas as you sat on the couch after throwing away your uniform to the floor.

You two talked briefly, you didn’t read her any stories before bed or kissed her good night, you simply stared at each other and talked while you stretched your feet.

The little girl entered her room, a tidy space, books piled up on the floor in sharp stacks against the wall, a desk containing some electronics and a couple stuffed animals.

She was a cute thing, just like you had been once, her hair short and her straight bangs covering most of her face, too long for it too be safe, she had your complexion and jet black hair, she sat on her desk turning the desk lamp and picked her Kindle up, looking at her clock then back at her Kindle, she sat there for a couple minutes digesting some pages until it was almost midnight, before heading to the living room– you’d passed out on the couch, she took your phone and put it to charge fidgeting with something before leaving it, turning the TV off, and finally turning around to slip a quilt on top of her mother.

Homelander almost felt sorry for the kid, after all you had done to him only to neglect your child, you were just as much of a scumbag as he had imagined, he had had enough wanting to fly away until he saw the little girl staring back at him.

The lights were off on the home, and it was dark with the streets below shaded piss yellow, he looked around wondering if there was something nearby that caught your daughter’s attention but she was staring straight at Homelander, she forced the window open peeking her small frame slightly out the window, in the dark starless night while strangers made a ruckus a couple streets from here, a bright twinkling of pale blue illuminated your home.

He got closer, something caught in his throat as he came only a meter away from your daughter.

She looked so much like you but her eyes even as they lost their unnatural light were so blue, as if the entire ocean lived in her eyes.

The curtains slid shut, his chin flicked in surprise as he caught the small figure plainly ignoring him, he was loved by all, especially children! Even those whose favorites were Noir, A-Train or Maeve loved him! Yet this little girl had just shrugged him off and ignored him, simply returning to her bedroom to shut the second set of blinds and jump straight to bed.

Homelander was left dumbfounded, not once had he seen such disinterest and callousness from a member of his safest demographic, so he stood in mid-air pondering about killing both of you briefly, just as the heat from his cheeks cooled down, he stared at the now sleeping brat, wondering about that inhuman blue light that glossed her big round eyes.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys oc characther #homelander fanfiction #american royalty #my fic tag #personal #dadlander #I been possessed #not proofreaded sorry #homelander x f!reader #homelander x you

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genandguice · 4 months ago

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𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. ryan gosling

warnings: i do not condone these thoughts or actions….

infidelity. smut. and with plot 👎🏼 also reader smoking cigs. female reader. oral m receiving, piv, little bit of breeding

𝐰𝐜: 4.7𝐤

Ryan’s touch on your abdomen is so slight that it tickles, and you find yourself smiling against his lips as they move sensually against yours. Every faint movement from him sends a tingle across your stomach. For a moment, you’re distracted from the heat and the pulsing between your thighs, you let yourself moan into his mouth just to keep from giggling, until his hand starts to travel further north. His fingertips are destined to grip the curve of your breast, and you tremble in the anticipation, your moans become unsuppressable. The muscles in his back stretch and flex under your hands and your legs tighten around him as the notion of his strength settles in your mind; how deeply, how harshly he could ram his hips into you, how tight he could hold you down, or how easily he could hold you up, how these very muscles would feel under your hands, using all his brawn to lift you up and down on his cock.

“Cut!”

“That’s lunch everybody! 2 hours today!”

The sound on set resumes around you as your costar lifts away from his position above your half-naked body, taking his body heat and his natural, masculine smell with him. A pang of disappointment replaces his warmth as he leaves you, perfectly chipper and unaffected by the sudden halt as he pulls his t-shirt back on, bringing you back to reality. You aren’t a controversially-aged couple dramatically kindling a resisted desire, but an unknown actress and her married A-list costar.

You’d always heard he was great to work with, a gentleman and a sweetheart, that he had great chemistry with everyone on set, but that wasn’t the case with you- he hardly spoke to you.

You give a multi-million dollar performance moaning and writhing underneath him, and he doesn’t seem to notice you at all.

You think he must be desensitized, all the roles he’s played with so many women, a scene is just a scene. But more likely, he just loves his wife.

Either way, it seems you’ll never have the chance to abolish your yearning for the real thing.

Your silk robe is handed over by a nearby assistant and you wrap it around yourself, deep in racing thought, hoping no one had noticed the ever present wet spot in your sole article of clothing. You’ve been shockingly invisible to most of the crew, despite being the leading lady, and most currently one of only two nude bodies in the room, but it finally pays off as you’re able to scurry to your trailer unbothered. With your cunt literally weeping, screaming for attention, you’re thankful for an extra long lunch. Maybe if you take care of yourself the next take won’t be so stimulating. It’ll be nice to spend some hours locked away.

Trailer locked, blinds shut, robe open, panties down, and you’re in wonderland. It’s almost embarrassing to be so worked up like this over someone you’re working closely with, but as your middle finger seamlessly and mercilessly glides over your slippery bundle of nerves, you couldn’t give a shit. The mental images of Ryan pounding into you, the guttural sounds he’d make as he hits that spot deep inside you, earnestly driving you toward a life-changing orgasm, it was all you could think. Your back arches up off the dark leather couch, your moans heighten in pitch, volume, and frequency even as you try to hold them back, and you’re finally at the edge.

And then someone is knocking at your door.

It takes everything in you not to scream. It’s as if everyone you work with is cock-blocking you at every step. You throw a quick, silent tantrum, kicking your feet and punching your fists in the air, furiously grieving the second suspension of your pleasure, before you tie your robe to hide your body and stickiness once again. You kick your panties to the side before you crack the door.

“Hungry?”

Of course it’s him.

“Kinda thought I felt your tummy rumbling so I brought you something.” Ryan gestures to the bag of takeout he shakes in his other hand. You want to be frustrated, the ache between your thighs is painful, but he just has a way about him that cheers you up. You crack, and you snicker, and it pulls a smile from him.

“My tummy?”

He shrugs and looks at you as if you’re the one who’s ridiculous while he opens up the bag. “Your tummy.”

His terminology makes you feel like a little girl, and it’s conflicting. On the one hand, it makes you feel precious, and desired, as if he’d eagerly sweep you up in his strong arms, pet, caress and cradle you like a kitten, call you a “cute little thing”, but on the other hand, it’s just more evidence that he’ll never take you seriously. You are just a little girl to him; too young and silly to garner any real attention.

“It is reportedly- reported by you, your favorite.” You inspect the bag with one arm slithering through the door, while Ryan waits patiently and confidently for you to approve.

“It is my favorite, where did you hear that?”

Again, he shrugs, but this time with a humbly accomplished smirk that blesses his features all too well. “I have my sources. But you can only have this food on one condition.”

You huff a laugh. “What condition?” What could he want from you?

He gives you that “you’re ridiculous” look again. “You let me eat with you.”

Immediately your mind has returned to its racing, but one thought stands out among the others. “Ryan, I’m still in my robe.” You laugh nervously, feel your cheeks getting hot as your thoughts turn dirty, the confession turning your attention back to your bare crotch lingering underneath the garment. But he’s oblivious to that, and consequently unfazed.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And I do not believe in the sexual objectification of female nudity.” He points a finger at you as he corrects himself, “Or near nudity.”

He’s dangerously convincing; finally giving you that characteristic Gosling charm and the attention you’ve wanted for, and although it’s almost alarmingly sudden, it’s irresistible.

“Alright.” You open up the door and let him in, cheeks still burning. You feel more naked and displayed like this than you do when you aren’t wearing it, the fabric highlighting and accentuating every curve of your body. But Ryan walks right past you as if it’s nothing.

He takes a seat on your dark leather couch, freshly dry of your sweat, but not before covertly noticing the discarded panties behind the door.

The twitch is his pants makes him second guess himself, maybe he shouldn’t have done this- but nobody will know about a slight involuntary reaction to finding out the young girl in front of him was truly naked beneath a single, thin layer. He has plenty of control over himself. You’re his costar, he can’t avoid interacting with you just to subside meaningless temptation forever.

But his doubts linger back as his eyes lift and land on you. The way they’ve done your hair up for the movie, how the color of the silk compliments your skin tone, how the fabric hugs your thighs with each movement. His minds eye shows his hands sliding up the inside of them, bound for the sole part of your body still unknown to him. Though you settle into the opposite end of the couch, as far as you could be, he finds the proximity intoxicating, and his thoughts difficult to purify.

“Why’d you wanna eat lunch with me anyway?” Your legs are carefully tucked under your knees to shield your undress, arm resting on the back of the couch, resting your head on your hand, cigarette delicately balanced between your fingers on the other. The food has long gone, and you still have nearly an hour left for lunch, but for whatever reason, he’s stayed; sitting, legs spread wide, listening, laughing, blabbering back, occasionally slapping his hand on the couch, so close to touching you, to emphasize his sentences.

And with every passing minute, you feel the pull between you growing stronger, more tangible. The air around you is static, you can barely look him in the eyes, and he can’t allow his gaze to linger anywhere but yours.

“We hardly know each other. It’s a little un-gentlemanly of me to touch you the way I do and not know anything about you.” He laughs, and you swear you see a rosy hue spread across his cheeks. “But I also thought you could use a friend, you know. You must get lonely in here all by yourself.”

“What makes you say that?” You look at him curiously as you drag from your cigarette.

He’s taken aback by the question, as if he doesn’t have an answer, he just assumed you must be lonely, and his demeanor shifts as he spends a short moment reflecting. His body tenses, almost imperceivably, he guards himself up, and then it’s over as fast as you could notice it.

“Well,” he laughs, “Maybe I’m projecting.”

“…Are you lonely?”

“Everybody gets lonely sometimes.”

It hurts to hear that he hurts, but it downright sickens you that it gives you a flush of hope. Why would he come here now, confide that in you, if not to act on it? It was a reach, but one to give you just enough reason to abandon all shame and morality standing in your way.

“Your family doesn’t travel with you?” You cautiously elongate your legs out toward him as you put out your cigarette, careful not to flash him. When he delays to answer you, eyes lingering on the hemline lying in just the right position to keep you covered, you know you’ve trapped him.

“Ryan?”

He shakes his head, eyes unmoved, and softly speaks. “No.”

He’s faired no better, made no progress clearing his thoughts since he stepped foot in your trailer. He can’t explain the effect you’ve had on him, not anymore, not with the way he’s half-hard in his pants and remains seated, gazing at the apex of your thighs, hoping the robe would rise just a few inches higher. But no, it’s only his cock that continues to rise, and at this point, he’s a willing participant.

“That must be hard.”

As you make your risky, but valid remark, his eyes finally meet yours, and the state of them confirms your suspicions; dark and hooded, he’s voluntarily trapped, with no ambitions to escape.

“It is.” His gaze lingers on you, almost daring you to continue, and the atmosphere thickens. Where your attraction was once unrequited, it was now matched, filling the air with a steaming fog of sexual tension.

“Your wife doesn’t get nervous about you being so far away, and lonely? Getting close with other women?” You edge closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

“It’s not usually such a problem.” His eyes are everywhere, rapidly roaming your body with a hunger that makes your skin tingle. From your lips, to the slope of your shoulders where your robe threatens to slip, to the gentle swell of your breasts against the fabric, back up to meet your own ravenous gaze, traveling in a never-ending loop.

“Usually?” Your voice is raspy with need.

“This is different,” he admits, barely above a whisper. You can see now how his breathing is quick and heavy; the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control it, mirroring your own arousal.

“How so?” You shift onto your knees, now mere inches away from him and the erection straining against his pants.

“I’ve never been in such… irresistible company.”

Ryan is a good man. It was something you’d always known, something you were always told. You still believed it. Just as you believed you were a good young woman. But everyone has their weaknesses. And yours just so happened to be each other. All the time you’d spent together on this movie, trying desperately not to indulge this very feeling. What if something cosmically, intensely amorous lie on the other side of it?

“So you want me to… help with your loneliness?” Your tone eases into a seductive tenor that fuels the sinful craving taking over him.

Ryan’s adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, and he nods, silently pleading for you to relieve him.

“Are you sure?” You ask, closing the gap between you and snaking your hand over his thigh, feeling how it trembles at your touch. You lean in to whisper, lips gently brushing his tragus, “I wouldn’t want to desecrate your vows.”

Your freshly-manicured fingers massage the tent in his crotch, stroking every ounce of hesitation right out of him. He couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to.

“God, yes.”

You hum in his ear, giving him a squeeze, feeling the thickness of him. You’ve thought about it so many times, fantasized about this very moment where he picks you over it all. The weight of endless possibilities presses down on your mind as you sift through every dream, looking for a perfect place to start. To taste his cock, to feel his tongue lapping at the puddle between your thighs, to prolong the anticipation until he’s begging for you, or just to kneel below him and ogle his stiff, robust, burly form.

His eyes have fallen shut as he relishes in the motion of your hand. With each touch, he's consumed by impure thoughts he’d never allowed himself to give into before. And after truly indulging his fantasies for the first time, he blurts exactly what comes to mind, with a grunt, as if he’s read your thoughts; “I want you to put me in your mouth.”

Your body responds instinctually, a moan escaping your lips at the mental image he created, and the realness of the sound reverberates in his ear, seeps into his bloodstream and gets him addicted to it. He feels his urges thundering through him, fingertips prickling with restlessness, ready to finally act on his instincts and pull every wanton noise you have to give until you’re hoarse.

You move with an enticing grace, slinking down into the floor between his knees as if it were your natural place. Ryan’s eyes track you all the way, completely enraptured in you, as if the moment might cease altogether if he blinked. His cock jumps as you settle into your position at his feet, so eager to unleash him.

Your eyes are locked as you slide your hands up his thighs, the width of his quadriceps dwarfing them. The fabric around his crotch is taught and strained. Your mouth waters knowing what waits for you there.

The zipper gives without a fight, the pants themselves ready to be free of him. It’s the sound that draws your attention to his cock, the heavy thump of it smacking up against his stomach. It’s every bit as impressive as you imagined; thick, veined, glistening at the tip, and you moan at the sight of it alone.

A tentative hand reaches for your neck, gently petting you with his thumb, but the anticipation mingling with the skin-to-skin contact ignites some kind of impatience in him.

His hand reaches up into your professionally done hair and tugs it tight, sending your head back with a gasp.

“As much as I’d like to take my time with you,” he speaks lowly as he guides your lips to his cock, “we don’t have that luxury.”

His commandeering tone somehow gives you that precious and desired feeling. So hopelessly hypnotized by him that you need his guidance to properly do your job, and you gladly accept it, like the distracted little girl you are.

Your lips wrap around just the very tip of his engorged head, swiping your flat tongue over his slit and savoring the taste of the droplets that soak into it. Ryan shudders and he grips the leather with his free hand as you take him further, quickly growing hungrier, suctioning his cock into your wet mouth and stroking your tongue on the underside of it. He’s heavy on your tongue, tastes of salt and sweat and daydreams come to life and you want more.

One of your hands grips him, sturdy and pulsing in your hand as you pump him up into your greedy mouth, and a needy groan rumbles from his chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he speaks behind grit teeth, steadily pushing you further onto him with the hand buried in your hair.

The more he fills your mouth, the more your own arousal pools between your thighs, begging for attention. But this moment was about him. The man who’d always put others before himself, who’d always chosen his career and his wife over his own desires. Your talented tongue massages the thick vein throbbing against it, milking him towards a newly free ecstasy with every motion. The hand that supports your mouth drips with your spit, drooling down his cock and soaking him at the base, properly drowning him in pleasure.

“God, I knew you’d be good at this,” he gasps, unable to take his eyes off the sight of you giving him a fresh new world. The idea of him thinking about you that way, trying to imagine how he’d feel in your mouth, just how well you’d please him, makes your pussy flutter.

You moan around him, spurring him on further as his hips jump and twitch. You find a rhythm, swallowing him down and slurping him back up, letting your wrist fall slack and sloppily twist around him. The sound is fucking obscene, wet squelches of your hand and your throat, sighs and expletives shoving their way past his lips. His hand shoves your further and rougher as he loses himself in the feeling, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with the feeling of his cock pounding the back of your throat. You’re enthralled, all of your senses filled to the brim with him, tears blooming in your ears, cunt empathetically throbbing with the weight of his impending orgasm, until you’re overflowing.

You pull back at a particularly harsh and deep thrust, gagging, coughing, gasping for air, but pumping him through it all. Your mouth is smeared with a shameful amount of slobber, but you wear it graciously, thirsty for his seed. But after all the time you’ve pined after him, the amount of wanting proliferating inside you just today, you need it spilled and planted elsewhere.

Residual groans and twitches flee his body, fueled the sight of you on your knees before him, wide-eyed, cherry-lipped and needy, still dutifully stroking him. It’s a feat for him not to just hold you in this position until he blows all over your pretty face. The way you worship him, the way you crave him, it fulfills his ego, reaffirms his dominance over you. He makes a mental note to mention how much it truly means to him to be treated with such reverence as your hand slows to a stop, but for now, he has a painfully hard cock to attend to, and a surely leaking cunt awaiting his discovery.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He commands, his hand loosening in your hair, returning to its gentle caress.

The aching in your core becomes all-consuming as your deliverance draws near, and you whimper like a neglected pet.

“I want you inside me,” you plead. “God, Ryan, I want you deep and raw,” he grips your hair for purchase as your filthy words thrill him, and you gasp before he loosens again- “Ah! Oh, I want you to make me sorry for tempting you,” you’re panting, “I want to feel everything you’ve waited to do to me.”

He leans forward with a sigh, aiming to sound displeased, but the excited glint in his eye exposes him.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nod vigorously, thoroughly shameless, and he hums in approval, and then-

His lips crash into yours and you’re both reborn. It’s real, and intense, and passionate, and you can feel how much he’s needed you too.

His hand begins to flow down your back, not bothering to pull your robe off, beelining for the curve of your ass, large hand brushing down and over the skin there with a tantalizing touch. Creeping between your thighs, sneaking up the inside, soaking up your expecting whines. The largest swell of your inner leg is sticky with your arousal and Ryan groans into your mouth as he lands upon it- and then he’s there.

Spreading your pitifully slick labia with his middle finger, circling your clit just once, sending your hips lurching forward, then continuing to tease your folds. You grip his muscular arms to keep yourself steady and they flex marvelously under your palms with his movements, stretching, bulging, hardening like those of a Greek god. You’re whimpering in his mouth, desperate and insatiable, until his finger suddenly plunges inside your gushing hole. Your mouth falls open with a gasp and he groans low and long, slowly fucking his finger into you, carefully stroking your walls and exploring the steamy sanctuary your body had tailored for him.

“So fucking wet.” His voice has regained a softness, as if he’s grateful. He kisses across your cheek and down to your jaw,“Gonna be a good girl?” He wants to sound patient, like he’s in control, like he could walk away if you can’t properly hold yourself together, but his aching tone and his now harsh, deep thrusts prove otherwise. “Can’t have you makin’ too much noise.” He huffs. “Need you to tell me you’ll be good for me.”

“I will.” The words rush from your mouth at a shameful speed. “I will, I will, I will.” You mumble and whimper, clinging to his biceps. “Please just fuck me.”

His impatience climaxing once again, Ryan effortlessly scoops you up like a ragdoll and drops you to lie on the dark leather, strong hands preventing you from bouncing on the furniture to return you to the lewd position you held just before he joined you.

He’s breathtaking above you. He always is. But this time he’s primal, any ounce of his normally cheeky self ceased. A tower of a man, staring down at you with black eyes, wide chest expanding further with his labored breathing, cock standing impressively between you, demanding attention, ready to claim you and reclaim himself.

He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, shifting your hips up, vulgarly unveiling your cunt to his hungry eyes. He showers your calf in kisses and growls in praise of the display below him; swollen, saturated and leaking, calling out to him without a sound.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.”

You must have been seducing him this whole time, winding him up with a vengeance until he had no choice but to give in to keep his sanity. How intensely and honestly you beg for him, how you submit to his will, how your body naturally composes in just the way to please him. He’s lost all resistance to your siren song. And so he wastes no time pressing his cock past your folds, drinking up your breathy, relieved whines as he stretches and plugs your tender hole.

He releases a stifled, husky grunt when his dick is fully buried, rolls his hips against you until he’s perfectly sheathed and settled. You can hear him shuddering while you faintly struggle to adjust to him, uncontrollably clenching around him, unknowingly driving him mad. He’s stiff as a steel rod inside you, so snug against your pillowy walls you can feel him pulsating, every tiny shift and twitch in his hips. You can’t help but be stimulated, you’re so full you can feel it in your lungs, and so you clench, and every little breath makes it worse, your body only mustering tiny, pitiful whimpers.

“Relax.” He hisses through his teeth, massaging your lower stomach where it bulged with the heft of his erection.

“If you don’t stop squeezing me like that I’ll cum fast.” But as much as you can’t stop the fluttering of your walls, he can’t stop his cock succumbing to it, hips subconsciously answering the primal beckoning and starting a slow rhythm, unintentionally forcing you to feel every inch steadily slotting in and out of you. So started a viciously stimulating cycle.

“I- can’t help it,” you whine, “so full.”

His dick twitches, his hips stuttering deep into you, “Fuck yes you are.” Still barely holding himself together, his hips just slightly speed up, gain a momentum, gently knocking into your cervix with his force, jostling your body on the couch. He doesn’t retreat more than an inch or two before hinging back into you, determined to keep you stuffed.

“You like it, don’t you? Like being so full of me you can’t control yourself, like making me lose control.” His hands grip your thighs, white-knuckling, imprinting his nails into your skin. It’s inexplicably sensual the way he fucks you, taking his time to ensure your bodies feel and remember every stroke, despite how close he is, and how little time you have left.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to quiet your noise, muffled squeaks garnishing his thrusts, the pounding on your cunt sends you tightening around him again, all your muscles contracting as he pummels you and-

He whimpers, a strained sound, stilling his hips, eyes shutting tight, orgasm almost overcoming him.

He’s panting as his forearms descend to either side of your head, resting his weight over top of you until his breath is fanning across your lips, your one leg still wrapped over his shoulder and now pinned to your chest.

“Squeezing my cock like this,” his hips resume their leisurely rolling, his cock sinks impossibly deeper with the new angle, he grunts with every thrust, “You want me to cum inside you. Want me to ruin my marriage knocking you up.” The sound you let out is profane, met with a growl from him as he covers your loud mouth with his hand, the impending threat of his orgasm surging once again, but this time it neglects to stop his movements and spurs them instead.

“Be good and quiet for me, baby.” He whispers, catching your lips in a short kiss to make his words stick in your fleeting mind.

“Tell me,” His eyes study yours closely, his shoulder muscles flex as he shifts his weight and his hand slides down your torso, thumb joining with your clit to swirl over it in tandem with his pelvis, “Were you touching yourself thinking about me fucking you like this?” The image of it makes his cock swell inside you.

The way your eyes unfocus for a millisecond is almost enough of an answer for him, but he needs to hear you say it.

“Tell me.” He repeats, voice shrouded in anguish, pleading with you to verbalize how deeply you desired him, to make it all real.

“Yes.” You whine, weakly, brokenly, as you admit your deepest secret, paralyzed in the pleasure of his thumb and his thrusts catalyzing your climax.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he echoes you earnestly, voice straining, “Oh, fuck, yes, yes.” Ryan spends his last spur of energy slamming deep into you, smushing and kissing your cervix, as he begins to peak, pulling you along with him into the powerful, electric whirlwind of finally having every inch of each other.

He’s groaning and cursing feverishly as his cock embeds inside you, spouting, leaking, and twitching right against your deep, needy organ, “Yeah, take it- take it, fuck- fuck, so tight, fuck yes, cum, yes,” his hips stuttering, your legs trembling, juices pouring, you milk each other for all you have. A few gentle kisses on the neck bring you back to earth, and when you turn to him, Ryan gives you one more, real, passionate and lasting on your lips for a while after he pulls away.

“Well the afterglow scene is gonna be authentic.”

FORGIVE ME </3 💋

#ryan gosling x reader smut #ryan gosling smut

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yeszzs · 2 months ago

Text

MiloxRyan AU: Soulmate String

[About 5.6k characters and 960+ words long..... I'm cringe and I'm free.]

Milo had a special talent for controlling the invisible threads that connected people to their loved ones. Despite being born with the ability, he was afraid of interfering with fate and chose not to use his powers.

His thread hung loose, like an unattached leash, trailing sadly on the ground with nothing to link it to. At first, this situation made him very sad, but everything changed when he got to college and met Eris.

Eris was peculiar. They had multiple strings attached to their fingers and limbs, but all the ends were black and torn, trailing behind them just like Milo's string. He was immediately drawn to this person and started to develop feelings for them. Unexpectedly, his previously limp thread began to twist around Eris' wrist and connect itself to the intriguing individual. Milo was ecstatic and swiftly concluded that this must be their soulmate.

However, Milo faced a significant problem. He had a rather bad reputation on campus and was frequently subjected to bullying by other students, particularly Ryan. Due to his meek demeanor, he was too intimidated to stand up for himself, so he harbored his bitterness quietly. Ryan, on the other hand, was rich, had a large social circle, and likely had caring parents – something Milo lacked. What irked Milo the most was that, despite Ryan's unsavory nature, the red string connected to the man's pinky meant that there was someone out there willing to love him despite his unappealing personality. Milo yearned for that kind of love and sought it from Eris.

Eris, however, had other plans. They wanted to completely rebuild Milo's entire being, reshaping everything about him, from his thinking process to the way he presented himself to others. Every aspect of Milo was thoroughly changed and modified by Eris. Milo happily remained undisturbed and allowed his love to do as they pleased. After all, his sole concern would always be the happiness of his soulmate.

...

On a certain Monday morning, Ryan had come to pester him again. This time he was greeted with a punch to the face and immediately grunted in pain. Out of the corner of his eye, Milo noticed that there was something around Ryan's wrist. As he took a closer look, he realized that it was a tattered black string that resembled a bracelet. But unfortunately, before Milo could investigate any further, he was struck and lost consciousness.

The familiar inky residue on Ryan's arm reminded Milo of Eris’ situation. There must've been history between Ryan and Eris for that to appear and the thought stirred up intense emotions that made Milo's blood boil and sent a rush of heat to his head.

He believed that his string had been severed during his childhood and was unable to repair itself due to the extensive damage it sustained. Meanwhile, Ryan seemed to be extremely lucky, as he received another string after his first one was broken. While Ryan was given this blessing, Milo had to make do with just one untethered string as he struggled to live life knowing that he would never find his true soulmate.

He was angry, envious, and frustrated. His gaze fixated on the red thread that encircled Eris' wrist, appearing pitifully loose as if it could be torn away at any given moment. In stark contrast, the thread fastened to Ryan's pinky tugged with force, affirming his destined encounter with his fated love in the days to come.

Milo felt a deep sense of injustice and refused to let Ryan find happiness. Not after being hurt and tormented by the man for so long.

...

On a Thursday night, Milo climbed into Ryan's dorm room window. He figured that since it was a weekday, the man wouldn't be out partying with his friends like he always was. Milo had especially spent his days carefully observing Ryan including his habits, his most frequented places, and his schedule.

There wasn't a possibility that Milo had made a mistake as Ryan lay on his bed, peacefully asleep, unaware of the man hovering over his resting frame. Milo retrieved his sharp pair of scissors and positioned them along Ryan's thread with much carefulness. His initial fear of disrupting fate faded away as his simmering resentment towards the man boiled over, compelling him to cross a dangerous line and abuse his power for the first time in his life. To Milo, this was retribution.

A nervous and excited smile began to form on Milo's lips as he snipped the string in half, watching Ryan's face scrunch up in a momentary state of terror before relaxing back into his pillow. The thread shriveled rapidly, its vibrant colors fading away at a remarkable speed until it resembled nothing more than a decaying, black string. Milo quietly laughed to himself, his hands trembling and his breath becoming increasingly shallow.

He relished in his victory for a few more minutes before retreating to Ryan's window and preparing for his escape. He was filled with giddy anticipation and longed to see what expression would be on Ryan's face once he woke up and realized his once bright and lively string was now torn and broken.

Unfortunately, what Milo didn't know was that fate had an odd way of compromising when unexpected obstacles appeared in the long run. Before Milo knew it, the loose red string that attached itself to Eris began to fade in color and extract itself from their wrist. As it crept and wriggled along, moving with excruciating slowness, it eventually reached a dorm that felt all too familiar. The thread slithered its way until it reached Ryan's deteriorating string, coiling and tightening around the remnants to fashion a new strand. However, no matter how much it twisted and turned, the color never returned to the new string.

#perfect love #perfect love vn #perfectlove #perfectlovevn #yandere #yandere vn #perfect love milo #about ryan #perfect love eris #toxic yaoi #soulmates #red string of fate #except its black #enemies to lovers #pl miloxryan

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thegatesofsilverandbone · 4 months ago

Text

Ryan was a typical high school freshman: lean, a bit awkward, and enthusiastic about video games. He spent most of his free time glued to his console, escaping the mundane routines of school life. One Friday afternoon, he discovered a new game in his favorite gaming store, an unnamed title that seemed to call to him from the shelf. The cover depicted a powerful warrior standing against a backdrop of a fantastical cityscape, similar to the one that hung in Ryan's living room.

Eager to dive into the unknown, Ryan rushed home, tore off the wrapping, and popped the game into his console. As the game booted up, the screen flashed brightly, and a deep, resonant voice echoed from the speakers: "Prepare to transform, champion." Ryan shrugged off the odd introduction, attributing it to the game's immersive narrative.

He started playing, navigating his character through a series of intense challenges. Each level was more demanding than the last, requiring not just quick reflexes but also strategic thinking. Hours passed in what felt like minutes. As he played, Ryan felt an unusual warmth spread through his body, which he initially dismissed as excitement.

Gradually, his physical transformation began. His fingers, once nimble and quick, started to thicken, veins becoming more pronounced under his skin. He noticed a tingling sensation in his arms, which soon gave way to a burning ache. Glancing down, he was shocked to see his forearms bulking up, muscles rippling under the skin. Dark hair began to sprout, covering his arms in a dense layer.

"What the...?" Ryan muttered, his voice cracking. The words barely left his mouth when he felt a tightening in his chest. His shoulders broadened, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching taut before finally giving way with a series of soft ripping sounds. His chest expanded, each breath he took filling his lungs with more power. Hair sprouted from his previously smooth chest, a thick mat of dark curls spreading down to his stomach.

He paused the game, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen of his TV. His face, once boyish and smooth, was now more chiseled. A shadow of stubble appeared on his jawline, quickly growing into a full, rugged beard. His cheekbones were more defined, and his eyes, once wide with the innocence of youth, now held a mature, intense gaze.

Ryan’s attention snapped back to the game as it resumed on its own. He tried to stand up but found himself pulled back into the couch by an invisible force. The game seemed to be taking control, guiding his transformation. He felt his legs stretching, his jeans straining as his thighs thickened with muscle. His feet grew larger, bursting out of his sneakers, now better suited to his new, larger frame.

His abdomen contracted, then expanded, a solid six-pack forming under the layer of hair. His entire torso seemed to grow, his back muscles tightening and expanding, giving him a powerful, commanding presence. He could feel his biceps and triceps bulking up, his hands growing calloused and strong.

As the game reached its final level, Ryan felt the transformation completing. His once slender neck was now thick and powerful, supporting a head that was both familiar and unrecognizable. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was deep and resonant, a stark contrast to his previous adolescent tones.

"Champion, you are ready," the game’s voice intoned one last time before the screen went dark.

Ryan, now a man, sat in stunned silence, absorbing the enormity of what had just happened. His head was covered with a thick mop of dark hair, and his face bore a full, neatly styled beard. Tattoos adorned his muscular arms, marking him as someone who had lived many lives, seen many battles.

He stood up, feeling the weight and power of his new body. His jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the waistband of his underwear, barely containing his muscular thighs. He was no longer the awkward freshman but a confident, powerful man.

Ryan walked to the mirror, taking in the full scope of his transformation. He was taller, broader, and exuded an aura of strength and confidence. His chest and abs were a solid wall of muscle, covered in a thick mat of hair. His arms were powerful, his legs like tree trunks, and he moved with the grace and power of a seasoned warrior.

As he stared at his reflection, a slow smile spread across his face. The game had promised transformation, and it had delivered beyond his wildest dreams. He was no longer just a boy; he was a champion.

#transformation

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vanmarkus · 4 months ago

Note

You seem to be on neutral ground about the ship war (I try to do the same) and you also seem relatively well caught up on all 911 news. So I wanted to ask, do you think Buddie might actually still go canon?

Personally I don't think it's likely for several reasons, but a lot of other fans seem pretty convinced it's still on the table maybe even soon.

when it comes to shipping itself i am pretty neutral, yeah, when it comes to fandom behaviour... idk i have a bunch of people blocked and muted on both sides, so make of that what you will.

i will say that though that i personally have not seen death threats and slurs thrown around that much on one side, while on the other it's... yeah. we all saw how the common talking point is either "well he's a bad person so i am clearly a good person if i wish terrible suffering on him" or "we've always been hateful, but it's just for fun so you should all lighten up" and i'm not exactly down being associated with people like that.

the way i see it is that Tim wanted to (maybe still wants to) take the show into the direction of canon buddie eventually, (but this is where i remind everyone that we might get 7 more seasons or s8 might be the last, cuz you never really know)

i think he was setting things in motion for a lot of different things this season and that was supposed to be one of them, especially if you go by the interviews and how he talked about just doing what he wanted to do, without letting the fans' interpretations get to him... however that was before he was receiving death threats over a 3-minute cut scene that would've cost thousands of dollars in licensing fees to release, according to him.

it was before bt gained quite a sizeable fanbase, before people started to lean into his accidental invisible string theory, which is frankly a writing goldmine to stumble upon. he was incredibly excited for the bi Buck storyline according to Oliver and that storyline will forever include Tommy, as both Tim and Oliver mentioned as well (Oliver going as far as saying he hopes the character stays around regardless of where the relationship ends up going, because Tommy is now a core part of who Buck is).

certain part of the fanbase seems to think they know the actors personally and know exactly what they think and how they feel about each other and the storyline

(see: people saying that Oliver is upset about where the bi Buck storyline is going, even though he literally didn't comment on it at all since he's been on hiatus and now isn't contractually obligated to promote the show and give interviews.

also claiming that Oliver doesn't like Lou which may or may not be the case, though he only ever said majorly positive things about him, so did the rest of the cast and Tim. but even so, do they think Oliver is such a bad actor that he can't be a professional and still work with him? genuine question. it's a part of the grownup world to work with people you don't like, but actors aren't their characters and whatever Oliver feels about Lou, Buck still likes Tommy, so that's the end of that discussion imo)

anyway, my point is that Tim and Oliver and even Ryan to some extent were talking about not giving in the hysteria of buddie fans and just keeping the story on the track they want to set it on and only going into that direction if it makes sense for the characters and is a truthful way of telling their stories.

again, that was before the overwhelming aggression, general homophobia (which, wow), death threats made against Tim and Lou and (seemingly) chasing Lou off of social media.

i'd say it all depends on Tim and if he feels petty enough and enjoys writing for bt enough to take it away or if he wants to go with his original vision (which, obviously i don't know him or what goes on in his head, but i personally get the sense that canon buddie was the direction he wanted to go into)

all in all, it's all speculation, but the behaviour shown by some people in the fandom is truly disgusting and disturbing and i really don't think it's justified over some fictional men dating or not dating.

and as a sidenote: acting entitled towards a queer ship becoming canon is the dumbest fucking thing in fandom history. you do know that the ship that started it all, that appeared in countless media over the last 60+ years is still not canon, right? what makes you think that we "deserve" canon buddie? especially based on everything i just outlined above.

#sorry it got long but i feel like this a pretty nuanced topic #even if nuance is like holy water to satan on this site smh #911 #911 abc #ask #anon #buddie #i guess

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a-boca-do-inferno · 10 months ago

Text

trying wasnʼt enough (jack ryan x reader)

summary: Absence is a funny thing. It implies history and every story has to come to an end. Inevitably.

warnings: angst, fluff-ish, swearing

words: 1.6k

notes: based on the bell by first aid kit. lol bye

I tried hard to be brave

I tried hard not to be afraid

But trying wasnʼt enough

(y/n) sits on the edge of the bed as Jack walks across the room, carrying his packed bags. He stands in front of her, appearing tired and annoyed, “why do you always have to make me feel like the villain?”

“Oh, that’s right, how dare I”, she scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief and anger. “Because you’re the hero, aren’t you? How dare I question you, how dare I criticise Mr. Perfect?”

He sighs deeply, expanding his nostrils and looking away. This is going nowhere, they both know it. Dropping his luggage on the floor, Jack leans down so his face is level with hers. He speaks slowly, carefully, softly; like someone explaining something to a child. It only fuels her ire further. “You’re not being fair. What I do in the agency is important.”

“When are you gonna understand that I have the right to feel angry at this… this situation?”, her voice is but a whisper, breaking in her throat as the words come out. His brows furrow in something reminiscent of remorse, but it’s ghostly, nearly invisible. “Maybe I’m not being fair because this isn’t a fair situation.”

“And what’s fair to you?” Jack comes closer and stares into her eyes, his demeanour full of displeasure albeit he’s clearly containing himself. “Just because you don’t see me, doesn’t mean nothing’s going on. I’m doing this for us!”

“You being here with me, that’s fucking fair!” She shouts with a frown and Jack remains silent, his gaze unreadable. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even flinch this time; his orbs hard and sharp as she adds, “that’s what I deserve.”

When being brave simply isn’t enough, what more is there to be? Resentful. (y/n) felt like anything she did inevitably led to her drowning in her own ocean of resentment towards Jack. His blue shirt now hung from the chair, moving with the soft wind coming from the half open window. He had left in a rush, something to do with the mission of the moment. She grew used to it; being second to his duties as an agent. If she called him a spy, he’d get angry and shut down for a whole week. Things only slightly went back to normal after he took her out for dinner. His career had always been an issue between them, because when he willingly leaves such an important part of who he is a secret—no matter how many euphemisms John’d find for that word—to his partner from the beginning, it means he set his priorities straight even before she occupied any position in his circle. First work, then her. And as it was from the very start, so was the end.

How could he be so distant, she wondered, yet so overbearing at the same time? Washing the dishes in silence, she reflected on the occasions he’d left her feeling weak and defenceless in his presence, surely thinking he was doing quite the opposite. She understood his protective nature to an extent, sure; being a Marine and now a field agent came with its own set of triggers and traumas. He lost a lot of people he cared about, and it seemed as though caring about her was like reliving—or rather, anticipating—every pain he ever felt when losing someone. But even though she held such empathy for his struggles, his behaviour left her at a crossroads. Jack was too busy with his work to go to therapy and work on himself, after all. She never felt quite any opening from his part for her to even dare suggest it, anyway. It seemed so trivial in the face of the things he had to endure for the “greater good”, as he had called it time and time again. The girl left out another heavy sigh.

She was dating fucking Captain America.

(y/n) places a washed cup on the sink and stares at it, her mind spiralling into the last two years of her life with Jack. Her eyes fill with tears instantly and she takes a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. When people leave your life, it shouldn’t be such a big deal. They have always come and gone, haven’t they? But the word “missing” does describe the stupid feeling very well. It’s not the longing for them, it’s the quiet laugh to that stupid joke she’d tell everyday that isn’t there now. What was once just isn’t anymore and when people leave, that’s exactly what happens; they’re somewhere else, not with you. And so there’s this insistent empty place which was filled not so long ago. The clock on the wall keeps ticking and the candles on the table melt all the same. Nothing happened, yet everything’s gone.

“Don’t do that”, Jack murmurs in the back of her memories. His words keep echoing like the sound of a ghost. He torments her every time she lets him. And she lets him more often than not. His glance is still slightly angry, but now also buried in desperation. He didn’t want to leave. It was clear and she couldn’t see it through her tears. “Please, don’t do that.”

“You’re never here anyway”, that was the last thing she ever told him. And just like that, he was gone the next day. “It won’t change anything”, was the quiet addition, after he closed the door behind him. Such a fucking lie. How could nothing change, really, when he was the reason for everything?

Walking towards the bedroom, she can’t help but laugh humorlessly at the things neatly organised. He cleaned it all prior to leaving this morning and a sad chuckle escapes her lips again. Back when they were in Moscow, she noticed right away he would be the type to drive her crazy over some dirty laundry on the floor. And she was right. They often had little arguments about domestic stuff, yet somehow, those were the best moments she could’ve spent with him. Going back and forth all day, teasing, bickering like two children was strangely soothing to her heart. Perhaps it meant that he was fallible, just like her; he could be picky and stubborn and annoying too, as opposed to his sober and unmoving nature, always in control. And it was like a breath of fresh air, to witness John let himself feel things even if for a period of time.

“Come here”, Jack coos as he pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair and sniffing deeply. She’s still a bit annoyed about their debate earlier, but he’s feeling cuddly today, rocking her body back and forth with his. There’s a playful beam on his features as he mutters, “stop being so stubborn, that’s my brand.”

“You have a lot of them”, she sticks her tongue out and he laughs soundly, tickling her side. (y/n) gasps and tries to escape his grip to no avail, big long arms holding her firmly in place. She eventually gives up and his lips meet hers in a gentle, delicate kiss. Her heart flutters in her chest as he squeezes her body, smothering her as he ever did. A small smile shows on her face and he follows her as they exchange a knowing gaze. “I love you, Dr. Ryan.”

He pecks her gently, caressing her chin, “I love you too, silly.”

Could it be that those shared moments with Jack always felt so utterly overwhelming because it was a rare thing to occur? Her stomach turned at the faint memory as if someone had been playing with her guts and she took a step back, leaving the bedroom and slamming the door. Every single thing in this house now reached her senses like poison and she just wanted to scream.

Running towards the backyard, her eyes fell on the little bedside table Jack had been working on. He made a habit out of doing woodwork and it wasn’t finished yet. She sat on the floor and studied the piece of furniture thoroughly, even though her knowledge of carpentry was about the same as her knowledge in maintaining a long distance relationship: fucking nothing. But just as she’s going to let herself drown in tears one more time that day, (y/n) hears steps coming from behind and turns her face to look at Jack standing tall, leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed.

He’s frowning, but seems more sad than mad at this point. “Are you gonna finish that for me?”

She snorts despite herself, eyeing the wood parts still waiting to be put together. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to call Greer for that. I’m no carpenter.”

That gets a small laugh from him and he sighs. “I’m sorry, (y/n)”, Jack blurts out after a few seconds of silence. She stares at the grass under her feet as he approaches, sitting beside her with his elbows leaning on his knees. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her, but his hot breath hits her cheek as he continues, “if anything, I’d like you to know that I tried.”

His words sting. They sound soft and broken at the same time, and when she glances back at him, his gaze is so gentle. Ryan searches her face in deep thought, studying every inch of it as he’s used to and (y/n) simply nods, her eyes misty with unshed tears. “I know.”

From the rust that lies deep in its throat

I hear solemn tones

The danger, the absent floors

In the silence of night, he lets me know

That I’m not coming home

#tom clancy's jack ryan #tom clancy's jack ryan x reader #jack ryan #jack ryan x reader #john krasinski #john krasinski x reader

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taylorrepdetective · 3 months ago

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Any guesses for season 2? Living full time in KC? Going to all the games? Engagement?

As I’ve said before, I believe season 2 is the most likely scenario. I believe this because it has been so successful and I don’t see a reason for her to mess with success. And I see few signs of a change. And if season 2 does happen, a big part of it will be the constant anticipation for an engagement ( and pregnancy unfortunately.) Every appearance she makes at a game would involve the GP looking at her hands and speculating about Travis asking or them announcing it publicly in some way. This would be huge publicity for both of them, and for the NFL and Chiefs. Viewership and scuttlebutt will continue to be high. I haven’t paid too much attention this off season, but I believe KC will be the favorite to go to the SB again, so that’s another chance for huge, huge publicity for her. But it is a bit of a “been there done that” situation, so that should be kept in mind. I do not know what her next big project is (re-recording, TS12, documentary, hyping herself up as a director, or something else) but if she does have something (I think we can assume a re-recording by March, so that counts) this is her promo for it, just like she used it last year for eras tour movie, 1989 tv, and TTPD. Even if she has nothing specific to promote, there’s always her brand and the perception that she likes men, along with keeping her actual private life private. For him, he has his game show and the Ryan Murphy show to promote. Plus he’s trying to do a huge podcast deal and trying to get more similar gigs, especially a movie deal.

So, short term: she goes to games (possibly as early as this Thursday - romantically flying straight from London.) She will appear to spend the bulk of the next 2 months in KC. When he has extra days off they may do something outside of kc✅. I think he’ll have a few days after this Thursday’s game✅. I don’t have the energy to look up if his bye week coincides with a tour stop, but I looked in the past, and I don’t think it does. Basically similar to last year except he probably won’t make it to a show. She’ll probably go the VMAs.

However, while I think the above is most likely, I can see several different paths that would add something more fun and interesting (for me - I have been mostly bored by travlor since January.) For example I believe that whenever the breakup is planned (tomorrow or 4 years from now) she will do it in a hilarious and well thought-out way that I am really looking forward to. I think she’ll try to top her announcing the toe breakup by switching out Invisible String and then officially announcing it at midnight, Easter, London time, on Matty’s birthday, followed by all her friends unfollowing him one by one. I won’t dare try to predict the details, except I know I will love it. And that could be tomorrow or it could be ~October, if she doesn’t plan to do the full Super Bowl thing again. Again it could also be in 4 years or even never. I do not actually know anything.

Other interesting things that could happen include releasing the rep vault and we all lose our minds. She could come out as bi. She could get engaged. There’s the election, which I assume she’ll back Harris in some way✅, but I don’t know if he’ll be involved. I do not know any of this actually. It’s all guesses. But my guess have been very good since November so there’s no reason for me to doubt I’m mostly right.

There are a few clues I’ve been watching, some stuff that started in May, that tells me a break up in the near term could happen, and if it does happen, I will let you know what those clues were. And there’re few other things I’m watching for to add to that. But I don’t really see a breakup before October to be likely. Always possible, but unlikely.

#I’m tempted to say what things I’ve been watching and anticipating as my clue that an end is near #but I’m afraid to jinx anything.#but one of them has to do with instagram. that a breakup won’t happen until sometime after that IG thing happens #because it hasn’t happened is one reason I don’t think a breakup is imminent #when it does happen you can bet I’ll post the smoking duck emoji tho #I wonder if she’ll go on the podcast to help him with his deal. maybe Ryan

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epiphainie · 5 months ago

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I think you said you don’t want to get into fandom discourse anymore and I’m not sure if this necessarily counts as discourse but if it does feel free to not respond of course. Anyway, I came across this post that stated bucktommy fans have blown their relationship out of proportion and given it more depth than it has because of the cameos Lou made talking about tommy and bucktommy. That our love and interest in them isn’t based in the source material but what Lou’s “headcanons” say.

Now I’m not going to speak for all bucktommy fans, maybe there are some that have conflated Lou’s interpretations with the source material but I can say, whenever I see bucktommy fans talking about why they love them, it’s always based in the source material (with the added invisible string theory which we all recognize was not on purpose and was a perfect little accident). Also, I personally haven’t seen any of his cameos first hand and only saw a few things on here that he mentioned in them but again, I do think the majority of us understand that most of what Lou says in his cameos re: bucktommy and tommy is not fact and we don’t use that to influence our opinion of canon. Bucktommy in canon is what has made me (and I would argue, the majority of us) love them as much as I do and made me so excited to see what could come of them and I still can’t fathom why that’s so hard for others to understand.

I also find the statement ironic because while Oliver and Ryan may not be making cameos talking about buddie, majority of these buddie shippers look to signs outside of the show to support buddie theories. If they see Oliver posting buddie on his socials, suddenly buddie is happening and buddie is real because why would he post that if they weren’t? Or Ryan saying in an interview that Buck and Eddie are going to be closer than ever this season is also some how buddie confirmation? Ryan and Oliver saying they like and send each other buddie edits is also buddie confirmation? So buddie fans can look outside of the show to influence their buddie beliefs but bucktommy fans can’t? They can love buddie be ways of outside factors but we can’t with bucktommy?

This doesn’t even take into account the fact that everything regarding seeing buddie in a romantic light is entirely fanon interpretation based on microexpressions, subtext, and dissecting scenes frame by frame, line by line -> which I’m not saying people can’t or shouldn’t do that, they are free to do so but then it’s like, you should’ve be a hypocrite, right?

tldr; some buddie fans have to accept that bucktommy fans like bucktommy because of canon and that what exists about them in canon is not nothing - maybe to them - but not everyone. just because they can’t see the solid potential in their relationship, doesn’t mean that it’s the objective truth. there are reasons to love bucktommy and if you (general you) don’t fine, just move along.

Hi anon,

I don't have anything to add because you said it all. I personally found myself shipping BuckTommy because come my 17th watch of their first kiss scene I was still smiling at my screen like a lunatic. Gonna pass on what people who cycle through made-up lasagna, shirt color, vertigo, fridge magnet theories weekly think about why I like what I like and the "validity" of that.

#mimi talks #anti buddie #i guess

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noforkingclue · 2 years ago

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Can u pls do dark!12th doctor x reader x 13th doctor in which reader is able to fake her death to escape 12th but accidentally meet 13th (when she is already with yaz n dan? Or fam? Up to 2.) u have no idea that she is the doctor at first. By then 13th might have already set her eyes on yaz but will seeing u again changed her mind? Will she let you go or trap u with her again? Up to u. Thanks in advance.

I didn't go into great detail about dark!12 and the reader's relationship. Hope you enjoy the fic!

Title: Invisible

Warnings: dark fic, referenced abusive relationship

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You died.

The Doctor had seen you die.

So how was it possible for you to be sitting outside a coffee shop watching the day go by and looking as captivating as ever? You smiled as you watched the people pass by, not a care in the world. It took a second for the Doctor to realise that you wouldn’t recognise her. Well, not unless she was standing in front of the TARDIS. You didn’t know that she had regenerated. You would be looking out for a white haired Scotsman.

Was this how you felt as you thought you were invisible?

Protected by the fact that you had so clearly died in the Doctor’s arms. The Doctor could walk right up to you and start chatting away and you would be none the wiser.

Yes, the Doctor liked that idea.

The Doctor wondered how you would be with a random stranger (at least to you) coming up and talking to you. Maybe she should wait a bit until the café got busier. Then she could ask to join you under the guise of there being no free tables. You used to be so welcoming and the Doctor hoped that her previous regeneration hadn’t damaged that too much.

She watched as you took a slip of your drink and stuck your tongue out to lick up a stray drop from the corner of your mouth. Fuck, the Doctor missed the feeling of your lips against hers. She just wished that you would’ve returned her kisses with that same passion as she had given them. Maybe if you had she wouldn’t have had to bruise you as much. Then again, you did bruise incredibly prettily.

You frowned as you looked around and the Doctor immediately stopped looking at you. You glanced over her but didn’t spare her a second look. This was London after all, the Doctor wasn’t dressed in any way that made her stand out. Not like that coat she used to wear. She couldn’t help but smile though. Clearly you sensed something was wrong but couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Even if you did, would you necessarily know it was her?

“Hey Doc, you ready?”

Immediately you stiffened at the name and the Doctor hopped to her feet. She swiftly marched over the Ryan, Yaz and Graham before you had a chance to notice them. After all, it wouldn’t do her any good to lose her advantage so quickly.

You still thought you were invisible

#fanfiction #doctor who #reader insert #request #the doctor #the doctor x reader #Twelfth Doctor #twelfth doctor x reader #Thirteenth Doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #dark

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dandylion240 · 7 months ago

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Can you do the whole Ultimate Relationship list for Jayden & Evan? I'm patient, so no rush! (plus, turnabout is fair play, right?) ;-)

thanks!

Jayden and Evan - thank you for asking!

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Neither. It wasn't always like that though. In the early years of their relationship he would lose his patience with Evan especially when he'd bring work home and Evan wanted to talk to Jayden.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Early in their relationship Evan threatened to leave because he felt unappreciated and invisible. He felt that the only thing that mattered to Jayden was his job. So he gave Jayden an ultamatum and Jayden didn't think he would.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Evan did. He got his own apartment in the City and moved out.

Who trashes the house?

Neither.

Do either of them get physical?

Never.

How often do they argue/disagree?

They disagree quite often. Over the years they've learned to sit down and talk things through. If they can't do that they seek out their dad friend, Hayle, and ask for advice.

Who is the first to apologise?

Evan probably sees the need to apologise first where Jayden had to learn that there are times he needs to apolgolise. It was a difficult lesson and one where he almost lost Evan for good.

Sex:

Who is on top? Who is on the bottom?

Jayden is top and Evan is bottom. However due to Jayden's physical limitations they mostly cuddle in bed except for when Jayden is feeling especially well.

Who has the strangest desires?

I don't think either of them have any strange desires.

Any kinks?

None

Who’s dominant in bed?

Probably Jayden; although Evan has his moments and Jayden is more than willing to let him.

Is head ever in the equation?

Quite likely.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Evan is

Ever had sex in public?

Well there was that one time in the backyard in Jayden's parents hot tub. They were both in high school at the time.

Who moans the most?

Probably Evan but neither one is especially loud or vocal

Who leaves the most marks?

Neither.

Who screams the loudest?

Neither.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Their experience is exactly the same. They were each other's first and only.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Definitely make love.

Rough or soft?

When they were younger they were experimental but they never got extremely rough with each other. Over the years though they've had to make adjustments to accomodate things that Evan wouldn't do and things that Jayden couldn't do anymore.

How long do they usually last?

Before Jayden's back injury they could go for a long time but now it depends upon his pain level.

Is protection used?

Mostly

Does it ever get boring?

Not for them

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

Jayden's parent's hot tub when they were teenagers.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?

Yes they do. Jayden always wanted a large family.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have?

Jayden always wanted four. After his accident they had difficulty getting pregnant and after they lost their son they decided not to try again. They looked into adoption and were lucky to get approved to adopt Ryan. Jayden is happy witht he family he has.

Who is the favorite parent?

Evan knows his kids love him but he's well aware that he's not the favorite. He doesn't begrudge Jayden that honor either.

Who is the authoritative parent?

They both are. They discuss things together and back each other up so that the kids can't go to the other to get a different answer.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?

They both do. Sometimes they'll just go do something as a family or stay at home and play games. Everyone needs a day off now and then.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?

Neither. They trust the kids not to over indulge when there are treats around.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?

Neither Josie and Ryan are into many extra curricular activities. For a a couple of years Josie was a cheer leader but quit once Jolene graduated and wasn't there to pressure her. Ryan was on the swim team. But Jayden and Evan went to everything their kids were in to support them.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews?

They both go.

Who changes the diapers?

They took turns changing diapers.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?

They took turns.

Who spends the most time with the children?

Jayden does. He works from home due to his back injury so he's home when the kids come home from school and he's there when the kids go to school.

Who packs their lunch boxes?

Jayden does mostly except on days he can't get out of bed then Evan does it.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’?

They do it together even though Jayden will be thinking they can't be old enough for the talk yet.

Who cleans up after the kids?

Jayden cleans up after the kids go to school and Evan is at work. He has all day to a little bit at a time.

Who worries the most?

Jayden tends to worry more.

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

From school or their cousins. Neither Jayden or Evan swear or at least not that much.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?

They both like to cuddle.

Who is the little spoon?

Jayden is.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Neither

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

Both. They're both quite handsy but they do limit it to holding hands, hugs and kisses when the kids are around.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

It depends a lot on Jayden's pain level. Sometimes a few minutes sometimes an hour or so.

Who gives the most kisses?

Evan does. Although Jayden gives a lot too.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Cuddling on the couch watching one of Evan's favorite romantic movies together.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

On the couch. Jayden is probably lying down with this head in Evan's lap and Evan is running his fingers through Jayden's hair.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?

Probably Evan especially if he's trying to distract Jayden from worrying about something.

How often do they get time to themselves?

Not as often as they used to before kids but they do plan weekends when the kids are staying with their cousins or with Hayle and Chris.

Sleeping:

Who snores?

Neither

If both do, who snores the loudest?

n/a

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

They share although Evan has offered to sleep on the couch when any motions causes Jayden excruciating pain.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They prefer to cozy up together whenever Jayden's pain level allows.

Who talks in their sleep?

Evan talks in his sleep.

What do they wear to bed?

They wear boxers

Are either of your muses insomniacs?

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Yes sometimes Jayden needs to take something to help him sleep when his pain is especially bad.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

They often fall asleep holding each other.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both

Who wakes up first?

Evan usually wakes up first unless Jayden wakes up due to pain.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Evan does.

What is their favourite sleeping position?

They like to fall asleep on their sides with some part of them touching each other.

Who hogs the sheets?

Evan is prone to hog the sheets.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Yes. Evan sets an alarm just in case he oversleeps.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

No. TV's aren't for the bedroom. At least not for them.

Who has nightmares?

They both tend to have nightmares.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Both

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Evan

Who makes the bed?

Jayden does since he's usually the last one up.

What time is bed time?

Usually it's around 9:00 after they put the kids to bed. They'll be in bed talking for a while.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Jayden usually takes a long hot bath to help him relax.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Jayden.

Work:

Who is the busiest?

Evan is pretty busy between his volunteer work at the homeless shelter and his work at social services.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Evan does but once Jayden makes his name in the art world Jayden will.

Are any of your muses unemployed?

Technially Jayden is but he's an artist and working towards his first exhibit.

Who takes the most sick days?

Evan does since he generally takes the kids and Jayden to doctor appointments.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Neither

Who sucks up to their boss?

Neither

What are their jobs?

Evan works as a social service agent

Jayden rediscovered his love for art and has sold a few paintings and working towards putting on his own showing

Who stresses the most?

The both stress over different things.

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

Evan likes being able to help people.

Jayden likes being able to let his creative side out.

Are your muses financially stable?

Yes

Home:

Who does the washing?

Jayden

Who takes out the trash?

Evan

Who does the ironing?

Evan

Who does the cooking?

They take turns

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Neither

Who is messier?

Evan

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Neither

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Neither

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Neither

Who is the prankster around the house?

Neither

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Evan

Who mows the lawn?

Evan

Who answers the telephone?

They have their own phones

Who does the vacuuming?

Evan

Who does the groceries?

Evan. He usually stops on his way home from work.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Evan just because Jayden usually takes a bath.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Jayden.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?

How many cars do they own?

two - one that Evan uses to go back and forth to work and one that's been modified for Jayden to use.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Yes

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?

They live in a small town by the coast

Do they live in the city or in the country?

Small town

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yes they do but they might move in the future to be closer to their daughter.

What’s their song?

You are the Reason - Calum Scott

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Except for when Jayden's been in the hospital they haven't been apart. Evan hates those times when Jayden is in the hospital and he barely sleeps.

Where did they first meet?

They met when they were both in high school. But it wasn't until they were at the romance festival that they realized they liked each other. Evan was there with Jonah and Jayden was there with Ethan.

How did they first meet?

You could say that Jayden stole his twin's date and Jayden felt bad but not half as bad as he felt for setting Jonah up with Ethan.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Jayden likes nice things so he spends more on his clothes than Evan does.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Neither are the type.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Neither. Evan would tend to rush over to Jayden to make sure he's alright.

Any mental issues?

They've gone to and still sometimes attend grief support groups after losing their son.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Neither

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Evan does.

Their favourite place?

In each other's arms.

Who pays the bills?

Jayden keeps track of all the household bills

Do they have any fears for their future?

Jayden worries about Evan growing old while he ages at a much slower rate. He doesn't like to think of a future without Evan in it.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Jayden will sometimes surprise Evan with a fancy dinner at home. Evan doesn't like going out to fancy restaurants anymore.

Who uses up all of the hot water?

Jayden with his hot baths

Who’s the tallest?

Evan is taller.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Evan sometimes joins Jayden in the bath

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Both

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Jayden does. He's a pretty good singer and he knows how to play the guitar. His dad taught him.

What do they tease each other about?

Jayden will tease Evan about not being able to find a hat to match his outfit on the few times he's not wearing one.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Jayden no longer attempts to talk Evan out of wearing a hat with everything.

Do they have mutual friends?

Yes they do. Hayle and Chris are their closest friends.

Who crushed first?

I think it was a mutual attraction.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

No. Jayden dislikes having to take his pain pills and sometimes waits too long to take them because he doesn't want to become dependent upon them.

Who is more likely to stumble home drunk at 3am?

Neither

Who swears the most?

Neither

#evan o'neil #jayden reagan #ts4 #character development

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