#hes like charismatic and promising
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the-sunflower-room · 3 months ago
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scared half to death
🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 
☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers
☆ wc: 2.7k
☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.
☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language
note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)
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“Where is she?”
Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.
But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.
All because of her.
He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.
“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.
Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”
They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.
“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.
Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.
“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 
“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”
She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.
“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.
“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.
“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.
They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.
She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.
But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.
“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.
Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.
Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.
Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.
“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.
“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.
���If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.
Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.
He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.
He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.
It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.
It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.
“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”
His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.
She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.
A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.
“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.
“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.
He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.
He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.
“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.
Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 
His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.
The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.
“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.
“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.
His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.
“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.
“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.
“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”
Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.
Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.
“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.
“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.
His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.
The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.
He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.
Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.
But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.
“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.
He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.
His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.
“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.
“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.
“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 
“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”
She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.
Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.
“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”
He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.
“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”
Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.
This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.
If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.
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therabbitthatpostthings · 1 year ago
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You can always tell by the A03 tags which group of characters is a found family and which is a group of co-workers the fandom wants you to believe is a found family.
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monstersholygrail · 1 month ago
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Two words: Faerie lawyer
Omg it could be like that meme with the monster deals.
You had gotten into some seriously issues and you had no idea what to do. Not only was human law enforcement up your ass, but the magical law enforcement was fucking you over on their glitter-covered cocks and leaving you to clean up the mess. No aftercare in damn sight.
But the real issue was that no lawyer, human or otherwise, wanted to take your case! They were all too scared. Not of you but what the hell you got yourself into. It wasn’t your fault. You were always weak for a charismatic douchebag who promised he loved you but then framed you for a series of crimes he committed. What can you say, you have bad taste.
It wasn’t until you were guided out of your temporary cell and into a questioning room to see a lawyer with his back to you that you finally had hope threatening to sprout within you. Until the idiot turned around and you instantly pick up on his Fae ears. The moment you sit down he starts to spout out some wonderful words of grandeur, promising he can get you off and set you free. Your brows rise at his word choice.
“And what will it cost me?” You finally ask once he’s done giving his whole sales pitch (mini-canons and sparklers included). A wicked gleam passes over his features and it sends a shiver racing down your spine. What kind of shiver? You know yourself well enough to figure it out.
“Oh, nothing much. I merely want to have your firstborn child. In exchange, I will help get you off.”
His words send another shiver throughout your entire body. Meeting his intense stare you narrow your eyes, trying to figure out how you can manipulate this to your advantage. You’re in a battle of wits with a Fae and you did not consider that possibility when you wondered the other day how long you could stay awake before insanity started to set in awaiting your trial.
“Deal,” you finally say. The Faerie’s eyes sparkle with mischief. Though it falters as you mirror the expression. “So when do we get to it?”
“HMMM? Pardon me?”
“You said you wanted to have my firstborn. Well, I’m ready to begin when you are.”
The Faerie Lawyer’s cheeks flood with color. His face turning warm under your suggestive and mischievous smirk. He squirms in his suit, the blasted outfit suddenly feeling too tight and too warm to keep on for a moment longer. His eyes blaze with lust and he looks just about ready to take you on the metal table standing between you two. The one you’re conveniently chained to.
He did not consider this possibility earlier when he decided to take advantage of being selected as your court-appointed attorney. But hey, he’s not complaining now.
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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months ago
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A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton
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Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: none
wordcount: +3k
a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
_______________________________________
The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.
Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.
The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.
He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.
“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”
Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.
The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”
Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.
His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”
Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”
The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.
There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.
The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”
His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”
As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.
They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.
The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.
Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.
The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.
“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”
Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”
She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”
Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.
“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”
Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.
“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”
Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.
Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”
For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.
“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”
Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.
She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”
Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.
The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.
“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”
Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”
Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”
He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”
The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.
“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.
“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”
“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”
She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.
“Have I ever made you jealous?”
Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”
His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”
He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”
Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.
For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”
Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.
“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.
Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”
“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.
Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.
“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”
This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”
Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”
She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”
For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.
He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.
She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”
The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.
“What’s something you wish you did more often?”
Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”
She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”
“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”
She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”
Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.
“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”
She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”
The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”
“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”
Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”
“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”
Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”
“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.
“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”
She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”
Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”
“When did you first know that you were in love?”
This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”
She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”
Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.
“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”
Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”
She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”
“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”
“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”
“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”
She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”
“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.
“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”
Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”
“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”
For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.
She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”
Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.
The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.
“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”
Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.
Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”
“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”
The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”
His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”
The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”
“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.
Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”
The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”
Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”
And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.
The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.
Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.
“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.
Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”
She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”
He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.
She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”
She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”
Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”
She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”
He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”
Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.
Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.
For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.
“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”
“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”
She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”
Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”
She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”
“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”
He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”
“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”
______________________________________________________________
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queenie-the-court-jester · 8 months ago
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you'll be back.
Yandere rockstar x reader
A/n: this was very rushed so I'll fix it later, but please enjoy! 🌺
Tw: dub con turns to non con, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, yandere ex boyfriend, very minor angst
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🎸you hated him. Hated his guts, his handsome looks, the way he'd wrap his arm around your waist as if you were still dating. His spotless dark skin you were so envious of, that dumb charismatic smile. You hated it. Why did he do this to you? Always running back and begging you to let him stay for a while. And you'd let him. Why? You didn't know
🔥 Maxine knew. It's because you still loved him. He knew you did. Why else would you let him climb into your bed and hold you close? Why else would you let him kiss your lips? Why else would you let him undress you slowly with so much love
🎸he was a mess for you, no matter how many fans he had, they could never replace you. All the girls he slept with after your breakup? None of them compared. He loved you more than his love for the life he had. But if he did, why did he pick it over you?
🔥 highschool sweethearts, well, up until you both graduated and he started a band. They were small, but slowly grew in the following year. Having multiple companies reach out in hopes of striking a record deal. Soon, nightly Melodies came to be.
🎸you forgot his bandmates names, they weren't really important to you since they didn't bother trying to know their leaders lover. Good riddance you say. You never liked how that drummer kept staring at him.. not to mention his fans were psychopaths. Harassing you online and sometimes even in real life. He didn't even care after you'd complain about it
🔥you were eachother's first time, first everything. So ofcourse it hurt when you finally confronted him after he skipped your date night for the 10th time that month. He never had time for you anymore, brushing you off in favor of hanging out with his "friends"
"just calm down babe geez.. it's not that big of a deal.."
"not that big huh? Well then, if you care so little about actually being a good boyfriend, consider yourself single."
🎸you left him to stare at you in shock as you packed your bags, he tried stopping you. Begging you to stay, blocking the door, standing behind your car as you tried driving away. He promised he could change. But you knew otherwise. You were done
🔥months later, he stalks your socials and keeps sending you gifts. All until you start to crumble and let him in slowly. He knew you wouldn't last long. His reputation and band be damned. All he wanted was you.
🔞you could only stare at him, unsure as he kissed the valley between your breasts and trailed lower, hands rubbing up and down your sides. You could feel his dick press against your leg, your clothing scattered all over the bedroom floor
"there there pretty baby.. let me take care of you hm? Such a good girl.. want me to fuck this pretty pussy as a reward? Hm?"
🔞he slowly pushes the tip inside after teasing you relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Letting out Little groans as he slipped in inch by inch. Praising you for taking him so well, cutting himself off and letting out a lewd gasp after he felt you squeeze him
🔞 he starts off slow and steady, he doesn't last long as he's practically fucking you into the bed. Crying out tears of euphoria at the feeling of you sucking him in deeper, the tip bullying your cervix
"f-uuuckkk pretty ma', hah.. I don't think I can last long- a-ah!"
🔞he refuses to stop after cumming inside you once. Babbling something about knocking you up and filling you up with his children. Gathering some sense of clarity you tried begging him to stop, but he clamped a hand over your mouth. Pinning you down and angling your hips higher. Blue eyes staring down at you with manic glee
🔞drool drips down his chest as he pants and groans, he only stops until he's fully drained and each touch of his skin makes his hips spasm. Pulling you flush against him he practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your chest. You couldn't help but wince at the cold feeling of his lip piercings rub against your bare skin. Tiredly reaching a hand up to play with his dark curly hair
🔞you better hope the test comes back positive, because if it doesn't he'll just keep going every night until you're swollen with his child. This may dampen his image a bit but he couldn't care less. Staring fondly at your tummy and the ring on your finger. He was holding your hand as you both Walked into an important event, He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his wife!
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prael · 2 months ago
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Phonecalls
Kinktember Day 24: Vicarphilia
IVE Gaeul x male or female reader smut
words: 3,757 Kinktember Masterlist
Happy Gaeul day!
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Gaeul is the personification of the phrase ‘Don't judge a book by its cover.’
A big personality inside a small stature, Gaeul's appearance belies her true self. She's enigmatic, she's witty, she's charismatic, she's funny, and most importantly, she's honest. Honest, almost, to a fault.
She's your best friend, and she has always had your back. When you were down, she would always pull you back up. When you were lost, she would always find you. Gaeul has always been there for you no matter what, and you always knew you could rely on her. You trust Gaeul implicitly, and she does you.
There's this other side to Gaeul too, see, she looks ever so innocent. The way her voice always carries with excitement, it's always so full of life and wonder. Innocence is always an assumption people have of Gaeul. It's completely, and utterly incorrect, but people tend to assume it nonetheless.
Gaeul called you up as she usually does, and yes, you were busy, but not even an hour later you found yourself at a cafe sitting across from her. It was important, or so she said.
"Look at this message. He definitely wants to bone me, right?" Just like that, you had your regular reminder that all those assumptions about Gaeul are wrong.
"I don't know, he just said he wants to get drinks," you answered, albeit in the least convincing tone in your arsenal. Of course, he wanted to bone her.
"Exactly, drinking leads to being drunk and being drunk leads to boning."
"I've gotten drunk around you loads of times and we never ended up in bed together."
Gaeul squinted at you disapprovingly. "Well, we almost—"
"We don't talk about that, remember. Anyway, what's the problem, isn't this basically your dream Friday night? Boy meets girl, boy and girl get drunk, boy takes girl home, boy and girl fuck until they fall asleep," you told her, tilting your iced coffee in her direction as a gesture of encouragement.
"So you do think he's gonna bone me?" Gaeul asked, leaning back on her seat as she chewed on her bottom lip, no longer sure what to think of this text.
"Okay, maybe, but what's the problem?"
"He seems a bit clingy. He's all 'It would be cool if we could get dinner before' or 'I'd love it if we could go watch that new film that's out'," she groaned. "What am I, his girlfriend?"
Some psychiatrists would probably diagnose this as something born out of attachment issues or maybe some insecurity. Whatever, why bother with the analysis? She just hates relationships. 
She's young and having fun—a lot of fun. Sex, and plenty of it. Men and women in equal supply. Either way, relationships aren't on her agenda.
That's not what this story is, anyway. This story is not about Gaeul, not really. Her raunchy nights with strangers are important, but for you, it's more about the morning after.
"So cut it off with him, then. Give him some fake excuse and ghost him before you have another person falling for you."
She slammed her head onto the wooden table of the cafe. "Easier said than done. I mean he's funny. And he's pretty cute." She peered at you, an evil grin now curling her lips, "And I still want to bang him."
"Gaeul, we both know how this ends, you're going to see him tonight and you're ending the night on your back."
"Counter argument: maybe I'm on top."
"Alright, sure, but why am I here? You're only going to call me right after anyway."
"Well..." Gaeul said, leaning closer. "He has this friend and—"
"No, I'm good," you told her and she reeled back from your instant rejection, her eyes wide as if you'd shot her dead.
"Ugh, you're no fun." She shrugged, unfazed, as her hands flew across her phone's screen.
"You know where I get my fun."
"I'll call you after, don't worry," Gaeul said with a slight curve in the corner of her mouth, and that was the promise you held her to.
The promise she was right now upholding. Your phone is ringing with a call from Gaeul and it's the perfect way to start your morning. You smile, content that your best friend has kept to her promise.
"So? How'd it go, was he as big as you hoped?" You ask as you roll over onto your side and prop yourself on one elbow, the smooth fabric of your silken sheets beneath you.
"Big enough," she says followed by a satisfied hum, and you can just imagine that Gaeul must have the kind of stupid, satisfied smile that reaches her ears right now, "The things I let people do to me."
You shake your head and roll your eyes at that last part. "Come on, Gaeul, are you going to keep talking vague? The suspense is killing me." Your lips spread into a teasing grin that you're pretty sure Gaeul can hear through the call. You do very much appreciate her elaborate storytelling.
"Alright fine," she sighs, and the satisfaction is still there, if the subtle laugh she gives is any indication. "The drinks were good and went down easy. There was the small talk and the questions. So, I told him, he could ask any question as long as I got to ask any question I wanted afterwards. We were curious enough about each other and eager enough. We agreed.
"He started with these boring ones, 'What made you dye your hair black', 'Do you prefer salty or sweet foods', and all that other shit. But then I asked him a question that made his eyes pop."
"What was it?" You ask. Gaeul pauses, but the anticipation is a welcome feeling. Her playful silence lets the anticipation rise in you.
"I asked him, 'My face or my ass'?" You both laugh. That was so typical of Gaeul. Typical, but ever so effective.
"And what did he pick?"
"My face, though I don't think he understood I was asking him where he would prefer to cum. His face was so innocent when he said it. I wanted to give him a pat on the head for such a good answer," she explains in an exaggerated cutesy voice.
"He was all the usual, 'Oh you're so pretty' and 'Oh you're so adorable'. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'm not saying he wasn't right because I do look really pretty," Gaeul quipped, to which you smiled, and she continued, "It went on for a while, he started asking some... hotter things. About how and when I touch myself."
"Usual guy stuff, sure," you joke, and you take delight in how she snorts a little giggle.
"Sure, well, next came his inevitable, 'Want to head back to mine?' Of course, I said 'Yes'. Then he said he would call us a cab, which, thank god, because it's much harder to do hand stuff on a bus compared to a cab."
"But not impossible," you interjected, remembering how she once described being felt up by someone in a packed train car. The way she grinned as she recounted it made her quite the bad girl.
"Anyway, we get in the cab and he just can't keep his hands off me. All over my tits and shit," she lets out a dark chuckle before her voice falls deeper, lower, sensual, and with the emphasis of a dangerous edge, "Don't know if the driver appreciated it but I sure as fuck did."
"Tell me more," you say, putting Gaeul on loudspeaker and placing the phone on the pillow by your head. You lay flat on your back and stretch your muscles. The joints of your toes curl into the sheets and push them down into the mattress as you arc your spine, and the deep inhale you take through your open mouth is soon followed by a relaxed exhale.
"He just slipped his hand up my shirt while she kissed my neck," Gaeul continues, bringing the memory to life with her words. She recounts in precise and deliberate detail how her nipples went hard the instant she was touched, the electricity sparking inside of her as he pinched at them with thumb and forefinger.
There's a rustling from the other side of the call before she continues her story, "We get in his place, he gets the door locked behind him, and the first thing I feel is his hot breath against my ear. It was warm and it tickled just a little bit. Then he whispered in a low voice that I can tell he thought was seductive."
"What did he say?" You ask, eagerly.
"'Fuck, I've never been this horny with someone so quick before'," Gaeul says and pauses. You both share a small laugh before she goes on, "Honestly, I did think it was kinda sexy at the moment, you know? Then he pulls off my shirt. Doesn't even unbutton it, just over my head with all the buttons. Guess the horniness was getting to him."
"Can't blame him." you run your hand up your own torso, fingertips barely brushing over the smooth, warm skin.
"And fuck, I was horny too. I was hungry. I turned and pinned him to his door, you should have seen the shock on his face, and I planted a kiss right on his lips. He wasn't that great. Wasn't really my type of kisser, actually. Too stiff, his lips were too dry, but still a kiss. I guess," Gaeul gives every little detail about him; from how his height stood a whole head taller than her, to how his eyes shone in the dark with a hint of anticipation. "I wasn't there for the kissing, so it was fine, and that's when his hands grabbed my ass. He was so rough, you should have heard the smack his palm made as it landed."
You hum in approval and bring a hand between your legs. In your mind's eye, you see her ass being spanked and groped, and you feel yourself growing more aroused. "Go on."
"Rough hands," Gaeul breathes into the phone. "I fucking love it."
"Yeah..." You sigh grab hold of your thighs and stretch out the tension.
"I could feel it, how hard he was, poking through his trousers and into my stomach."
"You loved feeling how hard you got him, didn't you?"
"Fuck yeah," her voice, dripping in lust and sex, was deep and steady like it always was when she gets like this. "So I dropped to my knees, practically ripped open his belt buckle and pulled down his zipper. And those pants fell to his ankles just like that, and then came the thing I was actually there for."
"Let's hear it," you urged.
"Like I said, good size, that's for sure, I've seen way worse. No way near the biggest dick that I've taken though. Anyway, I start stroking him with one hand," Gaeul lets out a gasp. You're not quite sure if it's for the benefit of her storytelling, but her sounds have always driven you crazy. "And then with my other, I've got his balls cupped and he's fucking loving it.
"I could tell, his cock was getting so big and so hot. It throbbed so much in my hands, so much so I could feel the blood pumping through him. And my hands were moving faster, my lips, teasing his tip, kissing, nibbling, even licking. I loved every fucking second because his dick tasted so good. After all, I could feel how worked up he was. So, I took him whole, you should have heard him moan, it was the cutest groan,"
Gaeul then breathes out heavily into the microphone, and her breath hitches in her throat and comes out short and sharp. You close your eyes and try and imagine the scene, and Gaeul must be reliving it too as you listen to her soft, sharp, wet breathing over the line. You tease yourself and plead with her, "Don't stop."
"And I'm looking up at him, through my lashes, and his eyes are almost pleading like he was trying so hard to hold his cum. Like he's trying to impress me, prove to me how much stamina he has. He's letting little moans and grunts out from his cute little lips, he's gripping the door handle so tight his fingers were white, and his knees are trembling. He's about to cum in my mouth, and my pussy is aching for him," she continues and lets her sentence trail off into a whining moan as she imagines his dick twitching inside her mouth.
"So quickly?" You ask, pushing your underwear down to your knees.
"I'm just that good, babe. The second my mouth met the shaft of his cock he was practically ready to burst. My tongue was dancing over the head, and I could taste the precum," Gaeul recalls. Her voice sizzles in your ears, and it is more like a deep purr, and it sends thrills down your body. A soft exhale escapes your mouth, and you're imagining her tongue caressing a hard dick. "And I'm only sucking harder now, stroking him faster. My left hand gripping onto him tight and tugging away. My right cradling those balls of his."
"All to make him cum," you utter in an aroused voice that you tried to hide but couldn't.
"Shit babe, it worked. I didn't even have time to prepare for him," she recounts. "He bucks his hips into my mouth. Barely has a chance to grab my head, he just blows so soon. All his cum was hot, and he was flooding my mouth."
"Shit..." You moan softly as you visualise a young man bucking his hips and releasing into Gaeul's mouth.
"Did I just go over to his to swallow his cum?" She asks and gives a laugh.
"I hope not."
"You wanna know what's funny?"
"Tell me," you plead to her.
"He came so quick that he went bright red, embarrassed, stuttering like a schoolboy that got caught smoking by the principal. All the courage he built up earlier in the taxi ride was completely gone. I couldn't help but laugh, mouth full of his cum, laughing at him. But I'm not going to lie. As he deflated so fast after he blew, all that bravado disappeared."
You let out a soft, something, barely a laugh, hesitating to touch as Gaeul grinds the story to a halt.
"Not funny?" she asks.
"Just, wish you'd continue, kinda in the middle of something here."
"Sorry, okay, where was I," Gaeul trails her words. "So I swallowed every drop, wiped at my chin where I've spilt a little and the guy still looks like he's going to die. I wanted him to suffer in the embarrassment a little, I wasn't going to tell him 'It's okay', so I got up and pulled him across his apartment. The guy nearly fell over his trousers since they were still on his ankles until he kicked them off.
"So the guy is a bit of a clean freak, by the way, the apartment was spotless. Somehow, I'm leading him to his own bed, don't know where the fuck I'm going but I find it and push him onto it. At this point, the guy's half-naked, sprawled, with his hand over his dick."
"All shy after your pretty lips have gotten him off, huh?"
"Right." Gaeul laughs, "So I stand at the edge of his bed, kick off my sneakers then pull down my jeans and drop them beside him. Then, he's staring at me and I ask him, 'Like the view?'"
"Stupid question, you're smoking," you interject with a smirk on your lips.
"The guy says, and I quote, 'Holy cow.' Who the fuck says 'holy cow'? Holy cow, babe, just holy cow," Gaeul starts laughing something manic, a cackle which is matched with a soft sigh, "Then, I just kinda laughed, like really, really laughed. It's all absurd, you get what I mean?"
"Oh god no he didn't?" You asked though the amusement was already creeping through.
"Right? What an idiot. Well, he was turning redder and redder as I was dying of laughter. It's about this time I realised I was so horny I had seduced pretty much the biggest loser in the city. Anyway, I had to shut him up, so I climbed onto the bed, and then onto his face. Dropped myself onto his stupid mouth. And then..."
"Then?" you prod her on.
"His lips and his tongue..." She makes a small moan, pleased, deep and sexy, and the sound is so hot. "Hungry boy. He starts lapping at my pussy like he was starved. He's all groaning and humming, and the vibration. That feels fucking great."
"Oh fuck..." You let a tiny sigh, one that you meant to keep to yourself, escape your lips. Gaeul keeps talking and in your mind, you're there with her—her voice fills your mind and draws an image. She tells you how she fucks his mouth, your imagination takes over.
"His tongue dances on me, licking over my lips, my clit, his lips were smacking and sucking on my most sensitive parts. He was so... energetic," Gaeul tells you. Your eyes closed, you can only imagine, in full detail, every stroke and flicker of his tongue as she described it. "Worshiping my pussy like it's the best thing in the world. So when his hands are grabbing hold of my ass and bringing my cunt to him even harder... Shit," Gaeul breaks from the story and swears.
You can't hold back anymore, touching yourself to the thought.
"He wanted this so bad. His hands were clamping hard onto me. His mouth sucking on me like a fucking vacuum. His tongue was all over the place. Everywhere it touches is like a jolt of electricity going through me. It's sending such great signals up my spine, right to my brain." Gaeul lets out a full, deep moan. One that is as tantalising as her words. It's followed by the sound of rustling. "I start just grinding down into his stupid fucking face."
You'd love nothing else in the world right now than to have Gaeul ride your face. "I can't get over how fucking delicious you would look like," you tease, "With that dumb guy, pinned under you,"
"I was moaning like crazy. If the neighbours were asleep, well, not anymore," Gaeul describes.
"Fuck," you respond as you find rhythm. You lose track of everything else, picturing Gaeul riding his stupid face until she cums.
Gaeul moans again, louder now, and with a husky, raspiness to her tone that you have memorised.
"There is no shame left in me, my hips moving into him with a need, a need for release," Gaeul chokes, then resumes with a pace of her own, "I can feel his fingers digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, and he was rocking my cunt even harder into his hungry mouth. His tongue, working so good. So, good...
"Just remembering how it felt... I'm gonna..." Gaeul moans again, throaty and harsh, and you picture it all in your head. She is sitting up in bed, legs wide apart, and fingers buried deep inside of her pussy. Moaning into her phone, moaning to you.
It's an amazing fucking image.
"I can feel my entire body starting to go warm, my thighs clamping onto the poor guy's skull. Oh my fucking god, his tongue, I love it, his tongue," Gaeul makes a long, low and whimpering moan, like the air was squeezed out of her lungs. "It feels like I've lost myself in time, completely. I'm going faster, my hips rolling into him faster and faster, desperate for relief. Then all of a sudden, it's all hitting at once, the spark just lights and I am exploding like a supernova, my core just bursting, and my pussy flooding his fucking stupid mouth."
You're chasing her high. "Shit," you find yourself whispering, softly at first and getting louder as you feel yourself nearing that beautiful feeling of sweet relief.
"I'm cumming so hard, his tongue is still going, still drawing out every last bit of my climax as he keeps feeding on me. The sheer fucking madness of the sensation... fuck, imagine that."
"Yeah..." You groan. "I am."
"You're so filthy," her words drip of sultry sex and that tease in her voice sends a tremor down to the base of your spine, setting your insides ablaze as the blood in your veins rises, the throbbing inside you reaching an incomparable peak. "Are you getting off to my story? I fucking dare you."
You close your eyes and breathe in the thought of her. Every inch of her lustful body, "I am."
"Fucking perv," she growls, her breathing sharp and shaky, erratic. A sound that resonates within your bones, and shakes you to the core. "Bet you want your lips wrapped around my clit. Let you suck the sweet nectar from my tight, hot pussy," she breathes through her teeth in a hissing sound as she falls over that edge. You can feel her shiver and quake. You hear every little shuddering whimper, every moan that escapes her soft, pretty little lips, and they ignite every sense in your body as if you can feel the electricity coursing through every nerve in her body, just as it is inside you.
You cum for her. You always cum for her, just like this. Your toes curl and your back arches. You twist, writhing under the feeling, your skin blazing as sweat rolls over it, your whole world coming to a beautiful standstill. You can't help but cry out her name in your bed.
"Nothing else makes me cum like this," you mumble, breathless and ragged as you finish, then add "You slut."
"How does it make you feel, hearing my dirty sex stories first thing in the morning?" Gaeul purrs. There is a sinister satisfaction in her tone, and that coy smile curling the corner of her mouth is definitely there in her voice. You can imagine it clear as day because it has been etched into your brain, that stupid, irresistible grin of hers.
"More," you beg, the aftermath of your orgasm, leaving the inside of your body searing hot, a sensation that you want desperately more of.
"Not now. Later," she sneers, knowing how it kills you inside.
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peachsayshi · 9 months ago
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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter. 
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬・tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬・ wc: 3,383
↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx
nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table. 
a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away. 
he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home. 
your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to. 
you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current. 
he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.
he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.  
shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately. 
“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat. 
that student was his responsibility... 
...and he failed him entirely. 
“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango.  “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!” 
her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day. 
he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down. 
“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet. 
right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her... 
“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on. 
“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair. 
“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles. 
“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”
“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!” 
she’s only six. 
she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction. 
he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty. 
he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.  
he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…
all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.  
“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.” 
his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him. 
the room is dead silent. 
your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice. 
what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.  
nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place. 
he regrets his words immediately. 
he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room. 
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next. 
fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.
you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists. 
“kento?” 
he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away. 
after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry. 
“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement. 
his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?” 
the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright. 
“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug. 
nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.
your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.
a safety, a reassurance of home.
you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."
a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.
nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."
you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.
"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"
"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.
"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."
you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."
"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.
"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.
your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.
she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.
he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.
"my love?" he calls out to her.
his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.
"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.
"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."
her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.
she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.
"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.
her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.
nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.
she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.
he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.
“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.
“and what tale are we reading tonight?”
she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”
nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.
“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”
“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
nanami’s heart sinks.
that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.
“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.
her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.
nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”
she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.
“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”
“why was it bad?”
nanami sighs once again.
she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".
thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.
“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”
"shaken up?"
"scared, my love"
his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.
nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.
his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.
nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.
"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"
she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.
"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.
your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"
"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.
nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.
"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"
nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.
"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"
she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.
"I did?"
nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.
"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”
“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"
"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."
・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・・゚ ・゚·:。・゚゚・
after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.
“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.
you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.
“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”
“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.
“shall I carry on?”
“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."
"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.
"I know so, papa!"
"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"
"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"
"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"
"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.
you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.
“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."
"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.
you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.
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kamiraaah · 1 month ago
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TWST PARENTS! Howl, Zigvolt and Viper!!
⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...
Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Howl, Zigvolt, and Viper families!
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The Howl family, a close-knit and unique family in a way. Whether it's because of their personalities that always seem to clash but at the same time get along so easily.... Or because the children always seem to get into some adventure that may or may not be dangerous. Even Jack has a history of always getting into trouble as a child, something that he tries to prevent from happening to his younger siblings (and ends up failing a few times). Jack's family is extremely welcoming to travelers who visit Shaftland!... Or rather, Jack's mother is the most welcoming and charismatic of the small family nucleus, always appearing to be in a good mood, and is a peacemaker whenever things start to get out of hand. Jack's father is extremely suspicious of anyone outside the family, a typical lone wolf personality (something that Jack ended up inheriting), but he also ends up being the one who spoils his children the most... Okay, so Jack is no longer a little kid, but that won't stop him! He is also the one who ends up dealing most easily with his children's crises, especially Jack's younger brother, who now seems to be in a rebellious phase, and his younger sister who wants to be closer to her siblings... Sometimes it is complicated, but it is good that he has a loving wife who is by his side to help him.
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Ah yes, the Zigvolt family… Now that's a family that always seems to be involved in something unbelievable. We don't even need to comment on the scandal that occurred when Sebek's mother decided to marry a human, nothing that would really change the young Zigvolt's mind, or even the shock when Baul's wife was the first to bless the couple's union! No one expected a fae like her to be the first to defend the couple, but those close to her already suspected that she had an affection for humans. After all, she also demanded that Lilia share the stories of his travels, whether in person or by letter (how she found out where he was is a mystery to this day)… Also, she was the one who helped Baul be less… extreme, against them, in a way. The wedding was a big event that caught the attention of many people in the kingdom, much to Baul's dismay, who wanted it to be something more private, just between family and a few close friends… But he couldn't hold back the tears when he saw his daughter's happiness. Sebek and his siblings ended up spending a lot of time with their grandparents, and with that, the olderbrother and sister ended up inheriting a bit of their grandmother's playful and bold personality. And whenever they can, they end up teasing the youngest in different ways, saying that he is too serious for his age, or that he has to quickly get out of this rebellious phase against his own father (nothing extremely serious, they just do this so that their brother can enjoy this new phase of his life).
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The Vipers have a complicated history... Mrs. Viper was born and raised within the walls of the Asim mansion, so a lot of the things she was taught ended up, in one way or another, affecting her relationship with her children. She loves them more than anything in the world but... Some teachings are too hard to forget. Mr. Viper has worked at the Asim mansion since childhood, and ended up getting close to and falling in love with the young Viper and, despite all her warnings, he decided to get married and carry the burden of the Viper name alongside his beloved. Promising himself that he would do everything to bring some happiness to his children and his wife. The dance was something that Mrs. Viper insisted on becoming a family tradition, whether on special occasions like birthdays or as a way to help everyone understand and express themselves. Mr. Viper created a small tradition of doing everyone's hair almost every day, were to teach his children how to do more elaborate hairstyles,to talk about everything or nothing to relax or whether to comfort them after a hard day… Even in difficult times, the Viper family is very loyal to themselves, always looking out for each other's safety even if it costs them their own, whether in a direct or indirect way.
AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can! 🙃
I took a long time with the designs again and I got carried away with the drawings…😅 And... Can you tell I'm not good at creating clothes? Anyway! I hope you enjoy them, and feel free to share your headcanons! <3
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hairmetal666 · 8 months ago
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Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.
And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.
They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--
Steve Harrington is his bed.
They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--
They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.
They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.
Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.
Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.
Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.
They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.
After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.
He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--
"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.
"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.
Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.
Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or
It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--
Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.
Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.
He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."
Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."
They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.
There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.
"Stop," he whispers to Steve.
Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.
"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."
"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"
"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."
"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."
"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."
"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.
"Then we'll deal with it together."
"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."
--
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.
A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.
Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.
They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.
"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.
"Hey yourself."
"It's Bi Visibility day."
"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going
"I want to come out."
He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"
Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.
"How do you want to do it?"
He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.
They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.
Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.
The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.
Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.
He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"
"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.
"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"
Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."
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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 9 months ago
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It's a Match! || 141 x reader
[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]
Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?
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Chapter 3: Simon
After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.
You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone… 
Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.
And so you did. 
Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right. 
Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.
You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched. 
You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.
The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…
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“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.
“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.
Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.
you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft?
Simon: No.
Simon: Means that I have inches to spare.
you: was that a dick joke?
Simon: No.
Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.
You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…
you: ambiguous, i like it.
you: so how tall are you then?
Simon: Does it matter?
you: no. just curious.
Simon: 6ft4.
you: that feels like a lie.
Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason.
you: worried people would call you a liar?
Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless.
you: that’s fair ig.
you: what’s a traveling consultant?
Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world.
you: what kind of businesses?
Simon: That’s need-to-know.
you: you type so formally and professionally jeez.
you: will i ever get to know?
Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot.
Simon: Not if I can help it.
you: somehow i can tell.
you: what are you doing here then?
Simon: Curiosity mostly.
you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀
Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.
you: i see.
you: got anything yet?
Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago.
you: am i your first then?
Simon: Not my first in anything, love.
Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.
you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before?
Simon: Something of the sorts.
you: aw, im really not going to be your first.
Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way.
Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.
Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.
you: idk what if you murder me?
Simon: I promise I won’t.
you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨
Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home.
you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is.
Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.
Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.
you: reassuring. thanks.
Simon: Glad to be of service.
you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face.
Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered?
you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon
Simon: LOL.
Simon: No.
you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone.
Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment.
Simon: You’re funny. 
Simon: I like that.
you: thanks. 
Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me.
you: probably a mix of both.
Simon: How about we confirm that then? 
Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.
Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.
you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay?
Simon: No sweat.
Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.
You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.
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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe
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peachesofteal · 10 months ago
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Simple Math / Part 8
Simple Math masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.
The girl in the mirror hates you.
It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.
You make her sick.
Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.
Until she thought she wanted to die. 
Someone knocks on the bathroom door.
“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.
You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?
“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.
He’s too strong. Too determined. 
You’re an ant. He’s a shoe. 
You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.
You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife. 
You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you. 
You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself. 
“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes. 
“What’s that?” 
“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor. 
There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision. 
“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.” 
You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.
Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.
And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.
You chew your lip.
It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.
Except for your orbital and cheek bones. 
These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.
It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.
For being so impulsive.
So sloppy.
But then again, wasn’t that your fault? 
You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out. 
You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do. 
Fall. 
And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end. 
“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble. 
When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts. 
“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”
“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose. 
“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves. 
“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be. 
Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy. 
This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip. 
This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure. 
For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart. 
You float there. In those feelings, those memories. 
You wish they were here. You wish they could help you. 
The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine. 
You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self. 
Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat. 
“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”
You can do this.
It’s not anything you haven’t done before.
Deep breath. You can do this. 
Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.
You can do this. 
Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far. 
You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.
Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.
What are you going to do? 
The receptionist is calling your name. 
You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief. 
“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?” 
“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else. 
“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.
“For what?” 
“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces. 
On top of everything. Now this. 
The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response. 
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“ 
“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying. 
She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.
You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.
Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.
You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour. 
But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.
You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time. 
You’re dead. 
“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.
“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.
“What happened to you?”
“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”
“Oh my god!”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.
“Yeah, she totally would.”
Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.
The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.
>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday? 
>Bunny :)
There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.
You ignore them.
You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.
You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.
You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth. 
You ignore it at all.
Get it together. You have a job to do. 
Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.
And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.
Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.  
The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care? 
Still-
You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-
“Hey, there you are.”
Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.
Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.
You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see. 
Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.
It’s selfish, and cruel.
It’s unfair.
He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.
There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.
You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess. 
To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.
He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,
“Who did this to you?”
The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.
Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.
Johnny is distraught.
Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.
“What in the-“
“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“
“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“
“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”
The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.
You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip. 
You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much. 
“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.
Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.
“I’m okay.”
“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.
“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony? 
No. 
“N-no.” You gasp.
“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."
I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“
“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross. 
“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”
“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“
“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.
What’re you doing?  
“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.
“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.
“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”
“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?
“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull. 
“Why don’t you stay with us?”
“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“
“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”
“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.
“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.
“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”
“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.
But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.
“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.
“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”
You would be putting them in danger. 
“I… I can’t.”
“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”
“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.
You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.
“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.
“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”
If you do this. You have to tell them.
You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they? 
You hardly know them. 
But isn’t that better? 
“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.
“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.
You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something. 
You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame. 
Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.
Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.
“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.
“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.
“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“
“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.
The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.
You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.
But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?
You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.
Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place. 
“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.
“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-
You take the plunge.
A moment in the sun. 
“I’m sure.”
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themeraldee · 3 months ago
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I think a great awkward sex fic could be homelander making love for the first time.
Not losing his virginity, but having sex with someone he loves
anon you're sooooooo smart!!!! I love this idea so much. After being in such a funk this reignited me and I had to write it now!! It took a different turn at the end but I don't dictate what the characters do!! thank you for this idea and please enjoy 🩷
Imperfectly Perfect
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[Masterlist] [AO3]
18+ Only | 2.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Awkward sex. Realistic sex. Embarrassing sex noises. Feelings of inadequacy. Homelander being a mild drama queen. Cunnilingus. Unprotected sex.
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Looking back at it, it was meant to be perfect.
Homelander eagerly ushered you back to his penthouse after an incredible date out. He pulled out all the stops, renting out the top rated, most expensive restaurant just for you. He spent the entire night charming your pants off with his strangely charismatic and at times awkward self. 
Buzzing with anticipation he couldn’t wait to show you what else he had in store for you. You’ve changed his perception of everything. Ever since you’ve wormed your way into his heart, he’s locked the way out and threw away the key. You’ve made him feel like nobody else ever has and he thought it high time he repay the favor. That’s why tonight had to be perfect. 
He wanted to show you what awaits you in your shared future.
He had some poor Vought employees absolutely drown his penthouse with bouquets of rich red roses, rose petals strewn across most surfaces, candles illuminating every corner, highlighting the glittering gold of the picture frames adorning his walls. Smooth jazz played in the background at a low volume sealing the deal on what ended up feeling like a scene plucked from an elaborate Valentine’s day ad.
“Wow! This is—wow! Homelander, you didn’t have to do all this.” You looked around the space, taking in the change with a shock and awe on your face. This quickly turned into a beautiful bright smile that made Homelander feel like he was on top of the world. He’s obviously doing something right.
“Anything for my girl.” He pulled you in gently, making the dress he’s picked for you twirl prettily. “Come with me,” he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, letting them linger for a little while while he inhaled the scent of your perfume—also his choice—and the roses surrounding you both. At that moment he thought that tonight would be perfect, one for the books.
And now? It didn’t take long for it to already be turning into a disaster.
From his point of view at least.
You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms as you watch the show. You asked to watch him take off his suit, promising that you’d give him just as good of a show as he would. 
Prior to this he has taken his elaborate suit off thousands of times anytime he’d go to bed. Now he’s struggling as if both of his hands were left-handed and this was his first suit fitting. He’s so tense, his nerves tighter than a bow string making his hands shake while he unclasps the cape, immediately folding it on the rack out of habit before he continues unzipping his suit. His heart is beating like a drum in his ears, he wouldn’t be surprised if even your ordinary ones could pick up on it. 
It’s not that he’s never had sex. It’s just that the anticipation of what he’s built up in his head is making him overthink his every move. He needs you to know that he can be like this for you. Because the perfect mainstream image of romance is what every woman dreams of—right?
When the zipper gets stuck and doesn’t let him unzip like normal he panics internally. There were meant to be no hiccups today! 
Observant that you are, you stand up as soon as you see him struggle and swear and take the step closer to him. “Let me help you.” You put your hands on his before sliding them up his forearms, then shoulders before going down to rest on his chest.
“How about you let me undress you and then you undress me.” You give him a cheeky smile, trying to break the tension he put himself into. “Does that sound good?” You ask quietly and breathy as you undo the zipper he was struggling with. 
He nods curtly, feeling ashamed that he’s admitting to a fault on his part.
But with the continuous dreamy eye-contact you slowly help him out. Undoing clasps, and zippers of his convoluted uniform. 
He was less worried about you seeing him naked than he is about the whole performance of it all. He’s let you see him without the suit before. Early into your blooming relationship you’ve stumbled upon him covered in blood. It only made sense to take the shower together as you helped him wash all of it off. But even then, he didn’t want it to go further. He said he had plans and asked you to let him make it perfect. 
When he’s finally fully naked he pulls you in for a hot kiss. It’s almost in gratitude at helping him mend the situation and put it back on track. He walks you back to the bed pushing you on it. He’s only about half hard, which is unusual for him as Homelander easily gets a hard-on in a split second anytime you just look at him a certain way. So it’s a surprise that he’s not panting and leaking with the way you look tonight. 
Clearly, he’s still stuck in his head.
With each kiss he presses into your skin, tasting the softness of your every spot he gets more and more excited. Slowly melting into you with each little huff you let out as he kisses your body, undressing you in tandem. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growls into your ear before kissing you flush on the lips. Hot and heavy, he licks into your mouth, moaning at the way you pull at his hair when you rake your fingers through it.
Just as you want to take some control back, treat him the same way he’s treating you, he stops you.
“Nuh, uh. Ladies first. Let me make you feel good.” He rumbles as he pushes your hands off his body. You look pleased at his words, giving him an excited little grin.
And just like that, he’s finally taking control of the situation again. He’s got a script in his head and he needs to follow it to a tee.
Down on his knees, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. Already spreading your legs open, unabashedly inhaling the scent of you, already aroused and wet for him. He grins like a shark to himself. Without giving you much heads-up or taking it slow he just straight up buries himself in between your legs.
Just the smell of you had his cock finally turning rock hard, now with the taste of you he feels it twitching, drooling precum from the tip.
He’s licking you open, spreading you with his tongue. Like a mad man who doesn’t know where to focus first, with little rhythm he changes between strongly sucking at your clit, pointing his tongue sharply and running circles around your clit right before shoving his tongue into you, tongue-fucking you just like he imagines will leave your mind blown.
Except. 
“Little softer, please.” You sound out in between sweet little sighs. You’ve taken to running your nails through his hair, giving his scalp a little massage while he went to town on you.
“M���sorry.” He mumbles into your pussy as he quickly looks up at you. He slows down with his urgency though he’s a little peeved at the way he’s not been able to rock your world yet. 
“Don’t be—ah—it’s great. I just like it a little softer.” 
It’s great? Great?! It should be mind-blowing, incredible, glorious! Not just great. Immediately his ego takes a hit but he doesn’t outwardly show it. In his mind you should’ve been moaning and shaking for him, coming on his tongue while he got his fill of you. 
This doesn’t happen.
And while he’s doing better, making you moan a little louder, forcing small gasps out of you as he softens his tongue flat, gently laving over your clit before sucking on it softly. He’s not making you cum and that’s killing him.
You suddenly sharply tug on his hair and at first he thinks you’re getting close but you pull again and he looks up at you confused.
“Come up here.” You guide him up.
“But you didn’t finish.” He scrunches his eyebrows confused and for a second he looks like an innocent sweet puppy. 
“I don’t wanna come yet. I’m actually usually done after one orgasm so I reaaally want to have you inside me for the big finish you know?” You sign that off with a wolfish grin that he immediately eats up as he climbs up to devour you, making you taste yourself on his lips. 
With the thoughts of being inside you where it’s all soft and warm and really just made for his cock, he abandons his thoughts of inadequacy. 
And as much as you want to participate, Homelander keeps pushing you off, instead focusing on your body and all the places he hasn’t managed to kiss yet. 
When he swats your hand away from his cock again you ask. “Why won’t you let me return the favor?” 
“Another time.”
“But I wanna blow you! It’s not fair, why can’t I?” You keep pouting and you’re as adorable as you are annoying because as much as he’s sure your mouth will feel amazing he’s even more certain that your pussy will be fucking incredible. And he definitely won’t make it through both.
“Because I’ll bust, alright?” He swats your hands away instead pinning your wrists down onto the plush bedding making you yelp in surprise and arousal. He can sense the way that got you all excited. “Now just let me fuck you… please?” He says before kissing you again.
You automatically spread your legs. He kneels on the bed, sitting on his heels as his eyes immediately lock onto the sight of your pussy, still pretty and wet for him. A sight that makes his heart swell. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t want him with such voracity. He made sure to keep some lube on hand in case you wouldn’t get wet enough for it to be comfortable for you but he was preening that he managed to get you this wet. 
Homelander let one of his fingers glide down your slit, gathering the slick before pushing a finger in, immediately groaning at the intense heat of your cunt. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in you.
He gathers more slick that you seem to be making an abundance of but this time he gives his cock a few strokes, giving it a nice, wet coating. “So perfect for me.” He whispers out more to himself than you before he shuffles closer, holding his cock in his hand, rubbing it up and down your slit before eagerly pushing in.
The sheer tight heat of you has him gasping, you’d almost think he was in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed out look on his face.
When he sinks all the way in, he takes in your pretty face, your softly parted lips, gently flushed face and a look in your eyes that he’s sure he’ll never forget. You look at him with such love and adoration it’s impossible for him to stop the, “I love you,” that comes out of him before he kisses you.
“I love you too.” You say with a bright smile when he lets you breathe.
 He thinks at this moment, there’s no way this could be anything less than perfect.
Getting lost in the sensation he picks up the pace. He fucks into your faster and harder with each stroke and it’s not bad but it’s too too much from the get go. Homelander doesn’t see this. In his head he wants to make you cum before he himself finishes which with his track record might not be a very long time.
“Hey hey hey, slow down. You don’t need to go all hard and fast so quickly okay?” You say with a breathless little laugh, looking a bit rattled from the way he’s been fucking you into the mattress.
Fuck. He fucked up again. He’s disappointing you. That thought makes his heart hurt and jaw clench. But Homelander doesn’t let it show as he just nods at you, kissing his tension away, trying to get his head back into enjoying himself as much as he should.
But the universe isn’t kind to him and when he eases himself back into you, pressing his body against your sweat-covered one, the glide of skin on skin well… It makes a sound that could only be described as a fart!
You burst into giggles at the comical sound and you seem to think that’s it but Homelander is mortified. His eyes widen and he gasps, pushing himself off your sweat-slick skin. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—”
When he tries to explain that it wasn’t him it just makes you laugh harder.
He doesn’t get it—you’re laughing! It’s so incredibly embarrassing and it’s ruining the vision he had for the night. Tonight was about him finally opening up to you, letting you feel just how strongly he feels about you and it’s been a disaster from the start.
He feels himself softening inside you so he pulls out before you notice and he grumpily pulls away from you, turning to sit at the edge of the bed to sulk.
Your giggles died out as soon as you noticed him pull away. “Baby? Don’t be upset. I’m not laughing at you.” You sit up, reaching over to him, moving closer. 
“It’s fucking embarrassing! Tonight was meant to be—well not like this!” He’s upset and he’s trying to take it out on you as if pretending that it’s your fault is gonna soothe his hurt ego.
“It’s okay. It’s normal, it happens. It’s literally just skin on skin. Bodies make funny sounds!” You try to soothe him by rubbing his arms and shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to his head or side of his neck.
“You shouldn’t be laughing at it like this whole thing doesn’t matter.” He said with a bite in his tone, almost accusing you of not sharing his feelings.
“I’m laughing because this does matter to me. I’m comfortable around you. You make me feel at ease and let my guard down. I’m laughing precisely because I love you.”
He doesn’t respond and you continue soothing his hurt feelings.
“It’s beautiful, the way you’ve prepared this place. But do you wanna hear a secret?” You move closer to him and turn his head with your finger. “It’d be just as romantic without all of it. Even if the first time we had sex was in a broom closet. Or whatever. The point is—it’s you. That makes it all so special.”
He sighs with palpable relief and he nuzzles his head into the hand you placed on his cheek. He could just about devour you for being so amazing. 
“I just wanted it to be perfect for you.” He admits his insecurity, giving you the ammunition to rip his heart in two if you wanted to. He knows you hear the ‘I want to be perfect for you,’ he’s really trying to convey. 
“It is perfect. Tonight, the whole thing. Everything that’s happened. It’s been perfect. I’ve been loving every second of it.” You kiss him on the lips and he melts. He turns so he can embrace you with the kiss, feeling the tension finally slip away. With no expectations, he can enjoy you the way he should have from the start.
“Come on, lie down. Stop thinking.” It’s your turn to press him into the mattress as he lies on his back staring up at you with pure adoration.
Just like that, after seeing you on top of him all pretty and loving his cock is back at full hardness. You finally wrap your hand around it, giving it a few strokes before you lower yourself down on him.
“We’re getting to know our bodies. You learn what I like, I learn what you like. None of this thinking of what it should be like. Okay?” He nods at you although he’s very preoccupied with taking in the incredible feeling of you wrapped hotly around him, sending his mind into a frenzy.
You bounce on him, showing him exactly how you like it, what angle and what pace and in the meanwhile you coo sweet, soothing words. Clearly seeing just how much work his hurt ego will need to get back to normal. 
And somehow, in the end, it’s so much more perfect than he could ever imagine it to be.
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Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten 
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hiraethwrote · 2 months ago
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cw gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, breakup, pining, minor clubbing wc: <1k an i'm on my period which is making me a little emotional, which resulted in this
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ex!suguru will never truly be over you, convinced you’re the one that got away.
the breakup was “mutual”, emphasis on the quotation marks — it only meant you guys ended on good terms. it was a very quiet and tender scene. he holds your hands in his, slowly his thumb strokes across your knuckles, never letting his eyes leave your tear stained face.
ex!suguru who, despite disagreeing wholeheartedly with the decision, sees it’s for the best. he will forever hate himself for being unable to see it coming, unable to stop it — one day he suddenly notices how staying in the relationship brought you more turmoil than joy, and he didn't have the heart to hold onto you even though he so desperately wanted to. but he would ruin himself million times over for you
“it’ll be okay,” he says softly, letting himself indulge in the small acts that come so naturally to him one last time before he has to let go, hand reaching up to dry your tears and cupping your cheek. “i’ll be okay.”
with the quiet promise, he feels the stress leave your body and you rest against his touch, a sad smile painting your lips — you’re so beautiful, he thinks.
ex!suguru who lies because he knows it's what you need to hear. you had already stayed longer than you wanted because you didn’t want to hurt him. he wasn’t surprised. you were just so considerate, through and through. he had always thought the relationship was too good to be true anyways, never truly feeling worthy of you
ex!suguru who doesn’t cry, but that is because he feels numb. he can’t remember feeling a pain as intense as this one.
when your tears have stopped, only shy sniffles escaping you, he comes with one last confession. “i’m always going to love you.” he waits, hoping you would say it in return. it isn’t because you don’t love him anymore that you can’t keep going, it’s just because it isn’t working.
“i know,” you say quietly and his heart shatters.
ex!suguru who has his friends fooled because they think he is over the relationship already. he acts the same, eats the same and goes about his business the same — but that’s because it doesn’t concern anyone other than the two of you.
first weekend as a single man, gojo forces him to go out clubbing with him. he really doesn’t want to, but he can’t give his friend any excuses he will accept.
he hates every moment of it, rudely shutting down anyone that approaches him. no matter how attractive, no matter how charismatic, no matter how willing — they’re not you so what’s the point?
ex!suguru who hates the universe a little more than usual. despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to escape you entirely. and he swears he tries, but you somehow just appear every now and then.
he spots you in the grocery store, doing your daily shopping. he spots you in the line of the coffeehouse, ordering your usual drink (one he knows by heart). he sees you on every feed, posting pictures and updates of your life — you seem happy.
his heart screams for him to surrender to his desires, to approach you and hear your voice again. but he knows better, so after torturing himself by admiring you for a few seconds, he simply turns on his heel and leaves.
ex!suguru who after years still thinks about you as much as the day you left. he has tried to move on, but it feels like a betrayal, even after all this time.
has he healed? sure, a little. life goes on after all. with time he has been reunited with some sense of happiness. however it could never compare to the period of his life where he was so fortunate to be with you.
ex!suguru runs into you after nine years. and not like all the times he has simply noticed you down the street — no, you fully crash into his chest one day while walking out of a bakery.
to say he is surprised is an understatement. he has memorised all the places you used to visit so this exact scenario wouldn’t happen, and this had never been a chain you had set foot in before. but a lot changes in nine years.
“suguru, hi.” your voice is light, a rhythm in it that was not present at the end of your relationship. “wow, crazy running into you. how have you been?”
“good,” he croaks, eyes glued to your face. he still finds you as ethereal as the day you left. he wants to say more, but he is a little unsettled by how at peace you seem to be despite not being with him. “and you?”
it doesn’t go unnoticed how you present yourself as genuinely content with where you are in life. however, suguru goes through the entire heartbreak all over again — he has missed so much of your life. he used to think he would be along side you for every single moment of it. instead he is stood in front of you and feeling as if the walls are closing in on him.
his breath catches when you stretch out your hand to grab his forearm. “it was really great seeing you again,” you muse. it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he believes he hears a sadness in your voice that comes from missing him.
“you too,” he whispers, and you’re gone again.
ex!suguru who eventually comes to terms with just being alone again. before you, he always imagined this was how it would end, not the person made to share his life with someone.
you had obviously made him believe otherwise. with you by his side, waking up next to someone and sharing your meals didn’t seem so silly anymore.
but it turns out he only wanted those things if it was with you.
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tags @sad-darksoul ノ @madaqueue ノ @toadtoru ノ @hiraethwa ノ @harperluvgojo
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©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited
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doumadono · 1 year ago
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Upper Moons & Muzan in heat - headcanons
Warnings: fem!reader, some extra short smut, suggestive content Synopsis: If Muzan and the Upper Moons were in heat, how would they behave? Requested by: @within-eyesight ♥
MASTERLIST
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Muzan
When Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, enters his heat, his desires become insatiable. Known for his pride and desire for control, Muzan prefers to initiate spicy time by seducing his chosen partner, whether it's a demon or a human. He uses his supernatural charm and allure to captivate them completely. Muzan's approach is subtle yet forceful, employing a mix of his demon powers and charismatic personality to bring his partner under his spell. Once he has them fully enraptured, Muzan revels in dominating them completely, pushing their limits and indulging in their darkest fantasies.
​Kibutsuji, his eyes glowing crimson, leans in close to you, a human whose heart races in both fear and anticipation. He runs a slender finger along their trembling jawline, relishing the way your breath hitches in response. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea how desperately I crave you. Your every breath, your every moan will be mine to savor. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise to show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams." His voice drips with a potent mixture of desire and command, sending shivers down your spine. Muzan's predatory gaze never wavers as he slowly traces a trail of delicate kisses along your neck, his lips brushing against your skin like velvet.
You remain unaware of the exact moment when and how Muzan overpowers you, pinning you forcefully to the wooden floor of his chamber. His immense weight presses down upon you relentlessly as he thrusts his cock back and forth, filling the room with the sounds of his deep grunts and your subdued whimpers. Desperately, you clutch onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life.
Douma
Douma, the Upper Moon Two, has a reputation for his sadistic and playful nature. When he experiences his heat, he becomes even more mischievous and unpredictable. Douma initiates spicy time by luring his desired partner into a twisted game of cat and mouse. He enjoys toying with their emotions, tantalizing them with hints of pleasure while also teasing and tormenting them. Douma's approach is characterized by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, alternating between intense moments of passion and sudden withdrawal. He thrives on the thrill of the chase and the element of surprise, making the experience an exhilarating rollercoaster ride for both himself and his partner.
​Douma smirks devilishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he toys with you, a mere human being who struggles to resist his charm. He teases you with a sultry laugh, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Oh, my sweet little plaything, you can try to run, but we both know you'll come crawling back for more. The game has just begun, and I can't wait to see how long you can withstand my insatiable appetite." His voice carries a seductive lilt as he closes the distance between you, his fingers dancing along your exposed skin of your shoulders with featherlight touches. Douma revels in the power he holds over you, your reactions fueling his insatiable desire for control.
With both legs positioned against his wide shoulders and your head tilted back, you express audible pleasure by moaning and screaming his name with every forceful motion Douma delivers, intensifying as he penetrates you deeper due to the angle, his sturdy grip caressing your breasts as he pounds into you with full force.
Akaza
Akaza, also known as Upper Moon Three, is a relentless and fierce warrior. During his heat, his primal instincts take over, intensifying his already formidable strength. Akaza initiates spicy time by engaging in combat-like foreplay, combining his martial arts prowess with his desire for dominance. He enjoys testing his partner's resilience and stamina, pushing them to their limits physically and emotionally. Akaza revels in the raw power and passion of the experience, seeking to establish his dominance over his partner. However, beneath his aggressive exterior, Akaza also craves a genuine connection, albeit in a somewhat twisted and possessive manner.
​Akaza, his eyes burning with a primal fire, circles you, a brave human who stands your ground despite your trembling, trying to fight him. His voice carries a hint of aggression, mingled with desire. "You dare to challenge me? Your strength is admirable, but it's your resolve that entices me. Let's see how long you can endure my touch, how long you can withstand the overwhelming heat that consumes us both." His deep voice resonates with a mixture of dominance and longing as he closes the distance between you, his powerful aura enveloping you. Akaza's touch is both demanding and tender, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he explores your body with possessive determination.
Soon, you're riding him, feeling the touch of his calloused hands on the curves of your waist, urging you to quicken your pace with each movement of your hips. Akaza's head tilts backward as he endeavors to enhance the pleasure, meeting your rhythm by thrusting his own hips into you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with each push.
Kokushibo
Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, embodies elegance and refinement. During his heat, his typically composed demeanor becomes more intense and passionate. Kokushibo initiates spicy time by creating an atmosphere of elegance and sensuality. He engages in elaborate rituals and ceremonies, drawing inspiration from traditional Japanese aesthetics. Kokushibo's approach is marked by grace and precision, focusing on the art of pleasure and the exploration of his partner's senses. He values the harmony of body and soul, seeking to transcend the physical realm through a deep connection with his chosen partner. Kokushibo's desires are a delicate balance of refinement and primal urges.
​Kokushibo, his dark hair cascading around him like a waterfall, gazes into the eyes of yours, a human filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness after meeting Upper Rank One for the very first time. He speaks softly, his voice resonating with elegance. "Ah, my dearest child, let us transcend the boundaries of pleasure. Through artful touch and sacred connection, we shall discover depths of ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Allow me to guide you on this exquisite journey of the senses. Trust me." His words hold a poetic quality, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and desires. Kokushibo's movements are graceful as he traces intricate patterns along your skin, every touch deliberate and filled with reverence. He revels in the symphony of your desires, seeking to create an experience that blends the physical and spiritual realms.
You find yourself on all fours, feeling the weight of Kokushibo's strong hand pressing your head firmly against the mattress as he thrusts into you with an intense, primal rhythm, his grip tight on your hip as your plump ass jigles with each of his thrusts. You can't help but anticipate the bruises that will surely adorn your hips tomorrow.
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spitdrunken · 3 months ago
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man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.
notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control
it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.
i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.
you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.
in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.
you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.
(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)
oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.
he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!
he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!
…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.
you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.
he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.
a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.
on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.
he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.
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multifandomimagin3s · 2 years ago
Text
Realising they accidentally hurt you while making out - 141 + König
Requested by Anon
some angst, fluff, mentions of sexual themes but nothing explicit.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Gentle isn't really in his vocabulary - he's six feet of pure muscle and strength and while he tries to make a conscious effort to reign himself in, he can sometimes get a bit carried away in the moment.
For him to be physically intimate with you on any level, you'd have to be close to him; in this scenario, you'd have worked your way into his heart.
Doesn't like being vulnerable, point-blank.
But once he realises that he'd hurt you, someone he cares so deeply for, he feels guilty. Beyond guilty.
Notices the bruising on your wrists from his solid grip, when he'd been holding them above your head during a passionate kiss, and feels his stomach drop.
Even as you insist to him that you're okay, he'd be distant.
With all of his past experiences - with his Father, his Mother, and his childhood as a whole - he internally and solemnly swore that he would never lay a finger on you or hurt you, in any way.
And now? He feels like he's done just that.
Would probably take him a while to get out of that headspace - you knew that trying to push him wouldn't help but still checked up on him; which in turn made him feel more guilty, you were so kind to him and deep down he felt like he didn't deserve such kindness.
You would be cooking a meal for the both of you, when he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind, wordlessly pressing his head into the crook of your neck.
"'m sorry." He was apologising not just for the bruises, but for everything - he had been hiding himself away, and the lack of intimacy was borderline painful for the both of you.
You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you to him in a hug. He stiffened, before his arms tightened around you slightly, as if he was making sure that you were still here with him.
You were, and you silently promised that you weren't going anywhere.
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish
Johnny is your typical 'class clown' - he's charismatic in such a way that you can't help but laugh along with him, and his energy just makes him fun to be around.
The only time he really gets serious is when he's working but even then he's always one to crack jokes with the Team - namely, with Ghost (who 9/10 pretends to be annoyed at the Sergeant, rather than admitting he enjoys his company).
He always misses you so much when he's deployed - to be honest even if you were also in the military, if you both got sent on different missions or were even apart for a day, he'd still feel like he hadn't seen you in forever.
So when he does see you again, he's very passionate in showing you just how much he missed you.
It wasn't until you winced from how hard he was gripping onto your hip during a make-out session that he pulled away, panicked eyes searching your form for the source of the pain.
His eyes fell onto the slightly discoloured blotches on your hip, and he instantly frowned, scooping you into a hug.
"Aw I'm so sorry, Darlin', I didnae realise I was hurtin' ye."
The make-out session was completely abandoned, as he rubbed your hip gently, kissing your forehead.
Makes mental notes to keep his strength reigned in in future, and feels absolutely awful when he sees the finger-shaped bruises forming on your skin :(
Definitely would turn up with a bouquet of flowers for you, orders your favourite food and dotes on you for days after it - no matter how much you may protest, he's going to treat you the best he can.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Another guy who's very passionate when he's been away from you for a long period of time.
He misses you more than you'll ever know - he even carries a little photo of you in the pocket of his tactical vest.
Can get a bit excitable when making out, picking you up under your thighs, pushing you against the wall - a little bit too forcefully.
He notices your breath hitching and it takes him a second to realise that it wasn't sexual, but he had in fact accidentally knocked the back of your head against the wall with the momentum.
Immediately places you down on the bed, apologies continuously flowing out of his mouth as he pulls you to his chest, cradling your head.
It didn't hurt that much, more of a dull ache, but in his eyes he might as well have fractured your skull.
Like Soap, he dotes on you for ages after it, promising that in future he'll be more careful with his strength.
Captain John Price
He's been in the military for a long time so he likes to think that he has a good awareness of his strength, and is always mindful around you.
He doesn't treat you like you're fragile, but he's never rough with you - unless you ask, that is.
I reckon that he's incredibly good at reading people, so if he noticed even a slight hint of discomfort or pain on your features during a make-out session, he'd immediately stop and ask if you were alright.
If you voiced your discomfort or pain, he'd feel guilty for hurting you in the first place, hands delicately massaging any sore spots.
He treats you like royalty anyways, but after this? He'd practically on bended knee, would do anything you asked.
Wouldn't ask to continue with your make-out session, waiting for you to be comfortable first; he'd never want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable with him.
All in all, he's very mature about it, apologising profusely - your happiness and safety is paramount to him.
König
König is always hyper aware of his sheer size and strength - he knows he's big and strong, it's what makes him so good at his job in the first place.
It's also why he's always so cautious around you, he practically treats you like you're made of glass.
Even if you're in the military or part of KorTac, he's still going to be hesitant to spar with you for fear of hurting you in the process.
If he hurt you while making out, he'd honestly want to curl up in a ball and cry.
Doesn't matter if it's a tiny bruise or a scrape, he's going to completely shut down; it'd be like how he was when you initially met him, the closed-off mercenary who doesn't speak to anyone and keeps to himself.
He tries to make it clear that he's not angry at you - quite the opposite, he's livid with himself for not being able to control his own strength.
Like Ghost, it would take him a while to come around - but you would have to make the first move.
He would be sitting on your shared bed, head in his hands as he licks his wounds, inwardly cursing himself; his sniper hood would be back on, as if he was trying to hide himself away from the world.
Coming to stand between his legs, you'd gently place your hand over his, encouraging him to lift his head up to look at you.
"It's okay, I'm alright."
He said nothing, hands coming to rest on your hips, as he pressed his forehead to your stomach. You encircled your arms around his broad shoulders and his tentatively wrapped around your waist.
He'd eventually come around but it would take a lot of convincing to get him out of the mindset that he was going to end up hurting you again.
Poor guy just loves you so much :(
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