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carlthecloaked · 3 months ago

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Wrong Number, Right Person

tried writing something after a while :3| 1.3k words | no cw |

|chapter 2|

Steve was pissed.

This date was not working out. At all.

He thought he was going out with this sweet guy from California. At least, that’s what his Tinder profile had made it seem like. But clearly, he had been very wrong.

Where would he even start?

First of all, the guy wouldn’t shut up about his ex.

Like, she sounded great and all, but maybe don’t talk about her the entire time we’re on a date?

Secondly, he wasn’t even listening to what Steve was saying. Half the time, he was scrolling through Instagram, looking at his ex's profile. Laughing at whatever post he was looking at, or he was texting someone else.

Third—and perhaps the worst part—the guy had the personality of a wet sock. Zero energy. No conversation skills. Just dull. Clearly not the charming, funny guy he’d seemed to be over text.

Steve sighed internally. Guess that was his fault for believing his Tinder profile was real.

And then, as if the date wasn’t already bad enough—

“So, are we going to your place or mine? "

Steve barely stopped himself from gaping. He forced a polite smile instead, setting down his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is working out,” he said smoothly, placing his half of the bill on the table. “I have to go.”

The guy blinked, as if he hadn’t just bombed the entire date.

“But wait—”

Steve walked fast out of the cafe, he had to get out of there quickly.

“Ugh, that was the worst. I have to go tell Robin.”

While walking to the subway, he winced as he opened his backup phone. It wasn't as good as his currently broken phone. He totally didn't drop it in the toilet. Nope, that never happened.

He sighed, scrolling through his messages. He still hadn’t updated his contacts, so every number looked unfamiliar. Normally, he’d recognize Robin’s name instantly, but now? It was just random numbers.

He just figured he would text the most recent number, It'll probably be fine.

Steve: WORST date ever. like worst ever. robs i swear to god i wish i could turn back time and never swiped right on him at all. if you ever see me texting him again, throw a microwave at me

Unknown Number: any personal preference or do i just chuck it at you

Steve: chuck it

Steve: robbie i swear it was SO bad

Unknown Number: oh i didn't realize you'd actually think i was your friend

Unknown Number: uh yeah so this is not robbie

Oh. Steve blinked at his phone.

Huh.

That was… unexpected. But not bad, necessarily. Just—Huh.

He stared at the message for a second longer before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. This was fine. Totally fine.

Steve: oh god

Steve: i'm so sorry wrong number

Unknown Number: it's fine lol

Unknown Number: but how bad was it though, like on a scale of “awkward as hell” to “can the ground swallow me whole?”

Steve hesitated.

He shouldn’t keep talking. He should just apologize again and move on.

But… what else was he doing today?

Steve: definitely “can the ground swallow me whole?” territory

Unknown Number: okay now i'm definitely invested. spill the tea

Steve: dude. he kept on going on and on about his ex, i swear it went on for 30 minutes. THIRTY. MINUTES.

Unknown Number: 🚩🚩🚩 IMMEDIATE red flag, redder than the color red

Steve: RIGHT??? and when he finally stopped he just kept scrolling on his phone

Steve: he was stalking her insta too 😭

Unknown Number: are you fr???

Steve: i wish i was lying but nope

Steve: then when i tried talking about literally anything else other than his ex he’d just respond with “yeah” or “whatever”

Unknown Number: what does that even mean??????

Steve: i have literally no idea

Steve: he even had the NERVE to ask if we would go to his place or mine

Unknown Number: the AUDACITY. the sheer unhinged delusion. did he think he was charming?????

Steve: LMAO stop i can't💀

Unknown Number: i bet he thought you 'd swoon bat your eyelashes and say “oh my god, yes! let's go to another place where you can pretend i'm not there!”

Steve lips curled at the stranger’s response before replying back

Steve: honestly i wouldn't be surprised if he thought that i should be grateful for his presence

Unknown Number: i can't believe you suffered through that

Unknown Number: no wait, you didn't suffer. you endured and you survived. for that you deserve an award. a dramatic opera performance

Steve: i hate how funny you are

Steve grins at his phone.

Unknown Number: you can repay me by continued conversation ;)

Steve: okay but you have to say who you are though

Steve: please don't tell me this is my professor🙏

Unknown Number: lol no definitely not your professor

Unknown Number: but i kinda want to keep it secret now, adds to my mysterious aura

Steve: no hints? :(

Unknown Number: i have hair

Steve: wow that really narrows it down. i totally know who you are.

Unknown Number: good luck finding it out ;)

Steve tilted his head, amused.

There was a pause.

Steve stared at his phone for a second, drumming his fingers against the back of it. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this felt… different. Not bad, just—unexpected.

He should probably just let it go. It wasn’t like it mattered who this guy was, right?

Still.

Steve: so are you gonna give me a real hint or do i just have to suffer

Unknown Number: hmm. suffer sounds fun

Steve let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. Great. Just his luck to end up texting someone who enjoyed messing with him.

And, okay. Maybe he didn’t mind that much.

The subway car jolted slightly as it began to slow, Steve barely looked up from his phone, used to the way the train moved as it went into the station. The train came to a stop, the doors opening with a mechanical chime, letting in the sound of city noise and passengers.

He stood up getting out and walking to his and Robin’s apartment nearby, glancing at his phone occasionally to check if the stranger texted again.

Steve barely had the door open before Robin’s voice rang out from the couch.

“Finally! What took you so long? Did the date go well?”

Steve groaned, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her.

“You have no idea. I swear to God, worst date ever.”

Robin gasped dramatically, “Worse than the girl who ordered an expensive meal and made you pay?”

“Way worse”

“Way worse than the one who left you at the bar for three hours?”

“Robin.”

“Okay, okay tell me everything.”

Steve launched into the whole story, how the guy wouldn’t stop talking about his ex, stalking his ex’s instagram, the dry-ass responses and the sheer audacity of asking if they were going to his place or their shared apartment.

“That’s tragic Steve, how are you so unlucky at this?”

“I have no idea man, I guess I just attract weird people.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

Steve suddenly sat up, remembering. “Oh, speaking of.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

“So, uh I may or may not have accidentally texted a stranger about it.”

Robin grinned in amusement. “What?”

“I thought it was you!” Steve said defensively. “I haven’t updated my contacts on this phone yet, and I just picked the most recent number in the list.”

Robin stared. “Wait. Hold on. You had a whole conversation with a stranger instead of asking who they were like a normal person?”

Steve shrugged. “They were funny.”

Robin gasped again, dramatically. “Oh my god. You like them.”

“What? No. I dont even know who they are!”

“But you want to”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

Robin grinned, throwing a pillow at him. “You absolute idiot. We’re figuring this out right now.

Steve caught the pillow. “Fine. But if this turns into some embarrassing rom-com nonsense I’m blaming you.”

“Oh it’s already a rom-com, Stevie. You just don’t know it yet.”

Steve sighed, but smiled anyway.

Maybe he did want to know.

#steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #modern au #my fic #next chapter will be eddies pov hehe #college au? technically #its not the focus but they are in college i guess #cloaked's fics

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poguehearted77 · 7 months ago

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Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up.

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

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lewishamiltonstuff · 2 years ago

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Soft spoken asmr is different than whispered asmr, and only one of them is good

Me trying to understand ASMR rn:

Also.. which one ?????

#you can just say only one is good and then not mention who what when where why how #can't*#cmon now #spill the tea #bestie anon??? where are you I'm waiting for the tea with my cup #anon ask #ask #anon #qna #f1 ask #hera #hera core #i am in a funny mood #hehe i am so silly ha ha

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astrolook · 3 months ago

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🔬HOUSE PLACEMENTS IN SIGNS OBSERVATIONS 🔬

Note : These are all my personal observations and patterns I've seen over the years and based on western astrology. Take what resonates and leave the rest. One placement isn't enough to predict and should look at the whole chart to analyze what's in there. Lemme know in the comments whether it hits home or not!

1st house placements in fire signs loves the spotlight or at least love taking selfies and posting it on social media. If in earth signs, looks in the mirror frequently to make sure they look good when crying and takes mirror selfies. If in air signs, their style changes everyday and in some cases, loves to color their hair especially if they have moon in 7th, 9th or 11th houses. If in water signs, has this " cry now, think later" energy or " I'm fine" energy even if they're not.

2nd house placements in fire signs are prone to impulsive buys and spend recklessly. If in earth signs, affordable shopping or hoard things like there's no tmrw. If in water signs, holds onto things and get emotionally attached to stuffs like that's my grandma's watch or this recipe is from my great grandma from world war 2. If in air signs, cheap buys and looks for discounts, thrift stores, spends too much on something and then live on pennies for the next whole month.

3rd house placements if in fire signs, can jump to conclusions or interrupt without realizing it. If in earth signs, waits for their turn to speak which never comes if in retrograde motion, could be too blunt and brutal with their words and insult you wrapped up as a compliment. If in air signs, convos are all over the place and ends Convo abruptly and moves on to next and struggle with articulating words if in retrograde as mind processes 120 words and in 5 topics at once, they end up with speaking 20 words. If in water signs, overshares and take things personally even when others meant in a general way.

4th house placements if in fire signs, stubs their toe constantly or just prone to little/major accidents at home. If in earth signs, black sheep of the family, might seem too distant or emotionally closed off, selective affection. Constipated at times. If in water signs, can't let go of toxic people around them and pretends they're happy even though they're not. If in air signs, selective communication, gossips within family, argues sometimes and reconcile with the other person like nothing happened. Also forget things quickly like where is my key?

5th house placements if in fire signs, defensive and loves riding a bike to watch the sunrise or such. Short-tempered and into games. If in earth signs, stingy when it comes to spend for others they don't wanna spend money on. Classic "I have nothing to wear" energy. Loves desserts and likes to try new restaurants/dishes. If in air signs, smart and would navigate their way out of trouble. Doesn't like relatives showing up. Watches bad movies knowing it's bad like The Room or Neil Breen movies. The kind to spread a rumor for fun. If in water signs, never asks their crush out and daydreams about their crush like having kids and dying of old age together. Bathroom/Kitchen singer like sings while doing household chores. OCD in some cases.

6th house placements if in fire signs, watches at least 5 shorts/reels a day. Doomscrolls their feed. Watches cooking tutorial or natural skin care remedies. If in earth signs, has a schedule for when to clean and when to run errands and expects their kids to follow/help. Learns new hobbies later in life like in their 40's. Prefers a clean kitchen. If in water signs, breaks things accidentally and spills coffee or other drinks often. Religiously drinks coffee or at least into green tea and such. Into collecting things they like such as pokemon cards, art collections and such. If in air signs, they are their worst enemy and comes up with worst scenarios in their head which never happens in reality. Talks and smiles to self like if someone seen them smiling, talking to themselves, would be seen as a crazy or a weirdo. Inner voice is their best friend. Unemployed/underpaid in some cases.

7th house placements if in fire signs, has this "world is your oyster" vibe and grass is always greener on the other side for them. Has Plan B. If in earth signs, multitaskers. When comes to love, juggles between two people and also loves architectural designs like interior designs and all(eg: Pinterest and Zillow). If in water signs, never satisfied with things or people. Either a drunk or the sober friend. Also a hopeless romantic. If in air signs, struggles with decision making. Migraines and hate loud noises or loud people. If single, in a relationship with their bed.

8th house placements if in fire signs, sexual tension or sexual conquest. Loves the chase and an ego boost and defensive in relationships. One-night stands/flings. If in earth signs, picky with whom they let in. Asexual in rare cases. Transactional relationships or relationships based on sex rather than any real love in some cases. If in water signs, one-sided sexual attraction, BDSM and such. Fantasizes about their interest sexually and watches p*rn to get off. If in air signs, into hard-core p*rn fantasies, abused/cheated on in relationships, sex when travelling, aquaphobia if moon is placed, quickly jumps from one interest to another. LGBTQIA+ in some cases.

9th house placements if in fire signs, smells BS from a mile away. Likes k-pop or other culture movies/songs than their own. Would leave everything behind to pursue their passion and start from scratch. Into animal rescues and like action movies. If in air signs, prefers an apartment/penthouse/condo than a home in the suburbs. Loves to attend concerts, rallies, festival events and all. Not a homebody or gets depressed if stayed home for longer periods of time. Likes stand-up comedy. Watches true crime. If in water signs, loves to travel via water or at least swim in lakes or rivers in the weekend. Fishing/sea food in some cases. Potential to become a chef/ just food business or simply eat at buffets. If in earth signs, watches home building tutorials/DIY construction kits. Loves snow/rain. Spends at least an hour/day on shopping apps or might even sell stuffs online. Could be into vintage/futuristic fashion and buys gadgets/antiques. Into old model cars/scifi cars in some cases.

10th house placements if in fire signs, have a start-up founder like passion and energy. Moves away for career. Has Plan B,C,D like an accountant in the morning and comedian in the evening. Career change might happen later in life to follow passion. If in earth signs, two or more sources of income is possible. Strategist and an "insider". Knows things most of us don't have access to or not known by public. Sometimes becomes a stay-at-home parent after kids enter the picture and willingly takes a backseat in their career. If in water signs, values connections which sometimes gets romantic. Co-workers/colleagues are like family. Fakes their smile or acts friendly to people they don't like but do so to avoid being called rude. If in air signs, trusts people blindly sometimes, gets betrayed by people they knew well, unemployed/underpaid in some cases.

11th house placements if in fire signs, debates in the comment section, struggles to stand out from crowd/find their community or niche, feels lonely even when surrounded by people. One man army. If in earth signs, feels too old for trends like a grandma/grandpa to tech or live in the 2050s. Struggles to be heard in groups or spends time and money on people as what others think of them matters. If in water signs, talks to strangers online looking for love and connection. Long-distance relationships which might or might not develop further. Spends on celebrity products/merch in some cases. If in air signs, send pics to strangers online or an active OF account in some cases. Could get blackmailed/hacked in some cases. Probably has a troll account.

12th house placements if in fire signs, feels like the side character in their own life. Fire on the inside, calm and composed on the outside. If they do succeed in life, people around them won't even believe they can do great things. Hides their true self. If in earth signs, clean and tidy when happy, poor hygiene and unkempt hair/nails if depressed. Skin and food allergies. Body image issues/self-harm tendencies. If in water signs, falls for unavailable people, hypochondriacs, diabetes/blood pressure issues later in life in some cases. Dehydration/over-indulgence. Cries under the sheets or in the shower. If in air signs, might develop su*cidal thoughts/self-destructive tendencies, stalk exes online or gets stalked. Hides their true opinion on things and says what's acceptable in the society. Writes under a pen name. When 12th house placements move far away from native, they usually get seen/recognized by people there and loved more.

Wanna go deeper into the layers of your placements? DM me for a complete astrology reading or a 5 year/8 year marriage report🌙💬 and check out my pinned post for pricing + details 💫💸

Let’s decode your cosmic chaos together ⭐

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zoro-sremedy · 1 month ago

Text

THAT'S WHAT I WANT!

Look, you know it's harder to find in these times But I got nothing but love on my mind (my mind) I need a baby with love in my prime

Synopsis. You tell them they're the prettiest, bestest boys.

Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Shiu, Nobara and Shoko as special guests.

WARNING? fluff, maybe something suggestive, you guys only like smut like c'mon this is cute, some swearing? I don't remember. Sukuna's may or may not be weird, enjoy it anyways lmao

A/N: y'all know the drill, the text thread:

COME SAY IT TO MY FACE, PRETTY

GOJO SATORU—"YOU CAME TO SEE ME?"

You knock once before letting yourself in, and predictably, he's already halfway out of his chair like he's been pacing in anticipation. Gojo Satoru—stronger sorcerer alive, Six Eyes activated, infinity flexed like it's a second skin—looks like he's about to faint from excitement.

"You actually came," he breathes dramatically, hands on his hips like he's witnessing a miracle. "To tell me I'm pretty. In person. I'm honored."

You close the door behind you, lips twitching. "Don't make it weird."

"Oh no," he says, stepping closer, "I'm making it so weird." He's already leaning in, all six feet and whatever of pure cocky chaos towering over you with a twinkle in his eye.

"So? Let me hear it again."

You roll your eyes, stepping into his space anyway, palms flat against his chest. "You're really, really pretty," you murmur. "Like… ruin-me-for-anyone-else level pretty."

Gojo goes stock still for a moment. Then:

"Marry me."

You snort. "You'd propose over a compliment."

"Baby, I'd propose over less. I almost proposed when you brought me coffee that one time."

Before you can respond, he dips down and kisses you—eager, grinning against your lips, like he's been waiting all day for an excuse. His hands frame your face with surprising gentleness, even as he walks you back until your hips hit the desk.

The kiss is slow, deepens, his forehead resting against yours. "You really mean it?" he asks softly, brushing your hair back. "That I'm… y'know. Pretty?"

Your fingers curl in his collar. "You're beautiful, Satoru."

He melts—literally melts—into a puddle of pleased energy, groaning like he's physically pained by the sweetness. Then he's kissing you again, open-mouthed and greedy, mumbling something like, "you have no ides what that does to me," between kisses.

And just like that, the office is full of soft sighs, rustling papers, and Gojo whispering praise right back into your mouth like he's trying to one-up you.

Spoiler: he can't. But he sure as hell tries.

GETO SUGURU—"DISRESPECTFULLY PRETTY"

You don't knock. You never knock anymore.

The door swings open like it's been waiting, warmth spilling out of Geto's apartment along with the earthy, calming scent of tea and whatever incense he lit just to show off. Probably sandalwood. Definitely smug.

And there he is.

Geto Suguru, all soft shadows and dangerous calm, draped in a loose robe and nothing underneath, collarbone on sinful display, hair still damp from a shower. It cascades down one shoulder in thick, dark waves, a few strands clinging to his neck like they missed the towel.

You freeze in the doorway, not even trying to hide your stare.

"See," you murmur under your breath, loud enough for him to hear, "disrespectfully pretty."

His gaze lifts slowly from the book in his lap, mouth quirking up like he knew exactly what effect he'd have on you. Smirk. Smirk.

"I thought you were kidding about coming over just to insult me," he says, voice soft and warm with amusement.

"I said bite," you correct, already shedding your jacket. "Not insult."

"Mmm." He sets his book aside as you close the distance. "Then I suppose I should apologize—"

"You're not sorry."

"No," he admits smoothly. "Not even a little."

Your knees hit the edge of the couch, and he opens his arms in quiet invitation. You don't hesitate. You slide right into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, hands sliding into that perfect, soft hair like you've done a hundred times in your head and only a few in real life.

"So what's the verdict?" he hums. "Prettier in person?"

You lean in, close enough your breath touches his lips. "Absolutely disgusting how pretty you are."

And before he can make another smart remark, you bite his bottom lip. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him feel it—just a nip, a warning, something to make him still beneath you.

"Ah," he exhales, the smile never leaving. "Dangerous girl."

"You smirked."

"And you liked it."

He surges forward, mouth claiming yours with slow-burning heat, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other slips under your shirt at the small of your back. You melt into it, fingers twisting in his hair, legs pulling him closer like instinct. His lips are soft but deep, greedy—but never rough. Just enough pressure to make your pulse stutter.

“I like when you say pretty things,” he murmurs against your temple. “But I like them better in person.”

You turn your head to face him, your knees bracketing his hips, and whisper, “You gonna let me braid your hair later?”

His smile softens. “Only if you stay the night.”

And you kiss him—right then and there, in the quiet, candle-glow room with the softest, most dangerous man you know—because how could you not?

NANAMI KENTO— "SOMETHING SWEET"

Nanami always knocks. Three solid, polite raps before he lets himself in, every time. He does it now, even though you said the door would be open. Even though he's here at your request. Even though you texted "come say thank you in person" like it was nothing, like it didn't send a rare flick of anticipation through his otherwise steady routine.

You meet him at the door, beaming, hoodie-swallowed and barefoot.

"You brought pastries," you note with a grin, pointing at the box.

"You said you liked the ones from the café near the office."

You had said that once. A passing comment, weeks ago.

He set the box down on the kitchen counter while you bounce behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

"You remembered," you murmur, face pressed against his back, smelling the comfort of his smell.

"I remember what's important," he says quiet and honest.

You nuzzle into him from behind, arms slipping around his waist. "That's hot."

He huffs, lips twitching. "You're incorrigible."

"Am I wrong?"

He turns, slowly, placing his hands lightly on your waist. You're still grinning up at him, unashamed.

"No," he admits after a beat, brushing a hand down your back, gentle and firm. "But you do fluster me more than I care to admit."

You press a kiss to his cheek—just shy of the corner of his mouth.

"Good."

And then his hand slides to your jaw. Not rushed. Not forceful. Just decisive. His thumb strokes the skin just beneath your ear as he leans in. His mouth meets yours like he's tasting something rare—like you're another thing he intends to memorize. It's tender, but deeper than the first kiss should be, and your knees almost give at how good it feels to be handled with that kind of control.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless.

“You brought sweets,” you whisper.

“Yes.”

“But you’re the one who tastes good.”

He sighs. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe,” you grin, tugging him by the tie. “But I’ll make it sweet.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI— "THE HAND THAT HOLDS YOU"

You're curled on the couch when Toji arrives, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, a half-finished mug of the tea on the table. The front door shuts with a soft thunk, and heavy footstep draw closer—but he doesn't say anything when he sees you.

Just stands there. Looking at you.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

He shrugs out of his jacket and steps into your space like he can't help it, like he's being pulled. "You don't text me like that often."

You smile. "It wasn't meant to be dramatic."

"It wasn't. Just…" he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Caught me off guard."

You reach for his hand without asking. It's warm, scarred, large—so big your fingers can't even wrap around his palm completely. You lift it to your lips and kiss his knuckles.

"I meant it," you say, eyes soft. "I love these hands. Not just what they do to me—but what they mean. You always show up for me with them. You always hold me."

Toji looks down at you like he's not sure what to do with that. His usual smirk flickers but doesn't land. Instead, his fingers flex around yours, gripping just a little tighter.

"You're really trying to make me soft tonight, huh," he murmurs.

"You already are," you whisper, tugging him down to sit beside you.

He does. His arm snakes around your shoulders, your legs end up draped across his lap, and he sinks into the couch like it's the first time he's able to breathe all day. For a moment, neither of you speak. You just rest your head against him, and he runs his hand up and down your back—slow, steady, reassuring.

"You make it easy," he finally says.

"What?"

"Being good. Trying to be… I don't know. A better version of me. You make it feel like maybe I deserve that."

You smile against his chest. "You do."

He leans down and kisses your temple.

And then, after a beat, he mutters, "Still wouldn't mind using these hands for other things, though."

You burst out laughing, smacking his chest. "There's the Toji I know."

"Hey," he says, shrugging with a half-smile, "you started it."

SHIU KONG—"SAY IT AGAIN"

Shiu's always been a complicated man. Cynical. Cold on the outside. Hot as hell in a fight. Impossible to read unless you knew him like you did—like someone who peeled back the armor over time and kissed the bruises underneath.

Which is why when you told him, in the softest voice, "I think you're a good man, Shiu," he blinked like you'd slapped him with a flower.

"You tryna make me throw up?" he muttered. But his hand didn't move from where it curled around yours.

"No," you said, smiling up at him, "I'm trying to say thank you. I see you. You pretend you're not soft but… you kinda are. For the people you care about. For me.

He scoffed, not meeting your eyes. "Soft? Sweetheart, I once broke a man's wrist for using my favorite ashtray."

"And you tucked me in when I was sick last month."

"…That never happened."

"You made me tea."

"That was for me. You just happened to be sick."

You leaned into him, pressing your face to his shoulder. "You keep pretending you don't care. But you do. You care so much."

His breath caught.

You felt it—for just a second—his entire body going still. Like your words landed too deep, in a part of him he'd forgotten how to guard. His hand tightened on your thigh. Then, a muttered, gruff: "You're lucking you're cute."

"I know."

A beat . Then quieter: "You really think that? That I'm good?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

He looked at you finally, something vulnerable flickering under the sarcasm. "Say it again."

You cupped his cheek, smiled, and whispered, "you're a good man, Shiu."

He kissed you before you even finish that sentence—slow, heated, grateful, like he didn't know what to do with all that affection except press it into your lips, your skin, the places you always let him in.

And if he ended up pulling you into his lap and refusing to let you go for the rest of the night?

Well. Feelings were a crime, and Shiu Kong was officially guilty as hell.

RYOMEN SUKUNA— "ON HIS THRONE"

The throne room is empty save for him, draped in night and firelight. Ryomen Sukuna sits on his obsidian throne like he was carved into it—legs spread wide, arms resting on the jagged ends like a deity expecting tribute. His crown of marks glows faintly, like embers not yet cooled.

You step in with bare feet and a pounding heart, your breath caught somewhere between fear and awe.

He doesn't move. He waits.

You drop to your knees before him.

"Say it," Sukuna commands. His voice rumble through the walls, low and hungry. "Tell me what I am."

You meet his gaze, eyes soft but unflinching. "You're power. Destruction. Fire. But when you touch me, you're home."

He inhales sharply through his nose—just once—and then leans forward like the beast is barely caged.

"Again."

"You're my king," you whisper. "My ruin, my temple. I worship you with everything I am."

He growls low in his chest, and in one swift motion, grabs your chin—not roughly, but firmly enough that your breath stutter—and guides you to your feet only to pull you onto his lap, sideways across his thighs. The throne creaks beneath the movement, but neither of you care.

Your hands rest against his chest, heartbeat staccato. His hand stays on your chin as his eyes roam your face like he's trying to etch every soft part of you into the stone of his memory.

"I don't understand you," Sukuna murmurs, voice rough, forehead pressing to yours. "You kneel like a devotee and sit on my throne like a queen. You bow to me, but it's you who ruins me."

You smile softly. "Good."

He chuckles darkly, then grabs your waist with one hand, the other cradling the back of your head as he kisses you—open mouthed, almost desperate. There's bloodlust in it, yes, but also devotion. A barbaric kind of worship.

When he pulls away, his thumb brushes your lower lip. "You don't bow to me because you fear me. You bow because you choose to. And that…" His voice drops, teeth grazing your throat, "is the only thing more addictive than power."

You settle against him as he leans back, content—for now—to keep you right there on his throne, wrapped in him, like you were made for no other purpose.

ITADORI YUJI— "HUG TAX"

You find him in the common room, hunched over a takeout container and still visibly pink in the cheeks. His hair's a mess, and he's wearing that oversized hoodie you definitely stope from him once but somehow he stole back.

The moment he sees you, Yuji lights up—then instantly hides his face behind his hands.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Too cute. I'm not ready."

You laugh, walking over and kneeling next to the couch. "You've had like twenty minutes to process one compliment."

"That's not enough time!" he protest, voice muffled by his palms. "You called me the most huggable person in the universe. That's heavy. There are like… aliens out there, probably."

"You're cuter than aliens," you shrug casually, settling in beside him. "Also, I'm here to collect my hug tax."

He peeks at you through his fingers. "There's a hug tax?"

"There is now."

Yuji drops his hands with a resigned little groan—but it turns into a goofy smile as you climb onto the couch beside him and wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest. His arms come around you like instinct, big and warm and just the tiniest bit shaky.

"You're seriously gonna kill me one day with all this affection," he mumbles into your hair.

"Happy to be the cause of death."

He laughs—really laughs—and pulls you closer, squeezing tight.

"God, I love you."

You grin into his hoodie. "You'd better."

He huffs a bashful little chuckle and rests his chin on top your head. "Still can't believe I'm the most huggable in the universe though. That's like…. A lot of responsibility."

"You're doing a perfect job."

And he holds you a little tighter, glowing so hard you're surprised the room doesn't burst into light.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI — "DISASTER BOYFRIEND, SOFT HEART"

You do not listen to him and absolutely show up at his door.

He opens it, hoodie half-zipped, hair pushed back messily like he's run a hand through it a dozen times since your text—and his eyes immediately narrow.

"You're seriously here?"

You just beam. "Told you I wanted to say it to your face."

"I told you to stay put."

He doesn't move, blocking the doorway like the world's least intimidating bouncer—but his ears undeniably pink.

You take a step closer, grin stretching. "What, scared I'll call you beautiful again?"

"You're lucky I like you," he mutters, but he doesn't stop you when you cup his jaw with both hands and gently pull him in for a kiss. It's soft at first, warm and steady.

And then he sighs—like he's finally letting his guard down.

"You're impossible," he mumbles against your lips.

"You like it."

"I tolerate it."

But when you pull back, he's the only one chasing another kiss, one hand sliding around your waist. His voice a low grumble in your ear: "Say that poetic crap again and I swear I'll ruin your night."

"Oh no," you deadpan, eyes twinkling. "Heaven forbid the beautiful man kisses me senseless."

His mouth twitches. "You asked for it."

KUGISAKI NOBARA— "CAN'T TAKE A COMPLIMENT"

You find her on the couch in sweats and a clay mask drying on her face, legs up and an open bottle of nail polish dangerously balanced on a throw pillow.

She doesn't even glance up when you walk in. "Can't moisturize away your charm, babe."

"Gross," she mutters—but she's already trying no to smile.

You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, ignoring the mask. "Still stunning."

She rolls her eyes so hard you're surprised they don't fall out. "You're such a simp."

"You like it."

"Shut up and kiss me before I throw this nail polish at your forehead."

So you do—long, slow, and with your hand slipping under her hoodie to hold her waist. When you pull back, she's glaring at you like you're the problem, but her cheeks are a telltale shade of pink.

"I hate how good that was," she mutters.

You grin. "Told you. Devastating."

She clicks her tongue. "You really are the worst. But… you're my worst."

SHOKO IEIRI— "CALL IT A HOUSE CALL"

You let yourself into Shoko’s place using the key she insists she only gave you “for emergencies,” and immediately smell cheap incense, red wine, and that citrusy shampoo she never admits to using.

She’s curled up sideways on the couch, long legs tangled in a blanket, wine glass balancing dangerously on her knee. “Took you long enough,” she murmurs without looking up.

“I brought snacks.” You hold up a bag of chips and some chocolate bars like a peace offering.

“Saint.” She finally turns her head and gives you a lazy smile that melts your spine. “Come here and let me kiss the brain damage out of you.”

You toss the snacks on the table, climb onto the couch, and let her pull you in like gravity. Her fingers slip under your shirt just to warm her hands on your skin, and the kiss she gives you is slow, a little tipsy, and entirely intoxicating.

When you pull back, she smirks. “Still hopelessly in love?”

You nod, grinning. “Maybe even worse now.”

She hums, sips her wine, and gestures at your pants. “Good. Prove it.”

633 notes · View notes

eicsferrari · 3 months ago

Text

so my darling - cl16 smau

requested: yes♡

face claim: nailea devora & other pinterest pictures

a/n: i LOVED this concept and i think this is my favorite au i've done so far. tysm for the request<3 also idk and i will never learn the difference between in/on/at, i just vibe it bc i don't care

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

Then

charlesleclerc beach forever⛱️

tagged yn

♡liked by arthur_leclerc & others

yn shell yeah! seas the day

charlesleclerc my god your puns are terrible

yn shut up😔 u secretly like them

charlesleclerc if that's what you need to believe...

arthur_leclerc without me? i sea how it is

charlesleclerc DON'T ENCOURAGE HER

yn YES ARTHUR WELCOME TO THE PUN CLUB we get together every thursday🤝🏼

pascale.leclerc.355 ❤️ hope you had fun! ♡liked by author & yn

જ ♡ જ

Now

📍london

yn dump of a great weeekend

♡liked by bestfriend & others

bestfriend prettiest girl😍

yn youuu

user1 new music when???

user2 i miss seeing charles in the comment section

user3 it's been 3 years move on🙄

arthur_leclerc bet the england rain makes you miss home ♡liked by author

yn i always miss home❤️

user4 i don't understand what happened between charles and her but it cannot be that bad if arthur and her are still friends

user5 i agree but idk how close they still are. they comment on each other posts but we never saw them together again

જ ♡ જ

Then

yn can't believe this kid is going to be a f1 driver. charles, my best friend, the most important person in my life: i'm so incredibly proud of you. you deserve this more than anyone. whatever happens, whatever you do, i hope you know you'll always have me❤️

♡liked by pascale.leclerc.355 & others

charlesleclerc i love you

yn i love you more

pascale.leclerc.355 i always adored that picture of you two!

yn me too <3

arthur_leclerc you made him cry

yn he's not special i've Been crying

જ ♡ જ

Now

જ ♡ જ

Then

yn he won me a plushie :)

♡liked by charlesleclerc & others

charlesleclerc two plushies*

yn liar you said you wanted to keep the big one

charlesleclerc well in my defense it's ferrari red, call it a manifestation tactic

arthur_leclerc only yn could convince you to do karaoke

charlesleclerc it's not fair! she said "bet you won't do it" so my competitive ass had to

yn nooo don't spill my secret way to make you do everything i want

arthur_leclerc acting like he doesn't do anything you want regardless🙄

જ ♡ જ

Now

yn posted a story

💽scott street - phoebe bridgers

↪bestfriend replied to your story: good luck🤞🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn bday boyyyyy!! cheers to pour decisions

♡liked by arthur_leclerc & others

arthur_leclerc last night was so much fun!! thank you for coming

yn always❤️ how's your head?

arthur_leclerc it hurts. i think the tequila was too much

yn you should've drawn the lime!

arthur_leclerc i-

user6 charles and yn were at the same place, this is not a drill. i repeat, charles and yn at the same place!

bestfriend hot pics but text me!

yn better yet come over

user7 let us in, share the convo with the chat🙏🏼

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

💽best friend - conan grey

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc life has been good lately

♡liked by pierregasly & others

user8 is that yn or am i going insane???

user9 you might be onto something

yn was the boat on sail?

charlesleclerc don't

yn you missed my puns admit it

charlesleclerc i missed all of you

user10 i waited years for this😭

જ ♡ જ

yn don't mind me, just (tea)sing

♡liked by charlesleclerc & others

user11 THAT'S LEO

user12 charles in the likes war is overrrrr

scuderiaferrari that jacket🔥 ♡liked by the author

yn thank you admin, i've been saving it for a special ocassion

user13 this better mean we are getting yn back on that paddock 🙏🏼

charlesleclerc red looks good on you❤️

user14 he is flirting, right? or am i delusional?

જ ♡ જ

💽cowboy - selena gomez & benny blanco

yn cowboy boots give a kick to any outfit🤠🏆

texas u were fun. ferrari 1-2❤️

tagged charlesleclerc

carlossainz55 perfect weekend, forza ferrarri!

yn congrats on p2!! just two chili guys on the podium

carlossainz55 houston, we have a pun!

charlesleclerc it's contagious, it's a disease at this point

iamrebeccad beautiful girl😍

yn i love youuu let's get coffee soon

charlesleclerc it was special having you there<3

yn can't believe i was there to see you win!! i sobbed the entire time

yn problem is now you set the bar too high. i expect you to win every time i go to see you

charlesleclerc i'll do my best😉 anything to impress you

user15 yes he is flirting

જ ♡ જ

arthur_leclerc posted a story

જ ♡ જ

yn "so my darling" out now

comments have been disabled

જ ♡ જ

charlesleclerc remember i'll always love you

♡liked by yn & others

bestfriend ok leclerc guess i will share the best friend title🙄🙄

charlesleclerc i was here first ?

bestfriend i already said i agreed to share it don't push your luck and take what you can

arthur_leclerc fucking finally! it only took you like twenty years

yn always and forever❤️

charlesleclerc ❤️

જ ♡ જ

taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @readtoooomuch @2bormaybenot

#f1 smau #formula 1 smau #charles leclerc smau #cl16 smau #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 x yn #cl16 au #cl16 fic #cl16 fanfic #childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers

646 notes · View notes

lia-linny · 10 months ago

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summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

note: i lost the request but who ever asked for this i hope you enjoy. ♡

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.

#kpop #south korea #boyfriend #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids oneshot #stray kids hyunjin #jyp stray kids #jypartists #jyp entertainment #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader

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rex-rambles · 3 months ago

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➤ HOMEMAKER | LEWIS HAMILTON

summary: if your past relationships have taught you anything, you'll never be a homemaker, as hard as you try - so what do you do when lewis comes home to you? (inspired by 'homemaker' by next of kin)

pairing: lewis hamilton x celebrity!reader

wc: 1.8 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending, discussions of negative past relationships

➤ MASTERLIST

You had gotten used to silence.

It didn't matter that you had adoring fans, or paparazzi trailing you, photoshoots or interviews, when you were alone, you were silent. That's how it always seemed to be, anyway.

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, not saying a word as you're curled up at the end of some guy's couch. Sometimes, you had a book. Sometimes, you had a mug of tea or coffee, clothes actually put away in drawers or closets.

Other times you were just passing through.

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, phone left on the table in front of you, waiting for that text, that call, anything. It always started out sweet, the messages, the compliments, only to turn to silence in a few months time. If you had a dollar for every night you spent like this, you could buy an island somewhere far away to be silent in, but instead, you waste your time and your money on the rare chance that they come through in the end.

They never do.

In your fantasies, they're knights in shining armour, who come home with flowers or a surprise dinner, but even you couldn't fool yourself sometimes. You don't think any of the guys you'd seen have ever fantasized about you in that way, either, because you already did it. You showed up, you planned surprises, you played the role of the loving, doting partner.

Yet, despite it all, you weren't a homemaker at the end of the day. It wasn't even like you were trying to be some stay-at-home spouse, you just wanted a relationship that was real, that lasted, that you could call home.

But, no matter how much time, or energy, or god forbid love you put into a relationship, it didn't last. In the end, it seemed that you just housed people who liked you break your heart. Men saw a star, something to chase, but never keep. Marriage was never in the cards, something long, something stable either. There was a time you used to dream about it, of actually settling down and finding enough love somewhere to marry someone, but now, you'd seen the worst of enough men to be content with silence, with not throwing your life away for them.

It didn't stop you from curling up on strangers' couches, or watching your phone.

It just made it that much more pitiful.

"God," Lewis's voice makes you jump, mug of tea rocking forward and spilling onto his probably ridiculously expensive carpet. Penthouse guys always splashed out on whatever cost the most, even if it didn't look good. "Shit, sorry babe."

"Shit," You echo somewhat numbly, trying to rise to find something to clean it up with, and Lewis waves a hand, moving from the open front door to the kitchen, and you can't help but stare at it.

The hallway is brightly lit at all hours, casting a warm glow into the darkened apartment. It's like a little glimpse into whatever heaven Lewis had come from, and you spare a glance at your phone on the table, no message waiting for you. You'd surprised him, by being here, and he'd surprised you by showing up.

Lewis returns with a roll of paper towel, dropping to your feet to try and pat down the carpet, and he spares a glance up at you. "What are you still doing up?" He asks, before noticing the door is open. "Can you get that for me?"

"I was going to wait to see if you made it in on time." You answer as you slowly move to the door, pulling Lewis's luggage aside as you close it, casting the apartment in darkness again. For some reason, you can't bring yourself to turn any lights on, so you stand in the little front hall, staring at the shadows of Lewis as he does a fairly poor job of cleaning.

"It's so late," He says, finally rising with his hands full of soaked paper towel. "You should be in bed. You should be at home."

"I can go." Most didn't want you to stay, anyway. Some liked this little gesture, of waiting up for them, surprising them with their favourite, back home treats after long periods away, but you'd only been going out with Lewis for a month or two now. It might be overstepping, or it might just be another sign of commitment you can never have.

"No, no." Lewis says, throwing the paper towel away in the kitchen and flicking on the overhead island light. It was a soft kind of glow that made Lewis seem that much warmer, and the dark that much farther from him. "I gave you the key for a reason, but it's almost 2 AM. You're going to ruin your sleep schedule."

You move forward to stand in the shadows of the living room, wrapping your arms around his oversized shirt you'd adopted to sleep in for the past few days. "You're one to talk," You try to tease, though it doesn't quite reach your voice. "How many time zones have you gone through this week?"

"That's different." Lewis says, coming to stand before you. His hands are gentle on your waist, pulling you close to him. "You really stayed up? For me?"

"Even got those brownies you like from that bakery." You say, gesturing to the kitchen counter. Lewis glances over and a warm laugh bubbles out of him, echoing off the walls. Your hands come to smooth against his chest, as if to feel that he's actually there. It wouldn't last, history tells you. He'd be this sweet, for so long, and then he'd go.

"Great minds think alike, hm?" Lewis moves to grab one of his bags, and he fishes out a somewhat crumpled container that he hands to you, a logo embossed on the top that you'd recognize anywhere. "There was that cookie place you liked, and I had a layover. I was going to surprise you with them tomorrow, but you sort of beat me to that."

You slowly take the cookies in hand, and silence rests over you once more.

It was a regional bakery, a place you talked about loving as a kid. No one ever really cared about it, it was just a sweet story to share over desserts to make people think you had something to talk about. You spare a glance back up at Lewis, who smiles softly back down at you, and neither of you says a word.

You had gotten used to silence, but you didn't know how to break it. You didn't know how to vocalize that he'd remembered, that, cracking open the top, he'd even gotten the flavour right, that he went out of his way to get them for you. You don't know how to think about this as anything other than doomed, but all the signs keep saying otherwise.

Gently, Lewis's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, turning it so it's more in the light of the kitchen. "Are you alright?" He asks quietly, "Tired?"

"I-" All words die on your tongue. You didn't know how to be anything other than what the world wanted to see of you, of a star with their equally famous partner, of being too much or not enough, never going anywhere. Every relationship had been some kind of car wreck, wheels spinning uselessly as you tried to move forward when all they wanted to do was press on the break.

You didn't know how to love Lewis. You just knew how to pretend.

"You can tell me, you know." He says, letting his hand drop. "You've always got this look on your face, like you're so far away. Is it me?"

"You?" You manage to get out softly, "No."

"Don't say 'it's me, not you'," Lewis says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "Give me something real."

"You didn't text." You find yourself saying, and Lewis pulls back with a knowing look.

"Didn't want to wake you. But this isn't about that, because you told me just yesterday I don't have to check in all the time." He moves forward until you hit his couch, and easily he lifts you up to sit on the back of it, cookie box now resting in your lap, and he leans his arms on either side of your legs. "So? You making up reasons to leave?"

Maybe. You stare down at the open box of cookies, and as honestly as you can, you try to explain the strange sort of pulling feeling at your heart. "Most guys don't text. When they go out, or when they travel, it's just radio silence. They give me a time, and I stay up, and they don't show."

"Most guys?"

"You know my reputation, Lewis." It was every other headline, every other blurry photo. You were the one they called a heartbreaker, despite the fact you were the one who wanted these things to work out. "I'm not exactly a homemaker." It's not that you didn't try, that despite it all you wanted to have the perfect relationship, but that they didn't let you. "Men come into my life, and for a blissful moment, I convince myself it'll work out, and it never does. No one's getting down on one knee, no one's remembering anniversaries, they just leave. Because of me."

"That's not because of you." Lewis tries to defend, and you shake your head.

"It is." It's a gallant thought, to try and defend you like that, but at this point there is only one part of this equation that remains the same: you. "I'm too famous, or I'm not famous enough. I'm too clingy, or I don't care about their art. I'm too far away, I can't travel, I'm just not enough. And you didn't text."

Lewis moves one hand to gently graze the side of your thigh, gently rubbing his thumb in circles. "So you didn't expect me to walk through that door. That's why I scared you."

"I get their apartments all nice and ready, change the sheets, pick up a favourite of theirs, get a text about it the next day and they repay me for it with a fancy dinner to make us both feel less guilty." You admit, suddenly far too close to Lewis to stop. "And you showed up. You remembered. Why?"

"Why?" Lewis echoes, sounding rather surprised by the question. "Because it meant something to you."

"No." No, it didn't mean something to you, that's not how your partners have ever thought. It had to mean something to them, a bribe, something to ease the guilt, something to help them, not you. "It meant something to you."

"Yeah, you mean something to me." The words force the air from your lungs, and Lewis leans forward to gently press his forehead to yours. Maybe it was that he was a British gentleman, maybe that he was a different kind of a celebrity, maybe that he was older, but he was different, and you didn't know what to do with that. "I guess I've been out of the dating pool too long," He jokes softly under his breath, "Seems like the world has lost their minds."

You try your best to laugh, a small, sad thing, and Lewis pulls back to stare at you in a way you fantasized about for years. "Lewis," You finally manage to say, "I...I don't know what to do with all this."

"You don't have to. Just let me care for you." Maybe that was how love worked, after all.

You didn't have to know how to do it, or how it worked, but rather, you just tried your best to care for those who meant something to you.

Lewis's arms come under your knees as he scoops you up, carrying you bridal style toward his bedroom, and for the first time, in a long time, you think that this might last. "And to begin, that means getting us to bed."

a/n: LISTEN TO NEXT OF KIN!! Homemaker and Jekyll and Hyde are my favourites

#➤ rex works #➤ lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 angst #formula one x reader #f1 imagines #reader insert

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chillentertainer · 5 months ago

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thinkin' abt a little john wick conclave au where thomas lawrence is an aging assassin who keeps trying to retire but then is forcibly brought back for "one last hit" (first said to him half a dozen hits ago). lawrence is tired and depressed and he might be really good at his job (and that might be the only thing he's good at) but that Saddens him. because is his only purpose in life to be a Butcher?

not to mention he just recovered from prostate cancer and is now thinking a lot about the afterlife and god and sin etc etc. he's sure he's destined for hell no matter what he does now. is there even any point in changing?

one day he's in rome, surrounded by all these churches. and he enters one. he goes into a confession booth. every week, he confesses minor sins that turn into lovely but frivolous discussions with the anonymous priest, who lawrence can only identify through his gentle voice and bright, easily elicited laugh that reminds lawrence of morning birdsongs. over the weeks, this blossoms into a strange kind of friendship.

finally during a discussion about their favorite kinds of tea, lawrence interrupts the priest's recommendation of kahwah, which they had so often in their time in kabul, and was so delicious, and they just can't find anything close to what they had here, isn't that a shame, and i beg your pardon, what??

i kill people, lawrence repeats. all the time. i want to stop but i can't. i want to retire but they won't let me. i'm afraid being a murderer is how i spent most of my life, and i'm afraid it's how i'll spend the rest of my years, too. i'm the lowliest of sinners. i'm the evil that should be wiped clean from the earth. if god cast me down into the fires of hell for eternity, again and again, i would gladly welcome it.

and there is a heavy silence during which lawrence tenses, waiting for a horrified outburst or some rage.

but the priest says, with infinite compassion in his tone, you are still here on earth with us. and so god, in his mercy, has given you time to beg forgiveness and find redemption. make amends, however you can. take no more life, not for any reason. you say you want to stop. then stop. i believe you have good in your heart. you would not have come here if you did not.

thomas says, yes, yes i will, i swear on His name. i'm sorry for having wasted all your time these past weeks, i should not have done so.

and finally he says, goodbye. because there's no point in returning and attempting to continue this friendship, not when the priest must be so disgusted and would want nothing to do with lawrence any longer.

the priest says nothing in return and it hurts but lawrence knows he deserves it. he deserves far, far worse, and god, why can't he be punished now or just die and suffer eternal torment, and then, maybe, maybe, his soul could feel some bloody relief. but the priest said, make amends. can't make amends if you're dead.

so lawrence returns to his miserable apartment, to try and make amends, whatever that means. he decides to leave rome and begins to pack. he wanders the streets in a daze and gives all the euros he has on him to a beggar. on saturday, the day he would've gone to confession, he buys kahwah from a bemused shopkeeper.

he returns to find his next assignment on his kitchen counter in the form of a usb stick. he doesn't want to open it. but if he leaves it alone for too long, they'll send agents to track him down and he'll get an earful from aldo. better to open the assignment and fool them now. he'll disappear from rome right after.

lawrence plugs in the usb stick. there's a name he doesn't recognize. he clicks through the research on his next victim that ray had meticulously assembled. there is a video. he hits play. a voice starts speaking. and lawrence spills his hot cup of kahwah all over his keyboard and trousers but he doesn't care because fuck it all, he does know his victim after all.

it's the priest he sat next to week after week, chatting about the merits of herbal medicine and whether agatha christie or arthur conan doyle wrote better mystery novels and about the incompetence of world governments. it's the priest he just confessed to about his true nature, that he wasn't just some englishman adrift in rome, but a cold-blooded killer. it's the priest that heard this and offered him a way out, anyways.

it's vincent benitez.

the video continues, as benitez smiles and waves at a young child, his dark eyes luminescent and kind.

now he has a face and name to the voice, lawrence first thinks, in a daze. he’s even more beautiful than i imagined him to be.

his second thought: what the hell did benitez do to piss somebody off that badly that they want him dead?

#the answer: just being himself tbh #pt 2 ft. lawrence crashing out while he tries to protect vincent without killing more ppl #and starring vincent's nerves of titanium #imagine thomas lawrence to look more around the age ralph fiennes did in james bond #ok that's all i had the energy to type out for now #lawrenitez #thomas lawrence #vincent benitez #conclave #conclave au #assassin conclave au

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biibini · 8 months ago

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first night together pt 2 ✧˖*°࿐

modern!mizu x reader stays the night

tags: NSFW, riding, fingering, wlw, she stretches your insides, hair-pulling, holding hips, lots lots lots of moaning, hickies, mizu watches you ride her like a cowboy yeehaw

a/n: unfortunately i’m 9 months late :,) but this is a continuation of this request. I'm currently changing up my format but ngl the halftone looks so good. what do yall think?

18+ content ahead!

It’s funny, really. 5 minutes ago, you were worried about the spilled tea staining her. Now you've left another stain on Mizu's clothes.

It isn't visible yet, but you're sure she wouldn't mind this one either.

Sitting on top of her lap, her hands surround your thighs, inching closer and closer up to your hips with every caress. Her hands weren't the only things busy with you. Her lips were occupied with your neck, busy leaving fluttering kisses over the surface.

"Mm, you just smell so good.", Mizu comments, her voice low and quiet, before returning to work.

With every touch, you feel a knot continue to twist below your stomach. Deep down, you hope it won't be too long of a night. You couldn't stand the idea of waiting for her touch.

Her lips pepper your neck with kisses, leaving the night air to cool the burn, making you hum with every touch. Hearing your little squeaks motivates Mizu. Truthfully, it makes her go crazy. As for you, every touch makes your panties dampen.

She takes a deep breath before she attacks your neck with another kiss. You groan once again, thinking it's another direct attack. However, it's different than those beforehand. You feel her lips, now puffy and a vibrant red shade, stick to your neck longer than usual. In the middle, you notice a sucking sensation as Mizu's hands crawl closer to your ass, cupping each check with her hands and slowly firming her grasp.

"M-Mizu!", you yelp.

You feel her immediately pull away, staring up at you in confusion. You won't lie, she looks really cute right now: her face is covered with a deep shade of red, her eyes shimmer a deep blue, wide and lost, almost like a puppy waiting for their next trick.

"Did I do something? Was it too much?", she questions, her hands pulling back from your cheeks.

Was I going too fast, Mizu thinks.

"No, I just-", you start.

"I got carried away, I'm sor-"

"No, don't be!"

Now Mizu was also confused.

"It's good. You're doing... really good, honest.", you admit.

Mizu stares at you, gauging your reaction. You were looking down, avoiding her gaze, biting your lip all at the same time. Was there something you didn't want to tell?

"Really good?", Mizu asks, curious for your answer.

You could only nod, too shy to admit to the full truth: eagerly waiting for Mizu's touch all over your body.

"Really good.", you answer.

Verbally, you couldn't admit that truth. Physically, it was a different story, as Mizu felt your hips subtly rock against her body.

Oh. Ohhhh.

A bulb lights in Mizu's head. She places her hands on your hips, pulling you closer to her thigh, hoping to get another answer from you. Instead, she felt a damp spot on the shorts she gave you. She looked down to find a dark blue spot below in between your thighs.

"How so?", she repeats, a teasing tone behind her answer.

Her breath tickles you. You feel her hands guide your hips to her thigh, pulling you up and down on her. With every motion, she watches the spot on the shorts begin to grow. With every grind, the heat between your legs grew hotter and hotter.

"S-So good.", you confess as you attempt to hold back your pants.

Your eyes continue to look down, finding something to stare at other than her alluring gaze. She's already being a tease, moving your hips by her own will. You can't possibly handle more.

Mizu, on the other hand, continues to move your hips, deepening her grip on you and following your motions. You feel her slender fingers squeeze the skin in hopes of becoming physically closer to you. You follow suit, grinding against her thigh, letting your soaked panties further stain the shorts she gave you. You indulge with every move, pushing down little by little to further satisfy yourself. Eyes shut, you quietly moan at every touch.

It was supposed to be a gentle, soft, slow type of night. It was your first time staying the night with Mizu! A part of you was confused by your desperate longing. You knew you couldn't last a long night at the previous pace, but god, control yourself!

Little did you know that Mizu was also thinking the same thought. As nice as it was to be gentle and leave loving kisses up and down your figure, she knew she couldn't last a long time at a snail's pace.

It wouldn't hurt to pick up the pace, right?

Every part of your body was addicting: your soft lips, your voice whimpering with every thrust, your hips moving against her, your plush thighs pushing against hers. Feeling your inner thighs rocking back and forth, pushing down with every grind to satisfy your clit, you wrap your arms around Mizu. You spot her shoulder and rest your head, amplifying your moans to her right ear. You tighten your embrace with her, staying as close as you physically can as you ride the pulsing sensation below.

So while you were busy riding her thigh, she lessened her grip with every thrust. Now, she was enjoying the show you were putting on.

"Having a good ride?", Mizu teased.

You nodded, panting into her ear.

Mizu places her hands down your back, slowly following the arch down your lower back. You watch her gaze staring at your lower body in awe, concentrated on your riding, while her hands continue to caress you, up and down. With every movement, you faintly feel her thumb pressing down on your skin, outlining circles with the pad of her thumb. With the stability of her hands, you attempt to keep up the original pace to satisfy your throbbing bud.

Your grip, however, loses strength with every grind, pushing your weight on Mizu's chest.

You hear her chuckle in amusement as your hips stagger with each thrust.

"Want to change it up?", she requests.

"Mmhm", you answer, nodding your head into the crook of her neck.

The hum of your voice vibrates against Mizu's neck, comforting her in the intimate position you were in.

"We'll need to take off those shorts beforehand.", she guides her hands down to your lower back, patting down the edge of the shorts with a few playful smacks.

You attempt to pull them off, still stuck and straddling Mizu's leg. With her help, the shorts are thrown across the room as you await Mizu's next instructions. Mizu pulls your waist closer to her body, keeping you straddled on her lap as your panties stain her pajama shorts as well.

"Ready for me?", you hear her breathily whisper into your ear.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, Her words instinctively make your legs squeeze closer, igniting the flame below. You were so ready for her. Forget going slow. Your walls are practically aching for her touch.

"Y-Yeah...", you groan out.

The word 'gentle' was thrown out the window 5 minutes ago. The only thing filling your mind was filthy thoughts begging for Mizu's touch.

Mizu pulls her left hand away from your behind, now moving in between your thighs, inching closer to your swollen clit. Her legs move apart below you, forcing your legs to widen the gateway to your dripping entrance. You feel her fingers gently pull the soaked fabric to the side, only leaving the air standing in the way between you and her fingers.

Mizu aligns her middle finger to your entrance, gently sliding up and down your dripping heat. You groan from the touch, your feedback echoing into a sweet melody to Mizu's ears. You feel the pad of her finger apply pressure as it circled your throbbing clit.

"God, you're soaking wet.", Mizu notes.

Her lips return to your neck, hoping to leave another mark to blossom later, as her fingers continue to caress the outside of your entrance. With every tickling kiss, she made her way down to the collar of the old shirt you gave her. You take it off, leaving you naked atop her lap.

Mizu stares at your bare chest, admiring her view, before continuing down her path. Every kiss planted by her lips singes your skin, leaving little maroon marks behind. At eye level, it was front-row seats to your chest for Mizu. And she took quick advantage of that.

You feel Mizu's tongue lick from below your chest to your nipples, flicking against their hardness. At the same time, Mizu wraps her middle finger with your slick, entering it inside your achy walls.

"A-Ah! Mizu!", you moan in response.

With every thrust of her finger, your walls contract and flex against every push and pull, slowly sucking her in. From your dripping entrance to your hard nipples, all you can do is moan from the stimulation over and inside your body. You feel another digit enter inside, making you moan once again. Your hips begin to shake, slowly matching Mizu's pace.

The grip her right hand has on your hip tightens, assisting your hips with your movements. Every dip into her fingers reaches deeper and deeper into your insides, making you gush out liquid on her hand below. You kept up the pace, leaving the room to be filled with your pants and Mizu's groans muffled by your chest.

Mizu pulls back, enchanted with the view of your hips grinding against her fingers. With every pant, she watches you chase the pleasurable feeling. Her grip fastens as her fingers hit deep inside, every knuckle inside your gummy insides, now brushing against the ceiling.

And oh boy, does it feel good when that twist in your lower stomach tightens every time you bottom out on her slender fingers.

With every thrust, you tightly wrap your arms around Mizu, pulling her closer to you. It’s an intimate position, facing one another, skin to skin, sweating against one another, connected by her fingers stretching your insides.

You feel her fingers curl, searching for that one spot. Her exploration makes your clit throb once again, your walls clamming against her digits, your back arching back. The more she searches, the tighter you grip onto Mizu, your hands searching for a place to hold onto.

Your hands crawl up the back of her neck, grabbing onto her lower scalp, hoping to ease the intensity of your throbbing clit. Mizu finds the spot, tightening your grip on her smooth, raven hair.

You hear a loud groan from Mizu vibrate into your chest. Before you can even process, you feel her fingers pound into you, fast and deep, making you moan louder than ever before. Aiming to hit the right spots, Mizu keeps her grip on your hip, controlling the intensity of the pace.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… fuckkk Y/N”, she moans into your breasts, laying her head atop of them.

You hear her voice mix with the gushing sounds from every thrust she made alongside your moans and pants. This was the very opposite of her promise earlier this night. How very gentle of her.

“What- ah- happened to being so- mm- gentle?.”, you attempted to tease, trying to string a coherent sentence together while her fingers hit that spot again and again.

Mizu smiles, her breathe jagged against your skin.

“Fuck that.”, she answered, her thumb dragging across your clit.

You yelp in response, feeling that knot edging closer and closer to your release. You push your hips downwards, deepening the angle to get closer to your release.

“You feel so so— ah— good on my fingers.”

Her thumb draws circles around your clit, the pad of her finger applying more and more pressure in tandem with her thrusts. Her fingers, your walls, you could feel it all. You could feel yourself inch closer and closer to your release, almost reaching your peak.

Her fingers inside you curl up again, hooking your throbbing walls as the digits shook inside of you.

“Aah- Mizu!”, you moan out, releasing everything, your liquid gushing out like a fountain all over her tired fingers.

Finally hitting your release, you let everything go. The weight of your hips collapse onto her fingers. Your tight grasp on Mizu’s scalp loosens. Your final cry of pleasure erupts as her digits start to slow their speed.

You pull back to see Mizu panting and looking down, distracted with how her hand was practically covered by your slick. Amazed, she slowly pulled out her slender fingers, making you groan again from the lack of stretch below. Her grip on your hip softens, gently stroking your side up and down.

“C’mere, you liar.”, you tease, pulling her close to you, lips interlocking with hers.

—

The morning after was quiet and gentle. You woke up to the sunlight peeking through the blinds, forcing you to turn and face away from Mizu. She groans to the movement, snaking her hand around your lower stomach, carefully pulling you closer to her body. The warmth of her hand heats up your stomach, comforting you into a soft morning cuddle.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Half awake, Mizu hummed in disagreement. You heard her stir behind you, as you felt her get closer to your back, her lips kissing from your neck down to your shoulders. Every touch tickled you, the softness of the sun waking you up.

While distracted with her kisses, you found her hand starting to climb up your upper body, inching closer and closer to your soft chest: aiming to fit a squeeze or two before you could notice.

You huff, amused by her boldness in the early hours. Your mind goes back to how bold you were last night to make you ride atop of her— that’s for another time to dwell on that.

“You promise to be gentle?”, you tease.

Mizu pauses her kisses, letting her hand reach your breasts. You feel her slowly fondling with them, acting as stress balls as she finds an answer.

Her mind also goes back to a couple hours ago, consumed by the view of you riding on her fingers, moaning and yelping with every thrust, the feeling of your slick gliding over her fingers, your walls stretch with every thrust…

“Mmm… we’ll see.”

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x y/n #modern mizu #modern mizu smut #modern mizu x reader #mizu x reader smut #mizu x you smut #smut #bini goes crazy and is lowk delirious when she wrote this

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kedsandtubesocks · 5 months ago

Text

Prisonic Fairytale

Pyramid Head!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: You’re looking for someone… what you find here in the fog instead has you staring into the abyss - and you discover it stares back (& wears the face of someone terrifyingly handsome)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. dark themes. Silent Hill AU blended with TLOU canon (major spoilers for TLOU2), monsterfucking, distorted reality, limbo world & dreamlike states, sex pollen, dubcon, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, feelings & themes of dread/terror/hopelessness, angst, monstrous!Joel, moments of violence, death mentions, blood imagery, protective!Joel, possessive!Joel, Joel lifts reader multiple times with scary monster strength, scary guard dog Joel vibes, ambiguous happy ending (?)

word count: 5.7k

a/n: please be aware of the warnings - this fic I know won’t be everyone’s cup of tea & I kindly ask if it isn’t please just scroll away… if you haven’t played Silent Hill or don’t even know what it is know this was written for anyone to jump in & read! Big thank you @pedgito for beta reading ily forever, and to you, if you’re reading this know i truly appreciate it & thank you too ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

This town, this possible pocket of a morbid nightmare, holds a plethora of ghastly creatures that stalk your very soul. Contorted bodies on the floor, lying fiends crawling as if straight from a hellish pit, all chase after you. Twitching infected, now distorted demons, also plague the streets.

But the monster enclosed in the large metal pyramid shaped device, who drags a sword the size of a small tree, terrifies you most of all.

You’ve seen the pyramid headed creature lurking through the thicket of the town, unwavering in his journey, almost even patrolling at times.

The body appears like that of a man. Broad shoulders sturdy, aged with thick veiny arms effortlessly pulling along the terrifying blade.

You think of the woman you met in the cemetery and what she said: “There’s something… wrong with that town.”

You fully understand now.

In a world surviving after its destruction, you never thought you’d see another form of hell. Yet an even more sinister darkness festers within every inch of this town waiting to strike. There is no peace.

Because when you open your eyes after dozing off on the crusty couch in the home you've been taking refuge in…

You discover the pyramid headed beast now looms above you.

His form towers imposing and striking, a monster conjured from a child’s nightmare now casting his shadow over you.

You didn’t even hear this hulking behemoth walk into the house.

The time spent here continues making your mind melt.

The only refuge you’ve found came in this abandoned home along the outskirts of town.

Which is now not so safe anymore.

Communication with Maria, your late mother’s oldest friend, has gone dead silent. You feel foolish not leaving with her, but now…

The searching, the endless days, the long walks, all have brought you here. Though you can’t even fully describe where here is.

You’ve seen doomed abandoned cities, but nothing like this. The buildings stand vacant, paint chipping away like decayed remnants of a world gone. Crusted crimson coats every inch of this place as if no one but angels tread here. Or possibly ghosts, or demons.

Thick fog blankets the town like the personified angel of death, blurring your sense of direction and casting you into an abyss of dread.

The town becomes an endless maze stretching on and on. You haven’t found another person for what feels like weeks. Only whispers and chills of dread like eyes watch from the shadows. The creatures and infected prey on you, maws open wide.

Now you stare up at their god, the most terrifying beast in this macabre world.

Stunned, petrified, barely even able to breathe, you stare at the pyramid monster so frightened you can't cry in terror, numb to the horrors.

But that’s when you see it. Black ink spilling against the creature’s side.

He’s injured.

Even injured you don’t doubt he can swing his sword and attack you within seconds.

Demonic screeches suddenly howl into the air breaking this tense moment. Your eyes, panicked, dart to the kitchen. The open back door gives you a clear shot to the backyard.

Monsters, macabre and bloody, claw towards your distorted sanctuary through the decayed wooden fence of the porch.

Adrenaline, instinctive primal fear, possesses you and you bolt off the couch.

You move, grabbing your weapon, a discarded pipe and start swinging. You ward off as many of the creatures as you can.

That’s when you realize the pyramid head beast hasn’t chased after you. So you continue swatting away the monsters long enough until you can barricade the opening shut with discarded lawn chairs.

Heading back inside, there, the pyramid monster waits.

In this barbaric wasteland, it unnerves you seeing this creature simply standing in the middle of the dimly lit living room. You’re grateful this home had matches and candles that brought some illumination.

It’s just you and the metal monster now.

Dark liquid, rusted ink like blood, spills down his arms and across his body.

The monstrosity does bleed.

It feels like a standoff, you staring at this tremendous wounded beast.

Through the rusted metal you hear it - heaved breathes, heavy wheezing.

This creature is wounded and hurting.

Too many thoughts buzz rapid and angry in your brain. You’re worried this monster man at any minute will chase and attack you. He already blocks your exit out the front door, possibly dooming you.

But some sort of scabbing human pity wells in you. If you were this injured and alone, you pray someone would spare you, help and save you with a grace filled hand of salvation.

So viewing this beast like a cornered animal, you slowly walk back into the kitchen. You grab a pack of kitchen towels, old and covered in cobwebs, but still the most you could manage as wrappings.

Back in the living room, you cautiously place the items on the couch near the pyramid head man.

He doesn’t move.

Keeping your focus on him and tiptoeing within the edges of terror, you head back to the kitchen. If he does decide to attack you can at least try running out the back door. It might be swifter than trying to dodge his great sword.

Patiently, you sit waiting, too stunned to sleep.

It’s simply you and the pyramid headed monster. He never once enters your space.

You don’t even know how much time has passed or if any time has passed at all.

Daybreak soon leaks into the kitchen. The sunlight hitting your face wakes you, electrifying your heart.

You fell asleep.

Rapidly you rush into the living room.

He’s gone. The creature is gone.

That’s when you notice the wide open porch door, the source of the light that woke you. Hesitantly you peer outside.

The bulking monster towers on the porch, faintly statuesque. His back is back to you. His rusting metal sword stands at the ready.

The pyramid headed creature turns to face you.

You feel cornered, a small prey within the eyes of a demonic god waiting to feel its wrath. The rusted pyramid head simply stands still.

The wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but his dark ink like blood stains his clothing.

The creature picks up the great dreaded sword. Instantly your body coils like a rabid ready to spring and run for the door…

Until the pyramid head moves and walks away.

The sight stuns you. You even wait expecting him to return.

He doesn’t.

The rush of emotions barrels into your body, causing you to hold onto the banister of the porch.

Three things bounce rabidly in your mind.

First, the pyramid head creature didn’t kill you, didn’t even once attack you even while you slept.

Second, it might possibly be the lack of human contact or the absence of cohesive reality in this town, but if you didn’t know better…it looked like the beast stood on the porch keeping watch.

And third -

The pyramid head man wore a broken watch.

Strangely enough, that thought sticks with you most of all.

—

Fear shakes your hands while you shake open door after door trying to find sanctuary. Night approaches. You’ve learned night unleashes the worst of this town, a catalytic shift. Now an unforgiving storm with thick wailing winds threatens to blow you away. You knew you wandered too far again to head back to your makeshift home.

You have to find shelter.

The mist thickens, a sinister soup. The scratching of claws, the clicking of infected, seem to come from all around. You’re on the verge of tears trying another door.

Eventually you find sanctuary in the bar.

With the storm raging outside this will be your rest stop for the night. You begin scavenging around.

Various notes, journal scraps, even receipts, scatter across the town like fallen leaves among the debris. You’ve been gathering them curious to what they entail.

The crunched up book entries become vital fast when you discover many hold information about the creatures residing in this molding disaster.

Here you find one with a simple pyramid drawing on it etched out in dried blood.

Below the drawing is a note. The scribble handwriting paints the pyramid head monster as a hunter, unstoppable in his rampage and the hand of destruction itself.

“Born from the most human yet selfish desires that ravages a soul. It brings him to the edge of losing his humanity. Or maybe it is because he cares too much that this darkness consumed him…whatever it is, that is what created this creature. This once man, who stole the candidate is”

Blood stains the rest of the journal scrap, like the town refuses to let you know the name of this creature.

You pray you don’t run into the pyramid head again.

Tired and not wanting to sleep on the disgusting floor, you pull up a seat at the bar top folding your arms to rest upon them.

The wind howls. Muffled creaks of the creatures still wandering around are unsettling. But your eyes finally close all the same.

You swear you now hear the soft tunes of an old country song, and someone whispering your name.

Delicate fingers, warm and callous, brush against your forehead. Wearily you open your eyes.

The bar has been transformed. Instead of the boarded up abandoned shell of a building, it’s incredibly cozy. Lights are strung up. Gentle music floats all around.

“Y’wanna drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is smooth, accented and twanged beautifully. It feels like it’s been so long since you even spoke to another person much less heard one.

Scrambling up, you discover the voice comes from a man behind the bar.

There stands the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And yet what sadness clouds around him. An aged rugged grace paints him like some country romance love interest. Brown eyes as dark as earthen caverns beg you to get lost in.

The bar is beautiful, and he’s beautiful.

“You’ve been fightin hard.” He says, pouring out a drink for you.

You’re stunned, can’t process what’s even happening.

“Where are we?” You ask stunned.

“A museum,” he dully replies, but you can tell he’s joking.

The sip of the drink tastes heavenly, warms you up and settles you down.

“Ya seem tired.” He adds, and you exhale feeling the weight of this world seep into your bones.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently.

So you spill your heart to him. How Maria, the closest person you’ve had left to family, vanished into the wind. How you don’t know what’s even going on anymore.

“And now I’m here.” You sigh.

“Maybe you’re here for a reason.” The bartender suggests. “This town…it knows more than we realize.”

You don’t know how to reply. So all you can do is take a quiet sip.

A quiet thump comes, and you glance up. The man behind the bar with darts in his hand now tries throwing them at the target across the wall.

The second dart he throws barely lands on the bullseye.

“Wow, you kinda suck.” You snort.

He scoffs looking at you. “Think you’d be any better?”

So that’s how you end up behind the bar now, trying to throw darts in competition with this beautiful older man. He smirks at how pissed you get seeing one of your darts just miss the target.

A vague familiarity swirls around this man, as if something at the back of your mind claws to get out.

You dream of him and this bar often, like your mind slips into this space to escape the horrors clamoring for your flesh.

Your favorite handsome bartender refuses to give you his name, no matter how many times you’ve tried weaseling it out of him.

“My name’s not important.” He tells you, and it only draws a cold ache in your chest.

Then, the nightmares of this town squash your peaceful dreams.

The decayed buildings wither away more and more into desolation the further you travel into the town.

Butterflied fungal growths sprout over certain buildings, crawling over the cracks and branching over the surface of anything they touch. You were worried they too carried the infection.

“Don’t touch fungus shit.” A note written on an old receipt had warned you about the vines and flora of this town.

But it’s getting hard heeding that warning. The monsters rage more bloodthirsty, ruthless and violent in their attacks.

The apartments you’re running through are hard to navigate. Walls crumble and the dark corridors make it difficult to see which way is which. You’re reminded of a twisted diabolical version of wonderland.

Turning a corner, one of the creatures emerges from the darkness screeching and swinging at you. Scrambling away you collide hard against the wall and a puff of dust clogs your senses.

You try not inhaling and swing your metal pipe until it makes contact, stopping the attack.

But what had you run into?

Your heart drops seeing one of the vines cracked open and the faint dust like spores dancing in the air.

Panic rages in your chest.

You flee, fast as you can, running through familiar spaces until you’re out of the apartment hallway. You need to get back to the safe house you’ve been hiding in.

But the wind outside whips feral, screaming with a blustering force that you can barely step outside.

Then your hands start shaking and suddenly heat floods over your body.

The spores, you realize, unleashed a sudden sickness because it feels like you got hit with a sudden fever. Dread spreads in you. You know these aren’t the typical symptoms of the cordyceps infection, but you can’t risk it.

So you wait inside the apartment complex’s entrance office.

No sensation of twitching.

Instead, your mouth dries out and a slickness pools between your legs.

Shit.

What kind of reaction did these vines cause?

Your body drifts between a sensation of being weighed down by an anchor to almost floating through the air until you stumble down onto the floor.

The clothes you wear now scratch your skin, and your mind slowly fogs up more. So you slip out of your pants.

You’re aware that you’re on the floor of the abandoned receptionist office and hope this will provide you enough cover as your fingers dip into your soaking core.

The orgasmic release clumsily comes, but it’s like unleashing a dam.

Your body twitches wishing for more. Unsatisfied, hungry, everything feels empty.

Please, your mind whispers out, please someone… help.

Slipping your fingers inside, the loud wet squelch of your arousal makes your cheeks burn. It’s almost sacrilegious hearing this debauched erotic sound among such a decayed morbid wasteland.

You’re lost in the sensation, trying to fight through this heat. Your eyes even haze over as the pleasure bubbles more.

Aloud clang collides against the door, snapping your attention forward. Towering above you again is the pyramid head man.

You don’t even scream. It gets logged in your throat instead transforming into a twisted moan.

In this small space, the metal covered demon looms larger than ever. The pyramid prisoned monster stays focused solely on you.

Slowly, he lumbers closer. You can’t even find the strength to move, scramble with some dignity and leave. If anything your legs move like jello shifting as you take in the sight of his strong thick arms, his broad shoulders.

You wonder what he looks like under the helm.

A low rumble vibrates through the room. Wearily your eyes drift down and spot the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

“Please.” The word croaks out of you before you can stop it. You don’t know if this will even help, or if this is even real.

Quickly he crouches down and large firm hands grasp your legs, dragging you across the floor. The movement makes your body twitch, and your eyes shut bracing for pain.

Instead you're gingerly placed on the edge of a table in the receptionist room.

Hesitantly your eyes open. All you see is rusted archaic metal. A sound rips into the air, the tearing of clothes, your underwear specifically. Your core feels colder, yet the cool breeze melts into unbearable flames as the air hits your bare skin.

Gentle fingers twitch moving across your thighs and you moan, almost want to sob. How long has it been since someone’s last touched you? And so reverently?

The low rumbling sound rattles all around you, mixing with your own moans. Everything heightens when his fingers slip inside you.

Thick, his fingers are so damn thick making your hips fidget to feel more of him.

This creature, this monster that’s ripped apart bodies and bathed itself in blood, now fully devotes itself to your pleasure. You feel drunk on that knowledge.

But your release runs away further from you now, hiding just out of reach making you whine frustrated and almost feral.

More, more, you need more.

“Inside.” You manage to croak to the beast. “Need more…inside.”

It’s as if this nightmare world has slipped under your skin, becoming a part of your bloodstream allowing you to transmute the terror into terrible pleasure.

The twitch of the monster’s large cock drags across your bare thighs. The sensation jolts you awake, aware and hyper focused. His grimey blood crusted hands rapidly grab onto your soft hips. You don’t even care if they were inside you, touching you.

Especially when your mind melts as the creature slips inside.

He’s thick, knocking your breathless. It’s delicious feeling so full that you swear you almost feel him in your ribs. It makes the skin melt off your bones.

The monster relentlessly pounds into you, shaking the table unabashedly loud mixing with your delirious moans.

Your legs twist around his strong waist, locking him into you tighter. The pyramid headed beast rumbles louder in this closer position. More distorted groans mix with yours as his hands run up your body, tracing every inch of you.

You should be frightened. This creature sent from hell has you at its mercy. But instead the sensations flooding your body make you’re hungrier for him.

“More, more.” You whine loud and unrelenting.

And he gives.

Your climax is beautifully fierce. Your screams blend into the white void swallowing you whole. Your legs thrash. Your eyes roll back as your fingers dig into the creature’s cold arms. This, you believe, might be the last taste of heaven you’ll ever find in this hell pit.

Exhaustion crashed in immediately. You feel like a ragdoll on the table while this monster continues thrusting into you sloppy and messy, broken growls distorting your mind.

Teetering between bliss and dreams, your hands move up, slowly trade up to the rusting metal.

Tenderly, you wonder what would be like if you could free this creature -

Your hands tracing across the rusting metal containing this pyramid headed monster does something to him. He roars, distorted and hellish, and suddenly spills into you.

You don’t even care he came inside. You thought you had been stated before, now it’s like floating into a new realm of pleasure. You moan now in tandem with him.

Full, you’ve never felt this full. A thick hand affectionate and soft rest against your lower belly. You think it almost aches of a revenant tenderness.

But you’re barely awake now, barely process what’s going on. All you sense are arms cradling you while you fade in and out.

Then you wake up wondering if it was all a dream.

Because instead of the corroded apartment complex you were in, you’re resting back in bed of the home you’ve been staying at.

Did that monster carry you back all the way here?

You don’t know. For a moment you don’t even know if that fuck in the apartments was real, until you stand up and the ache that rips across your body says otherwise.

So you stay resting in this hollow soul of a home. After gaining some rest you start snooping around.

There’s so many photos of a bright young girl with warm sparkling intelligent eyes. Her playing soccer, her roofing showing off her school achievements. She's with two other men.

One is a handsome younger man, a relative from how easy you can see the similarities in their warm smiles.

The other man in any photo… his face is missing.

Either scratched out or simply ripped from the photo.

You heartaches thinking of this family preserved here in the grief of it all, frozen after the world ended and now in this pocket of macabre.

You fall back asleep in the large main bedroom you first woke up in. The faintest hints of pine and sandalwood strangely still cling in the sheets.

It pulls you into the softest dream.

This time you dream of this home you're in now full alive, warm and inviting.

A man stands at the kitchen, his sturdy beautifully broad back to you, dressed in that familiar green plaid. He catches your presence, hears your footsteps and turns.

In the soft morning light, he’s painted ethereal. A rugged whisper of a man out of reach yet so close. Then as a gentle grin tugs his lips, you feel like you already do know him.

You and him settle into a soft morning, simply preparing breakfast. Then thick strong arms slide around you from behind, and the smell of pine and sandalwood washes over you.

Your bartender hums a deep sigh while burying his face against your shoulder.

“Wanna taste ya. Can I taste y’honey?” He mutters letting his words roll out a soft seductive purr.

Something firm already pokes against you and when he grinds into you, everything in you molds into him.

Kissing this man, finally tasting his lips clashing into you, is akin to unleashing a great beast, a creature laying dormant that now consumes unrelenting.

His teeth nip and dig at your skin, trying to devour you whole. But it’s with a fierce devotion that almost brings tears to your eyes when he kisses you again.

Then he says your name…

His voice is like a beautiful country twang wrapped in the delicacy of a moth’s wing. The tenderness of his fingers running across your face, holding you in his grasp - it’s drenched in the deepest affection you’ve ever experienced.

He tastes of something sweet, a promise of home.

And then he fucks you wild from behind pressed up against the counter.

His mouth is again all over your neck, biting licking any inch of you he can.

“God damn baby,” he moans with a slurp as he sucks on your skin. “Wanted this, wanted to taste ya for so long. Was losin’ my mind before.”

Before?

Even among the delicious haze that catches you off guard slightly.

But then all worry drifts away when his fingers slide down to your clit.

“You’re m’fucking baby, yeah? All fucking mine?” He growls and the rumble sounds familiar, like a creature you’ve heard prowling in the dark.

“Yes.” You sob, nodding best as you can.

The way he pounds into you, carves a new universe into you. You feel like you’re completely tied to him. Something inside you whispers maybe you always have been.

His hand curls around your throat, possessive but tender.

It’s wonderful for a dream.

But dreams here don’t last long. You realize that now.

After you finish, and after he spills into you, he pulls himself away from leaving you empty and stunned.

There’s a composed wilderness clouding his eyes. He moves to clean you up and it’s quiet, thick with choking tension.

“This town…” his voice cuts clipped as he shakes his head. He sounds worried, strained and panicked. After you and him compose yourselves, he quickly moves to a drawer to pull out a simple pistol.

Determined and unwavering, he loads it then places it in your hand.

You even tear up.

“Next time I see ya I don’t know what’ll happen. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get to ya in time.” He mutters.

Next time?

“Stay safe…” this man whispers, then leans forward to place a sweet kiss against your forehead.

A chittering growl, the static hiss of one of the monsters, echoes outside the window. Fear clutches at your heart overshadowing the warmth.

You scramble to glance outside trying to spot the demon in the mist.

Thankfully the creature doesn’t spot you, only shuffles further down the street, clicking and twisting its body.

Sighing you turn back to the man -

And no one is there.

Now the warm kitchen stands with the corroded wood, matted cobwebs and an empty space. The kitchen stares back desolate and mocking.

Yet a real gun still sits in your hand.

Was this even a dream? Were you awake this entire time?

A hand comes over your mouth to silence the sob and stop the bleeding panic of realizing this distorted reality is possibly infecting you whole.

—

The next dream you have, another man greets you. This man also seems familiar. You’ve seen in the photos, warm eyes and a handsome youthful charming smile.

Brother to your lover, you can’t explain how but those two you just know are brothers.

He’s working the bar now.

“Where’s…” you feel foolish not being able to say the name of the man you long for.

“Out.” The current bartender say with a familiar twang. “He’s… on patrol.”

Those words hang ominous.

“Y’know…a town like this used to be our paradise.” He explains.

You can see remnants of that wherever you go, whispers of peace corrupted and overrun by the darkness.

“But this town… it knows.” He adds.

You’re reminded of a journal scrap you came across in the main part of town.

“The town will read your heart, manifest the darkness into willpower… but it will come with a tax.”

You even read that outloud to this man. His face darkens.

“Yeah, shit that’s exactly it.” He coughs.

Then his eyes search yours.

“You’re… you know you can move on.” There’s an ache wavering in his voice that rips your heart open.

You shake your head.

You almost feel guilty. You came here looking for Maria and now chase after a ghost. But, it feels as if you’re looking for a multitude of them now. Like this one ghost will unlock them all.

“Tell me about him, about your brother.” You ask.

The handsome younger man barks a laugh.

“Stubborn as a god damn mule. Prideful at times. But… maybe the best damn man I’ve ever known.” The fondness gleams ever true in his words, brotherly love unending.

“Y’know, his birthday…it was on-”

“Outbreak day.” You finish before you even process the words.

You inhale sharp.

His birthday…

Yes. You remember. That’s right, he told you his birthday was the day the world ended.

“Love and grief are funny fuckin’ things. Might even be brothers at times.” The younger brother comments, and your throat feels dry.

You need to leave. Your skin crawls unbearable now.

Forcing yourself awake, you cough among the stale air of the hospital. The dust stings your lungs.

Tucking this dream into the corner of your heart, you wake up back to your journey.

So many bodies litter the hospital. So many bullets and abandoned guns are scatter among the floors. The place is crawling with more monsters running amuck here.

Rushing down a hallway, you stumble down the stairs. Exhaustion outweighs your adrenaline. Eventually you end up back down at the lower level parking garage of the hospital.

At least you can try to heading back home.

Then something scrapes against the concrete.

“You.” A distorted voice growls demonic. Behind you is another monster, this one sounds like a woman and you can see distinct features, echoes of this woman, among the monstrous.

“This is what he did to us.” The creature screeches at you with angered venom.

“It’s all his fault, he brought the end of the world with him, was born to bring destruction. He takes…All he does is take! We had salvation in our hands and he took it from us! He took Ellie!”

Ellie…

The name flashes to your mind bringing a warm familiar laugh of a young girl telling you a bad dad joke, the image of her so close yet still out of reach has you blinking back tears.

Then the monster’s screech rattles the walls, singing of ancient pain that makes your legs weak.

She fights with so much power. There’s only so much hiding and your pistol can do.

Trying to flee from her attacks, you stumble and fall onto the floor.

It’s over. This has to be the end.

“He can’t save you now.” The creature cackles gleeful.

A sob escapes you.

“Joel.”

You whisper the name, feeling it scramble and scratch at your throat. Why it suddenly came to you now, you don’t know. But it feels as if it’s been hiding this entire time, simply waiting for you to call upon it.

Suddenly distorted violent scratching comes, and your body freezes. Something loud collides hard and fast against the metal.

The swing of the terrible executioner’s sword comes first. Then, the rust of metal follows.

The pyramid head creature emerges from the darkness.

He is every bit the destroyer you once feared. Yet now he stands solely between you and the other monster, protecting you.

She screeches loud seeing her new opponent.

The two battle, ferocious beast unchained, and you stare petrified.

That’s when you catch the glimpse of the pyramid head’s arm again.

The watch. The broken watch.

The same watch you’re realizing your bartender wore, the one you know so fondly.

And now that you fully stare at the great sword, you’re reminded of a pocket knife a man you loved once used.

“Joel.” You say again.

The pyramid head turns to you, like a guard dog being called back and waiting for your command.

It’s him underneath it. It really is him…

Everything clicks into place.

The realization unfolds soft, steady and quiet.

This town, the grief but ultimately the love he held turned him into this.

The town knighted him as both executioner and protector.

Within the eternal welded metal, he’s punished to stay locked up from ever tasting true blissful peace. The grief of losing his daughter, of trying to save another, feeling like he’s never been able to protect or bring any goodness into this world only for him to lose it - all layered and sealed itself around him.

Now he’s here…

Here to protect you like he has been this entire time.

Joel with every might swings his sword, powerful and true. He lands hit after hit to the creature roaring unholy, powerful and fierce.

This baptism in his wrath, the comfort in knowing the bloodshed comes because he’s protecting you brings a laugh from your chest.

It’s a laugh freeing and loud. It bounces off the walls, mixes with the gurgles of blood and the ripping of flesh.

Your Joel won’t lose.

The demonic screeches of the woman come to a crescendo and then she falls deadly silent. Before you realize it, a soft hand is against your face. The shadow of the pyramid rusted metal falls over you like the shade of angel wings.

“Joel.” You whisper his name reverent.

Gingerly, like you’re something precious, you’re gathered into his arms. Soft pur rumbles are the last thing you hear before the darkness pulls you under.

You wake up in a med clinic. You can’t tell if this is a dream or not.

“Finally made it… took ya a while.” The voice, gentle and comforting, makes you bolt up from bed.

Maria sits beside you with soft eyes and a kind smile.

“You’re here.” You sob relieved.

“Knew you’d find us.” She nods.

A knock arrives cutting Maria off. Inside steps the familiar younger brother who beams comfortingly.

“Tommy.” You effortlessly greet him, like the name has been with you all along.

“Knew you’d figure it out.” He grins, familiar and sweet.

“Come on.” Maria says with a knowing look. “We should let her rest some more.”

“But wait…” you say and they both pause, turning to you. “What…”

What had happened? What’s really going on? You can even gather your thoughts, put them into words.

Then all that worry dies out when another drawl of a voice pierces the room.

“Alright, leave her alone.”

Joel.

Maria sighs, playfully exhausted. While Tommy turns to you with a wink. They both slide out of the door while Joel instead rushes in. Tommy makes playfully kissing noises. Joel shots him a look before he then quickly moves to the side of your bed.

Your hand finds his immediately.

“You’re here.” You croak and he nods.

“Ain’t leaving you, honey.” It sounds like a promise, ever true. You don’t ever want to leave him now, or here…

“Let’s go home.” You nod.

Without another word Joel gathers you into his arms, kisses the top of your head and steps out of the door.

The fog greets you soft and wispy. A chill runs up your spine from the cold air, but Joel curls you tighter in his arms. All of the monsters and creatures in the streets now scurry away in fear.

This man… the memories flutter in hazy now.

There was a time where you left looking for Maria and ran into a man with that special headstrong girl. A love grew for the two of them and you ending up in the safety of a town… a heaven on earth. You made a home with that man. Watched that girl grow up.

But then that man you loved died, and so did your world.

Then you woke up here at the edge of this town in the graveyard… Did the grief send you here?

You don’t even know anymore. Especially because all of that seems like another world now.

You’re here now. That’s what matters.

“Joel, you deserve love,” you whisper into his chest. “You did what your heart told you…that’s why I’m here. I’ll remind you everyday that you’re a good man. I’m your baby, remember?”

Your hand reaches up to softly stroke the metal pyramid encasing. He rumbles soft, familiar, the most comforting sound.

You think of how lucky you are to find love in the devil’s arms and discover peace within his hell.

In the arms of your man, your monster, you happily enter the fog embracing it all around.

#I know this one is a strange (& extra spooky dark) but I’m proud of how this turned out #and I seriously can’t thank you enough if you read this!!!#pyramid head!joel #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller fanfic #dark content tw #Joel 🤎

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starling0rock · 7 months ago

Text

M'SORRY.

NSFW

SUMMARY: You were babysitting Sarah for Joel, as usually, but he came home late and it started to storm. He asked you to stay for dinner by then spilled hot tea on you, so to make it up he uses his mouth and fingers 👄🙏

WARNINGS: Smutt, age gap (not described, but I imagine 20s/40s) cunilingus, fingering, praising, squirting, (idk if this is a warning but reader get tea spilled on her thigh and it burns a bit)

WORD COUNT: 1.7 k

A/N: sweet peas, this is my first one shot, fist Smutt, first time using Tumblr, first everything, k? Please request (if you're able, cuz idk how this singly dangly app works, if you can't do it, just write in the comments🙏🙏) I tried my very best, so enjoy, my lil Joel Miller fuckers💋

Requests that I take:

Pascal and Joel

Sebastian and Bucky

James Hetfield

David Bowie

David Tennant

Johnny Depp

It was late evening, around 11. Mr. Miller still wasn't home so you put Sarah to bed and headed to the kitchen to do some studies. You opened your books and papers, spreading them on the table. The room smelled nice with some coffee, that you made earlier today and some candles that were usually lit for atmosphere. You didn't quite catch the time, that was going fast as you were reading, trying to memories as much as you can, so it started raining and storming outside. You heard as door to the house softly opened with slight creak, and keys being hung on the wall, you turned around to see Mr. Miller that was taking off his boots and hanging a black, damp coat.

"Good evening, Mr. Miller."

"Oh, hey, darling, didn't know you were still here." He said with slightly raspy and quite deep voice.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave Sarah alone in the house, in case anything happened. But I'm heading home now." You, said as you started to pack your books and papers, and other needed stuff in the backpack.

"Dont worry 'bout it. It's raining, so you can stay, i'll make some dinner, if you don't mind." He offered kindly, as he looked at you with his soft, brown eyes. His arm was on his hip, while he leaned on the counter.

"Mr. Miller, you're being too kind.. it's late, and im sure you would rather go and rest." You answered him politely.

"Now-now, no more 'Mr. Miller' s'just Joel. And I don't mind cooking for a pretty thing, like you." He smiled, his voice was filled with cockiness and teasing.

"Fine, as you say.. Joel." You answered, giving up and chuckling faintly. "What do you have in mind for a dinner?"

"Well.. maybe some cinnamon toasts with tea? How d'ya feel 'bout that, hm?" He asked, preparing a kettle for some tea.

"I don't mind, if anything, I like green tea, two spoons of sugar." You smiled to him.

"Green tea it is." He smiled back and looked at you over his shoulder, then looking back to the kettle. He prepared two mugs, by putting two bags of green tea in each and adding some sugar. When the kettle made sound, telling him the water is boiled, he took it and poured some hot water in the mugs. He turned his body to you, waiting for the tea to be ready.

"How's your day? Was Sarah behaving?" He asked, to fill the silence.

"It was good, thanks. Sarah is really sweet girl, I never have problems with her, today wasn't exception." You confessed

"Oh yeah, she really is, isn't she. She talks a lot about you, seems she really loves you." Joel declared with sweet smile. He looked back at the mugs and added. "Ah, tea is ready."

The man gently took one mug for you, but as soon as he got closer, he slipped on one of Sarahs color pencils and accidentally spilled the hot substance on you. Directly on your lap and abdomen.

"Oh, Ow-Ow-Ow!" You jumped from your seat and the mug broke beneath.

"Shit, darling.. oh are you okay? Be careful, aight? Shh.." He gently wrapped one arm around you, to walk you away from shuttered mug.

"God, I'm really sorry.. let's check if there any burn, okay? M'gonna get you to the couch." He said and led you to the couch, making you to sit.

"I'm so sorry.. does it hurt badly?" He murmured as he kneeled between your legs*

"It's okay.. burns a little." You stated and looked at him. You pulled the wet cloth from your legs, and the one that was on your abdomen.

"Oh, man.. let me check, okay? Just pull your pants down." You blushed at his words, some pervy images flooded your mind, but you tried not to show it, he was righteous man, after all, so you did as he said, slightly moving you hips up, and pulling your sweatpants down. The red stain was clearly visible on your thigh, left from hot liquid, he gently touched it with his finger and you squirmed.

"Poor thing, I'm so sorry.. it'll be alright soon enough, there is nothing serious, alright?" He looked at you, noticing your flushed face. He smirked to himself at such cute sight of you, but didn't moved his hand from your thigh for an inch.

"Mhm." You purred, you couldn't help but notice how strong his arms were and how veiny they are, his fingers were fat and perfect, wondering how full they would make you feel. You noticed him smirking and tried to hide your eyes.

"What's up with that red face, hmm? Is someone enjoying it a little too much?" He teased and moved his hand slightly higher.

"S'nothing." You mumbled, and blushed even more. He looked to the ground.

"Tsk tsk tsk.." Joel chuckled faintly at your reaction.

"Want me to stop, then?" He moved his hand away from your sweet place.

"Mh-mh.." You whined a lil as his hand moved away from the place you wanted it to be.

"Want me to make it up to you, maybe?" He purred leaning his face slightly between your thighs.

"Mhm.." you murmured looking him in the eyes.

"Nah, darling, use your words." He teased even more as his hands were now sliding up and down, and you could feel how calloused they are, and hot on your skin"

"I do.." Words finally came out of your throat. You were shy and embarrassed by such turn in events, but he clearly wasn't. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed seeing you at his mercy.

"Oh baby... Such a poor thing, aren't ya? Mr. Miller spilled hot tea on you, didn't he?etc him make it up to you." He murmured against the sling of your reddened thigh pressing soft kiss to it.

"Bad, bad Mr. Miller." The kisses on your leg grew more open, wet and hungry, your soft gasps only fed his desire. He slowly made his way to your mound. His nose met with the hem of your panties and he slipped the finger under the lacy piece of underwear, teasing soft skin with little hair on it. After you made grumpy noise, he pressed his nose right into your clothed clit, drawing the sweetest moan from you, as his mouth was open on your clothed entrance. He pressed his tounge onto the damp clothing, feeling how you ached and pulsated against it, how much you wanted to feel it inside. Who he was to decline, after such violent event. He quickly pulled your panties aside and instantly covered exposed hole with his warm mouth. You couldnt help, but moan at such action, and burrow your fingers in his, slightly curled, hair.

"Mr. Miller.. please." You begged, and so he pushed his tounge right inside you, tasting you and humming with pleasure. You thighsalmost clenched around his neck and fingers tugged on his curls. He pulled his tounge out only to lick it's way up between your lips, collecting all of your sweet nectar, not wanting any of it to go to waste.

"Such a good girl for me, being all whiny and wet. I bet many boys wanna taste it so bad.. but I'm the only one who did, yeah?" He asked, continuing his maddening sucking on your aching clit. His hand grabbed your thighs, but being careful around the hurt one.

"Y-yeah.." you purr weakly, feeling yourself lost in the ocean of pleasure.

"She is so wet for me, god... I can't help myself." Joel confessed and burried his head deeper into you, one of his hands moves lower to his big, aching bulge, the evidence of his excitement. He palmed himself as he never stopped sucking and feasting on you, like hungry lion that finally find something to eat.

"Fuck, baby...yer s'delicious.." He moaned right into you, his free hand thrust one of his finger inside your core massaging on your walls lightly, while his other hand rubbed himself violently. You couldn't help but moan at his action and feel worshiped, like a goddess.

"J-..Joel..ngah!.." his name slipped from your lips, sending shivers down his spine.

"M'close!" You stated, choking on your words. In response he quickened his movements and fucked you with his fingers, as he wanted the last bits of you, making sure he doesn't have to share with anyone. Just the moment your walls clenched around his fingers, and your fingers grabbed his hair tightly, making sure he doesn't stop, he started to lead you to the complete edge with his fat fdigits hitting all the right spots inside you, curling and moving. When he felt you cumming he instantly removed his fingers, so he could capture more with his mouth, but to his surprise, your legs started to shake vigorously and you squirted all over his face and chest, he was more than happy that it was him, who made you feel like this so he instantly captured your sensetive lips with his and drew all the sweet liquid into his mouth.

"M'sorry.. m'messy" you mumbled closing your eyes with your hand.

"My baby... So sweet for me... You're not messy, nothing to be sorry about." Joel reassured and kissed your puffy vaginal lips again, making out with them sweetly, as you responded with sweet moans. Only when he had enough he moved the cloth of your panties back to its place.

"Such a beautiful girl... Am I forgiven though?.. for spilling the tea on you?" He asked with teasing smirk, leaning his head on your thigh.

"Mhm.. you are.." you smiled to him and he moved away, only to hug you. He gently wiped his mouth with his sleeve and moved you to his lap. He took off your wet t-shirt from tea and his, from your juices, then he pulled you into embrace.

"I'm gonna need to find you some dry clothes.. but not now, 'k?" He ran his hand through your hair, as you burried your face in his neck.

"Mkay.." you responded quietly and snuggled closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I REALLY DID MY BEST, M SORREY🙏😭

#pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smutty smut smut #i need Pedro badly #Pedro pascal X you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #joel miller #fuck me Mr Miller

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