#usually i would just. not say anything about the inspiration and leave it as a little easter egg

[bluehexagone]

Realism is fun till it isn’t and I realize I’ve already committed too far and can’t just scrap it but I know it will take me too long so here are some sacrifices you may see finished later on

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[neonovember]

bucky barnes as a husband headcanon!

heavily inspired by my steve headcanons here, I wanna try my hand at writing more of james. he is the epitome of devotion, he falls first and falls hard.

this kind of takes part in an alternative au (think avengers are still together but its post the falcon and the winter soldier)

he is canonically good at cunnilingus

you think I’m joking? This man divulges into a rabid animal the second he gets close to your thighs. He is on his knees whilst your pressed up against the counter rubbing his face against your clothed crotch moaning and grinding in the air

he says if he could have gotten a taste of you while he was the winter soldier it would've required his brain and reversed the brainwashing

’to be alone with you’ - hozier is bucky’s song

like steve, he feels the isolation and ghost-like feeling of being lost in time. Brooklyn doesn't feel like home anymore, he constantly reaches for you, even in sleep because you are the thing he now belongs to.

you can never get used to how intense bucky just..stares at you. Every single moment of the day you'll just catch him watching you silently not saying a word. It wasn't creepy, no it had this protective almost darkness to it that was all consuming. At one of Tony’s parties, he’s watching you across the room with a glass in his hand or mysterious and shit. (probably thinking about when is a polite time to leave)

which is never because bucky just drags you both out of every gathering. Every goodbye is an Irish one

man bun bucky. That’s it.

lets you cut his hair when it gets to the point of covering his eyes. Sometimes his stubble too, thumb circling and grazes your thigh as you lean over him with a scalpel.

most of the team are still gobsmacked at how bucky justs..trusts you. Whether it be with a shaving, or jumping out of a corner. If any of the team tried to pull a knife on bucky he would probably (not) accidentally break their jaw

after missions all the Avengers know he’ll be offline for at least a couple days to be with you. What they don’t discuss is half of those days are fucking you bruised. He gets all pent up and irritated when he isn’t around you, it’s like you recalibrate his mood back to baseline regular bucky when he can finally sink into you.

doll, darlin’, honey

if you think steve is possessive…just exponentiate that to the power of 10 and you have husband bucky. Are we forgetting this man used to be the winter soldier? he's cute and adorable but also can be fucking horrifying. I’m talking blank face breaking a mans jaw cause he looked at you funny

very casual in his superhuman abilities to protect you. 

silky dulcet notes of etta james, the album sam had gifted you both playing as you cut up some root vegetables. It’s summer and the night is long and warm, and you and bucky are humming as you prepare dinner. You're twirling your hips, Bucky is leaning against the countertop, half trussing the chicken and the other watching you when he suddenly stops. You don't notice it at first, until he cocks his head to the side, kind of blinks and moves to turn the saucepan on low. You turn to him, and he grabs for one of the kitchen knives on the bench before reaching for you.

"there's someone in the backyard"

all nonchalant, like it had been a burrowing animal stuck under the floorboards. he motions for you to continue, turns up the record player a bit and walks into the backyard without a sound.

this man is touch starved, of course he is cock warming after. each and every time.

one of the things bucky loved about you is at ease he felt, he could talk to you and spill everything out in a way he never could with dr raynor or even steve.

there was a bit of distance from him when he first met you, he was awestruck, even more silent than he usually was. Just stared at you longingly, standing off to the side. he didn’t think he could be anything but feared, it genuinely got to the point where you thought he didn't like you or that you had done something wrong. when steve had told him this, he nearly died. no, i'd like to think he's heart stopped for a couple seconds seriously. than got up from fainting, took you aside, and kissed you against the back of sarah's backyard door on the fourth of july.

stations a few target practice posts in your backyard. teaches you how to shoot, chest pressed up against your back as he helps move your body in the right position. always make sure you know where the weapons are in the house

singing to records whilst he's cleaning said weapons at the table

takes you to all the places still standing he remembers in Brooklyn, you hold his hand and let him rest against your shoulder when the past gets caught in his throat.

Steve finds a place in the city with actual good music, where people actually dance, and it becomes your spot every Friday.

yeah, one thing bucky remembers would be his muscle memory of the dance floor, he’s goooood. Teaches you everything he knows in your kitchen of course, always ends up with you making out on top of each other though

dry humping like teenagers, bucky with his low hanging jeans, not wearing boxes and making a mess just from the taste of your mouth

actually, sometimes breaks down in tears when he realises you’re his wife. Like forever.

always thinking about you, what you're doing, if you've eaten. even if hes in the middle of recon you will be in the back of his mind.

leans over and loops his dog tags around your neck whenever he leaves for missions. kisses your eyelids when your sleeping and the fight calls him

the second time you and bucky visited Wakanda he had Shuri craft the ring to be fused into his vibranium finger..yeah I know.

bucky isn’t the extroverted talking type, but with you he is constantly just yapping..about anything and everything. Following you around the house like a puppy, coming to you for the answers about the new world and questions he always harboured even before the ice

bucky is hilarious, he's already an adonis, but he could laugh you of your pants

can’t bear fighting with you, he never yells. He just kind of goes quiet and takes a walk

you guys live in a house with a huge backyard and a wraparound porch

loves cooking, lets him turn his mind off sometimes and make you something hearty and warm. he has a frilly gingham patterned apron he wears and his curls are wrapped into a bun with your scrunchie. floor always ends up on his cheek, and you always end up on the kitchen bench with his mouth on you

night terrors had him sleeping in a sleeping bag next to the bed, he refused despite your attempts. Sometimes he'd wait till you fell asleep against him and make the heartbreaking quiet separation and sleep on the floor

sometimes likes to take of his arm around the house, especially sleeping. Keeps it near in case though, for you.

he’s thick everywhere…took an hour of foreplay minimum to get you ready for him. You both will never get used to each other, needing to take a moment of hushed gasps and groans when he first sinks in

the wedding was in Sams backyard in Delacroix, just Sam, Sarah, the kids and Yoshi and the team

fairylights wrapped around the spanish moss of hanging trees, soft jazz and hard liquor. Sarah’s seafood boil and a dance floor where bucky spends half the night with you there

dad!bucky on the other hand..now that is a different ballpark. wait no actually, just him when you're both expecting. let's not forgot when he stormed into the tower and broke through the office doors to ask why on earth tony had scheduled him a mission so close to the birth of your baby, tossing him his phone which was now crumbled heap of metal in the shape of his fists....(you were two weeks along)

[readwritealldayallnight]

Learning

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 1k words

warnings/tags: fluff

“Said it would’ve made too much of a mess. Waste o’ his money.” Simon says, slopping another spoonful of pumpkin guts into the large bowl in the middle of the kitchen table. Your usual table cloth has been switched out with an array of this weeks newspaper, the black and white print covered in the sticky remnants of your idea of fun on a Friday before Halloween.

“Not even one?” You attempt to pose the question casually, hoping to disguise the sadness in your tone, concealing the way your heart breaks at the thought of a young Simon Riley having never carved a pumpkin, his father not even allowing him to partake in that simple tradition so many others enjoy.

“S’alright, lovie.” He says, seeing right through you and recognizing the hurt you hold for him, an indication of your longing to only see love and joy in his life. If only you knew that’s everything you give him. “Did watch a mate o’ mine shoot his pellet gun at some pumpkins one year, if that makes you feel any better.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to make you laugh, digging your spoon a little harder into the sides of your own gourd as if it were the one to have wronged you.

“Well then I’m glad I ignored you and got them anyways.” You declare, giving each pumpkin a loving little pat on its side. Simon had told you outside the grocery store, seeing your eyes land on the bright orange displays outside the shop, that they weren’t necessary.

But the both of you knew he would never deny you anything you wanted, and so he ended up carrying the two large pumpkins under each bicep and to the car himself, not letting you lift a finger.

“How’s the inside of yours looking?” You ask him, coming around to his side of the table, affectionately running a hand through the strands of hair at the base of his skull, glancing into the pumpkin he tilts in your direction for you to see. You can feel a shiver go through him at your touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

You’re glad he’s home with you, where he can relax, allow his biggest stresses to be his girlfriend ogling his arms as he carved open the tops of pumpkins and gutted them with efficiency.

“You’d have to tell me, love, but I think that’s as empty as it’s gettin’.” He emphasizes by tapping his spoon on the side of the sphere, listening to the dull, hollow echo it gives.

“Looks perfect. Nice work, Simon.” You tell him, planting a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping back over to your seat, leaving him looking a few shades redder than before. “Know what you’re gonna carve?”

“It’s- it’s just a face, innit?” At your question, Simon finds himself pausing. He might have had a different childhood than most, but he wasn’t daft, he knew what a jack o lantern was supposed to look like. Carved eyes, a wicked grin or large frown, sometimes even a nose in between them both.

He didn’t consider himself to be a crafty person, but he’d been a butcher for crying out loud, he could carve some shapes into a pumpkin until it resembled a face, no problem. So why are you asking him about what he’s going to carve.

“Well yeah, that’s the go to, for sure. A classic.” You reassure him, noticing the slight tension returning to his shoulders. “You can carve a face, my love. Some people just do different, they get creative with it.” Shrugging, you grab the marker you’d set aside, beginning to map out the lines for where you plan on carving your own design. You’re distracted, eyes darting between your sketching and your phone where you’ve got the inspiration photo pulled up for reference.

You don’t notice Simon’s eyes squinting ever so slightly at you before darting to the pumpkin in front of him. ‘Get creative with it’? Is that what you’re doing? Is that what you’re expecting him to do? Hoping he’ll do? He glances over at you again and notices you’ve got a bloody reference photo and everything??

He finds his cheeks beginning to burn for a different reason now, feeling stupid over not realizing you could carve more than the standard jack o lantern faces as a tradition. Obviously, you can carve anything you want into a fuckin’ pumpkin, he just didn’t know, he hasn’t done this before, and now he’s gone from feeling almost confident to worried he’s about to make a fool out of himself over something as childish as this.

“Simon.” You say, always more in tune with him than he realizes. “It’s okay, carve anything you want. I’m excited to see what you make.” You smile warmly at him across the table, a small socked foot going to nudge his ankle as well. “Believe it or not, this is supposed to be fun.”

He scoffs at your joke but doesn’t fight the smile that etches onto his face in return. He accepts your distraction when you ask if you should put on some music in the background, walking towards the record player. As he flips through the stack of vinyls, he thinks about just that, what he could possibly carve into that bloody orange sphere sat on his kitchen table, that would be fun.

Searching through any memories he considers as being ‘fun’, he finds a common factor: you. And there’s one more reoccurring element sewn into the fabric of those treasured memories as well: your laughter.

With that in mind, it’s actually quite easy for Simon to decide on what he’ll do finally. And almost an hour later, after you’ve put your blood, sweat and tears into your own pumpkin carving and deciding that the results ended up being just meh, Simon has decided that he’s undeniably the winner of the evening when he spins his creation around and has you nearly crying with laughter, insisting between wheezed breaths that he’s going to make you pee your pants, only leading to Simon’s own laughter bellowing out.

Not too bad for his first time learning.

~~~~~~~~~~

(The kind of pumpkin I’ve decided Ghost would carve 😂)

[monzabee]

the smallest man who ever lived - cl16

masterlist || part 2 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where you’re thrown into a conundrum when you learn the news of your husband, Charles’, infidelity.

Pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader; carlos sainz x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, cheating, crying, manipulation(?), charles is an absolute asshole (but so is the reader) (but she’s kinda also badass?) (toxic relationship?), even more assholish carlos (gasp), blackmail, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation (literally just pushing someone off but still)

Request: “Hey girl can I request something angsty with Charles? Maybe Charles cheating on Y/N (we’re already famous and have been married to Charles for years) and the fighting, the finding out, his guilt, angst, etc.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you to the anon who requested this because i had the time of my life working on it, and it might be the first fic i wrote in one go for the last six months or so!! also thank you to the getting cheated on playlists i found on spotify and amy dunne for giving me the inspiration to make the reader as toxic as i could. special thanks to @norrisleclercf1 and @percervall who had to listen to me talk about this fic NONSTOP. this is definitely something very different to what i usually write, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

There are moments in life where you feel like a complete and utter idiot. Although it could be for no apparent reason at all, there is a perfectly explainable reason why you feel like that right now, in the middle of your trailer on the set, with your manager and publicist both looking at you like you could explode at any given moment. It took you a good amount of time to wrap your head around the news, the news that wrecked you into a million of pieces which left you as the only person who can put them back together.  

“Let me get this straight,” you start, still trying to wrap your head around the news, “they were photographed leaving the club, and there’s a–?” 

“Sex tape, yes.” Your manager mumbles, earning himself a side-eye from your publicist. “It was so kindly attached to the email.”  

“And it is anonymous?” You ask, earning curt nods from both. “Well,” you manage to get out, pressing your lips together not to let out a sob, or a laugh, both? “That is very ambitious of him.” 

Your publicist shares a concerned look with your manager, then turns to you, “I guess so? How would you want us to handle this? I can buy us some time until these are released to public, but I think getting a statement ready just in case is essential given the fact that both of you are public figues. We can say that you’ll attend marriage councelling–” 

Your loud laugter cuts her off in the middle of her sentence. “And just why would we do that?” 

“I–” She gives you another concerned look as she softens her voice, which is quite uncharacteristic for her, you realise. “How would you want us to approach it then?” 

“I don’t want you to approach it at all.” You voice cuts through the tension, your gaze fixed on her. “I’ll handle it.”  

“But Charles–” She tries to reason, but you cut her off again.  

“Decided to get his dick wet where it certainly didn’t belong, he’s a big boy – he’ll survive.” Fixing her with a final look, you turn to your manager instead. “I don’t want this going to Charles or his team’s ears, that’s what the email said, and we should honour it, no?”  

His expression turns into a smirk, matching the one playing on your lips as he nods in thougt, “Would you like us to do anything else? We can talk with the production if you need a couple of days to… well, recuperate. Greta would understand.” 

“No.” Your answer is final as you shake your head. “She thinks this is an Oscar worthy project, I’m not throwing it away because my husband decided to think with his dick and not his brain. Just call my lawyers and tell them to be on stand by.” 

“Should I also book you tickets to Monaco still?” He asks in a monotone tone. 

“Well of course,” you reply in a sweet voice, widening your eyes for dramatic effect, “it’s a family event.” 

Your publicist eyes the both of you, “Okay,” as she drags the word out, “are you sure you don’t want to take a couple of days off?” 

“Positive. I have an EGOT to win.” Raising the script you have in your hands in the air, you announce, “I have lines I need to go over, is that all?”  

And as they leave your trailer to give you some space to ‘go over your lines’, you let a few tears escape your eyes, promising yourself that you would make Charles feel a thousand worse what he made you feel in the moment. 

It is not surprising or a sudden revelation that Monte Carlo has good weather all year around. But as it happens with the last few weeks following you learning about your husband’s infidelity, all you feel is cold – and no amount of warm weather is enough to make your heart feel warmer again. As you stand at the terrace of Café de Paris, overlooking the cityscape of Monte Carlo, all you can think about is how you just want to get this part of you plan over with as fast as possible.  

“Chérie!” The voice you hear makes a lump perpetually situate itself in the middle of your throat, but you brace yourself for the worst as you turn on your heels to face the person you’re most scared of facing in this whole situation. “Look at you, you look incroyable! You had me scared when you told me you were catching the redeye, and that we just had to talk!” 

“Pascale,” you breathe out as the woman pulls you into her arms with the warmness of any mother would do, and for that brief moment, you feel better than you have in weeks. “It’s so nice to see you again,” giving her the warmest smile you can muster up in the circumstances as you pull back, fixing your gaze at the figure behind her as you nod your head in acknowledgement, “Arthur.” 

“Maman is right,” Arthur says as he opens his arms, “you do look good.”  

“Well, thank you.” You reply as you give him a quick hug, and motion the table as you pull back. “Shall we?” Call it common curtesy, or cowardice, the fact that you don’t directly get to the point. Either way, you talk about what you’ve missed in the couple of months in which you’ve been away filming. You’re not necessarily paying attention, though the endtail of Pascale’s sentence catch your attention. “Excuse me, can you repeat that?” 

“Well, I was just telling how sad I was that Charles doesn’t come home as often this season. Though I understand he’s coming out to see you on set, distance can be so hard even for–” 

“He’s not coming out to see me, Pascale.” You voice is softer, and appears more broken than you would want it to be, but your words convey the message enough. It takes you a couple of moments to organise your thoughts, and Arthur calling out your name, to get you back into the moment. “There’s something I need to talk with the both of you, something I’ve already talked with Lorenzo, but I thought it would be better for you to hear it from me.”  

“Okay?” Arthur mumbles, then gives you a supportive smile, “You can tell us anything. Though don’t tell me I’m about to be an uncle because I don’t think my ego can take it at the–” 

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as you direct your words to the woman sitting across from you. “I’m divorcing your son, and I thought you should hear it from me and not him.”  

It takes a few minutes for both Pascale and Arthur to say something, and it concerns you that you somehow managed to give your mother in law a brain aneurism, but eventually, she manages to get out, “What? How? Why? Are you okay?”  

“I’m… fine.” You reply, albeit it comes off calculated. “I found a couple of weeks ago that he was cheating on me, I’ve came back to give him the papers myself.”  

“He what?” Arthur exclaims, then realises the level of his voice, and lowers it down as he asks, “Are you sure this is not a misunderstanding? The guy has been in love with you for over a decade, he wouldn’t do this.” With a resigning sigh, you find what you’re looking for in your phone and hand it over to Arthur. Who then, upon seeing what you have pulled up, immediately hands it back to you and turns to his mother, “Trust me you don’t want to see it.” 

“I’ve came to tell you the news, and well, to apologise.” You turn to face Pascale again.  

“Apologise?” She repeats, “Why on earth would you apologise to me when my son cheated on you?” 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me ever since we’ve met, both of you.” You acknowledge Arthur with a look, and then focus your attention back on the woman, “Though I will make sure you don’t get caught in the crossfire in any way, I wanted to apologise for what I’m about to put your son through.”  

You honestly don’t know how you manage to act as if everything has been going fine in your life during race day. Given the fact that your husband doesn’t expect you to be at his race due to your rigorous filming schedule, and his family members being willing to hide your existence from him, you have no obstacles in your way to carry out the rest of your plan in motion. Which is exactly why you’re sat in the dark, waiting for your husband to walk through the doors of your apartment overlooking the city. With you seemingly being absent for the weekend, he has no reason to not believe that he is coming to an empty house.  

So, imagine his surprise when he enters his home; with his girlfriend in his arm, no less, and sees his wife sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and a drink in her hand. The look on his face is priceless, and despite all the pain and frustration you’re feeling, it manages to bring you some semblance of joy, knowing that it’s going to hurt him just as much as it hurt you.  

“Ma chérie,” Charles stammers, eye wide as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights, “I – I didn’t know y–you were coming back this weekend.” 

“Well obviously,” you scoff, taking a generous sip from the drink in the glass tumbler in your hand, “otherwise you wouldn’t bring your little girlfriend into my house to fuck her.” You hear a gasp from the scaredy brunette wedging herself closer to your husband’s side, and for the first time you take a good look at her – young, much younger than you, tall, leggy; all the telltale signs that she is exactly your husband’s type. Tilting your head to the side, you rest the glass on the arm of the armchair you’re sitting in, “If you could leave now, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

You hear Charles whisper something in her ear, probably telling her to leave and that he’ll contact her tomorrow, and watch as she gives him a scowl, screeching, “You’re just going to let her throw me out?” 

“Well, considering the fact that this is my house, yes.” You give her a look of pity, watching her face light up with anger.  

“Listen to me, you bitch–” She starts, but your husband quickly cuts her off.  

“Mon cœur!” He exclaims, “S'il te plaît!” 

“Yes, listen to him, like a good little girl,” you egg her on, a smirk widening on your lips as you start swinging the leg resting on your lower one, choosing to focus on your nails instead of your husband trying to soothe his lover. 

You hear her scoff, take a few steps as her heels click on the marble floor of the entrance, “I wouldn’t be so calm if I were you, I’m not someone you want to be on bad terms with, considering the fact that he’s going to leave you for me!” 

“Oh, honey,” you coo, focusing your attention back on her and seeing the look of concern in your husband’s face through the corner of your eye, “and when did he tell you that, like a year ago? Two? Three?” A realisation dawns on her face as the smug expression starts to fade. “Don’t worry, though, you can have him when I’m done with him.” Pushing yourself off the armchair, you down the rest of the drink in the glass before slamming it down onto the glass coffee table. “And not only do I not care if you think I'm a bitch, but I hugely prefer it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call security and get your ass thrown out.”  

You watch as she looks at Charles with indignation, lets out another screeching sound and slams the door behind her as she stomps out of your apartment. Only then you turn your gaze back to your husband, who has the guts to look at you with a worried look on his face. “How long have you known?” Is the first thing he asks you, taking a few steps closer.  

“A couple of weeks, a month, maybe?” You answer him, leaving your place to get to the small bar in the corner of your living room to get another refill of your drink. “There’s a video of the two, it somehow got into my hands, and it has very graphic details of the two of you having sex.” Popping a lemon into your cup, you make your way back to the armchair and sit down, “Are you stupid enough to cheat on me and make a fucking sex tape, Charles?” 

“I-I didn’t mean to–” He tries to plead, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.  

“You didn’t mean to what?” You ask him; your voice soothing, almost understanding, and it does the job of fooling him. “Cheat on me? Fuck another woman in my bed? Break the vows you’ve made?”  

“Ma chérie,” he whispers, “please.” 

“No.” Your voice is colder all of a sudden. “Tell me how long this has been going on for. Was I right? How many years?” 

“It started five years ago,” his voice is soft, somber and he tries to appear as genuine as he can in the situation, you suppose, “but I knew her, from before...” 

“Before what?” You’re seething now, the complete opposite of his calmness, “Did you fucking cheat me when we were dating, Charles?” 

“Ma chérie,” he gives you another pleading look, “please, I can change. I’ll go to therapy.”  

Now that, manages to get a bark of laughter from you. It’s ripped from the back of your throat, making you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the laughter to the point that there are tears in your eyes when you finally manage to calm yourself down. Putting the glass down on the coffee table once again, you wipe them off, mindful of your mascara, as you shift your attention back onto your husband. “Are fucking kidding me right now?” He gives you a concerned look, hands on his hips as he opens his mouth to answer you, but you quickly shut him down again. “You were bringing her into my house to fuck her, I caught you, I have your fucking sex tape – which is going to be streamlined for the world to see within twenty-four hours, do you honestly think I would go back to you?”  

“Wait, what?” He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “What do you mean they are going to streamline it, why didn’t you go to the lawyers? 

“I did go to the lawyers,” you shrug, innocently, “my lawyers,” you point out. “Why would I cover up your mistakes after everything you’ve done?” 

“Because I’m your fucking husband!” He barks, his arms widening to his sides as he finally loses his mask and his composure.  

His little tantrum only makes you let out another laugh, “Now, you’re my husband? Not when you’re cheating on me when I’m away shooting, but when you need me to clean up after your mistakes?” 

“How did you even get the video?” He asks, eyes narrowing down, “Who- who– who?” 

“Who? Who? Hoo? What are you, a fucking owl?” You exclaim, this time raising your voice. “You’re honestly more concerned about where I got it and not about the fact that the entire world is about to see you fucking someone other than your wife?” 

“What are we doing to do?” He asks, “Fuck, I have a race tomorrow.” 

“We’re not going to do anything.” You shrug, leaning forward to grab the glass and take another sip, “Or scratch that, we’re actually going to do something.” You stand up from the armchair, walk towards the table and hand him the file. “Congratulations, we’re getting a divorce.” 

“That is not happening.” He scoffs, not even bothering to look at the papers.  

“I don’t think you’re in the position to bargain with me, Charles.” You seethe, “You’re going to sign the damn papers, and you’re also going to sign away your rights to the baby.”  

“What the–?” He looks at you in disbelief, “You’re pregnant?” 

“Congratulations, it’s a boy.” You bite out, “Like you wanted.” 

“You’ve been drinking the entire night.” He points to the glass, “Do you expect me to believe you’re pregnant?” 

Offering him a sweet smile you hand him the glass, tipping it towards him, “It’s soda water, would you like a sip?” 

“Don’t make me do this,” he pleads, “give me another chance.” 

“I would’ve, if you were honest with me from the start.” You resign, a sincere look in your eyes. “I’ll give you a choice: us, or her.”  

He rears back with the offer, looking at you in disbelief. “What?” 

“You either choose me and the baby or you choose to be with her, and in that case, I will never let you near my baby, Charles.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.  

For a second, his eyes linger around your stomach.   But you know his choice when he meets your eyes again.  

“What have we done to each other?” He whispers, and you can barely see the tears in his eyes.  

“We didn’t do anything, Charles. I gave up everything for you, but you just took me for granted.” Walking back to the dining table, you grab your coat and bag, and when you come face to face with him again, your voice is soft despite all the anger you still feel towards him. “You, Charles Leclerc, are truly the smallest man who ever lived.”  

The hotel lobby is calm and empty as you sit at the bar, and it’s surprising when you consider that fact that it is the weekend of the Monaco Grand Prix, meaning that there must be hundreds and thousands of motorsports fans visiting. Not that you’re complaining about the silence, of course. After the night you’ve had, silence and calmness are all you could ask for.  

“I’ll get a whiskey, please, whatever top shelf stuff you’ve got.” A voice cuts through the moment you are having, and you instantly recognise the distinct accent of the stranger sitting next to you. “Thought you were in the States, finishing off filming.” This time, the comment is directed to you, and you roll your eyes as you push the empty glass towards the bartender on duty.  

With a sigh, you turn to the man on your right, “What do you want, Carlos?” Your voice conveys your lack of energy, and Carlos is not dumb enough not to notice the dark circles under your eyes beneath your makeup.  

“I came to check on you.” Is his answer. Simple, curt and to the point. You’d certainly appreciate it more if you had the patience for his antics.  

“Well, you did, have a good night.” Slamming down a hundred-Euro bill onto the counter, you make a move to get up from your place, but a gentle hand on your wrist stops you. “Let me go.”  

Though there is no venom to your voice, Carlos knows that it is not the time, nor the place, to test your patience. “I’m sorry,” he starts and when you take a good look at him, you can tell that he’s being sincere, “I really did want to check up on you, and considering the fact that you have a perfectly good penthouse but instead in a hotel, I think I was right to do so.”  

Crossing your arms across your chest as you get back onto the barstool with a huff, you glare at him lightheartedly, “I didn’t want to stay in the same house as him,” raising your eyebrows, you continue with a lower voice, “thanks to chilisade5594@gmail.com, but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” The way his cheeks redden under the dim lights of the lobby bar would make you chuckle under normal circumstances, but you push the thought aside, “Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re lucky it was me who realised it was you, if it was my agent or publicist, we’d have another scandal to deal with.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off with a swat of his hand, “I’m sorry I put you into that position.” 

“Don’t be,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side, “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t sent me the video. Just tell me why you did it.” 

“What?” He turns you with a confused look on his face.  

“Why, Carlos?” You ask, voice encouraging yet soft, “Why did you send it? Why now?” 

He keeps quiet for a while, not answering your questions but not taking his gaze off you either. Eventually, he exhales a deep sigh as he gives you a sheepish shrug, “I didn’t like the way he treated you. And I didn’t want to make you worry about it without concrete proof, so I guess everything just... worked out.”  

“Huh,” you let out a small hum in agreement, “I guess you’re right.”  

Expecting more than the words you chose to answer him with, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a big gulp of whiskey from his glass. “That’s it?” 

“Well, what more is it there to say?” You ask, sheepishly shrugging. “We’re getting a divorce; he’s going to move out and I’m gonna make sure the entire world knows just why.” 

Carlos flags down the bartender as he mumbles, “I feel like you need a stronger drink if we’re going to talk about your impending divorce, cariño.” 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling an even deeper sigh, you shake your head. “I can’t.” Thank God Carlos is one of the people who is the proud owner of a braincell around you, because he catches your insinuation quickly.  

With widened eyes, he quickly turns towards you, eyes softening as you offer him a sad smile. “Dios mío,” he murmurs, eyes running over you worriedly, “are you okay?” 

“Well... no.” You let out an unexpected laugh at his expression, patting him on the shoulder lightheartedly. “I’ll be fine, Carlos, I’m a big girl. I can handle this.” 

“I know you will,” he assures you, “but does Charles know?” 

Now that manages to bring a grimace to your face. “He signed his parental rights away along with the divorce papers.” The look he gives you after hearing your words has you worried that his eyes are going to pop out of their sockets, but you try to calm him down as best as you can. “Carlos, it’s fine.” 

“It’s most certainly not!” He exclaims, his voice echoing in the almost empty hotel lobby. “Is he out of his mind?”  

You give him an awkward smile and another shrug of your shoulders. "I... feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to be wrong. So... yes?”

“Cariño,” he says, exasperated, “how are you so normal about this?” 

“Lots of women raise their kids as single mothers while working, Carlos.” Your expression quickly taking the form of a frown, “I can handle this, I don’t need Charles or anyone else to hold my hand and tell me I’m doing such a good job.” 

“I know you can do this alone, tonta,” he rolls his eyes as the endearment making you roll your eyes, “but you’re not going to be alone. Because I’m here.” There’s a certain finality to his words. And just as you’re about to object to his words, he quickly shuts you down. “I know you can do this on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”  

“What if I need waffles in the middle of the night?” You ask, your eyebrow raised in a skeptical way.  

“I’ll adjust my pancake recipe.” His reply his immediate, and he shrugs lightly as he adds, “Pancakes are better, anyway.”  

Rolling your eyes you continue, “What if I need someone to hold my hand in the delivery room? It can get quite gruesome, you know?” 

He provides you with another nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never really been affected by it.”  

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Carlos!” You exclaim, pushing yourself off your seat as you turn your body to face him. “I don’t need you to bail me out, I don’t need your help!” 

“I know you don’t,” he nods.  

“I am capable of doing this on my own!” You shriek, and the fact that your face is starting to get progressively redder worries Carlos.  

“I know you are, but–” he tries to reason.  

“No buts! I’m going to be a good mother, okay?” You point an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m going to choose him!” 

The way your voice breaks at the end of your sentence has Carlos instinctively pull you into his arms, which is not that hard given the fact that you are almost the same height as him as you stand in front of the bar stool he’s sitting on, and he doesn’t say a word as you sob into his chest – letting out all the emotion you’ve bottled up over the past few weeks, no less. He doesn’t you offer you empty promises or tries to soothe you with cliché phrases. Instead, he stands still, holding you between his arms as you sob continuously into his chest. Giving the bar tender an awkward smile over your shoulder, he hands him his card to close out your tabs.  

He only starts talking again once you’ve pulled away and trying to wipe the remnants of your tears from under your eyes. “Do you feel better now?” He asks, handing you a napkin.  

“Yeah,” you mumble, sniffing as you play with the corners of the napkin. Then, you flip your eyes toward his, and fix him with a glare. “You are not becoming my kid’s stepdad.” 

“Of course not, cariño,” he assures you, “I’ll be the dad that stepped up instead.” 

You let out a teary chuckle as you slap him lightly on his chest. “I’m serious, Carlos.” 

“So am I.” He replies softly, and you can see the genuine look on his face. “You’re not alone anymore, I’m choosing you.” Tentatively, he presses his hand softly against your stomach as he maintains your gaze. “Both of you.” 

And though the last thing you want is a promise, this one seems like a real one. So, you let yourself believe that he might just keep it up. 

[mayanneaa]

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — When Lord Tyrell organizes a huge tournament, the rumour has it that the winner might get his eldest daughter's hand in marriage. When she finds out that certain twins are not playing fair and are scheming together with her father to win, she finds herself a champion she wants to succeed instead – Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was sent by his father to win the tournament.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. Although I am not sure if we have even seen them in House of The Dragon, so they can literally look like anything...? 🤔 Thank you so much for reading my last fic with Gwayne and leaving lovely comments and messages! 🌹 It inspired me to write for him again and I already have more ideas for him and a Tyrell Lady Wife (although I don't think the fics will be connected, so they can be read separately). For some reason it makes SO MUCH SENSE to me for Gwayne to have a wife from Highgarden! Some sexual things are mentioned here but there is no actual smut, so I didn't put the warnings. 😉

WORD COUNT — 5,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (I)

Beautiful courtyards of Highgarden were filled with tents and knights. The sound of horses and clinging armour reached your ears as you were taking a stroll between the tents – against your father’s wish. He didn’t want you to walk freely around all those knights but you had your own guards and your curiosity had no match because you knew perfectly well what that expensive and flashy tournament was about.

You were in the right age to marry – some would say the age was more than right, too right even. You were Lord Tyrell’s eldest daughter and out of all the three sisters, you were the only one who still remained unmarried. The reasons behind that were two. First of all, you were a picky and proud Lady. Second of all, you didn’t want to leave Highgarden and The Reach.

Your father hoped that your marriage would create a powerful alliance and as a daughter of The Lord Paramount of the Reach and The Warden of the South, you were quite a catch for your suitors. Walking amongst them, you saw them turning around and staring at you with smirks. You were the only Lady around and your pale green dress was showing off just enough of your virtues in a typical Highgarden fashion. There were golden roses in your hair and golden eyeshadow on your eyelids as you were all dolled up for the first day of the tournament.

You took a turn around the Lannister tent and you hissed at the sight of your father. Thankfully, he was not looking in your direction and you managed to hide behind your guards but you ordered them to stand still. You wondered why your father was even by the Lannister tent. Talking so openly to one of the knights participating in the tournament was a clear favouritism.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrell, your support means a lot,” Lord Lannister said and you tried to see him better from between your guards’ shoulders. You didn’t like him at all since arrogance was written all over his face.

“It is no secret for all the men here that I would like you to win. It is a formality,” your father lowered his voice. “An alliance between such big houses… It would make us both stronger,” he put his arm around The Lannister. “But I liked the idea of the tournament. It has splendour, don’t you think? I like to show off,” you father grinned.

“As I said before, I am no knight. My younger twin brother is,” Lord Lannister said and your father looked around before shushing him and they both entered the tent.

Curiously, with furrowed brow, you peeked inside the tent despite your guards’ protests. And you nearly gasped at the sight of another man inside who was being prepared for the tournament as a squire was putting his armour on. He looked identical to the man your father was talking to.

“My brother, Ser Tyland, will pretend to be me during the tournament. No one will know,” Lord Lannister told your father and your father nodded at that. “I will sit and watch, pretending to be him. I will be criticising his techniques out loud just like a real knight would criticise his foolish brother who takes part in a tournament without being a knight,” he explained, very proud of himself.

He wouldn’t be the only man who wanted to take part in this tournament without the title of the knight. After all, everyone was aware that the prize was your hand in marriage and you didn’t necessarily need a knight. There were lots of common Lords joining the tournament but they were all honest with their intentions. Not only Lord Jason Lannister had your father’s favouritism but he also was planning to obviously cheat by using his brother.

It made you angry as you carefully took a step back and nodded at your guards to follow you down the path. It seemed like the whole tournament was just a show and a theatre play – you were no longer excited since the end result seemed to be fixed. You would be sent to Lannisport to marry that annoying and arrogant Lord Jason Lannister. Tears filled your eyes and you didn’t even care about your makeup anymore since you no longer longed for the tournament to begin.

You walked past the greenest tent around and saw a man in auburn hair washing his face outside. He noticed your staring and looked up with a dashing smile. He recognised you immediately from the portraits and your clothes. Also, what other Lady would dare to take a walk here? Only the one for whom the tournament was taking place.

“Lady Tyrell,” he bowed his head but his blue eyes were still on you.

You sniffled your tears back and straightened yourself.

“Lord…?” You asked and turned your head to see the banner on the tent. “Lord Hightower? No, that cannot be. Lord Hightower is in King’s Landing, is he not? And he is much older. He is The Hand of The King Viserys,” you tilted your head a little.

“You mean Otto Hightower, my Lady,” the man nodded with a smile as he approached you. His armour wasn’t fully on yet and you could see his shirt slightly open. “I am his eldest son, Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he introduced himself and reached his hand out.

After a while of hesitation, you allowed him to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower. You are a brother to our Queen Alicent! Are you to inherit Oldtown after your father’s death?” You asked.

“That is correct, My Lady,” he nodded and straightened his back.

You hummed to yourself. Oldtown was in The Reach and it was the second largest and most populated city in the Seven Kingdoms. To get there from Highgarden, a horse needed around ten days down the Roseroad. You had been there before a few times with your parents but you had never met Ser Gwayne before. 

You looked him up and down. He had a cocky grin on his face but there was something about him that you actually quite liked – especially compared to Lord Jason Lannister. Ser Gwayne seemed to be confident but in a different, less exasperating way.

“Did your father encourage you to take part in this tournament, Ser Gwayne?” You asked him as you raised an eyebrow at him. “I do believe he is known for being an ambitious man.”

“Yes, my father insisted on me taking part,” Ser Gwayne admitted. “But I do not mind it myself.”

You nodded at that. Well, a union between your houses seemed to be right. You were both from The Reach and perhaps The Tyrells were more significant but The Hightowers were a real power, especially now. Sadly, your father seemed to be fixated on that whole idea of you marrying a Lannister.

Unless… Unless you would interfere somehow.

Your silence was interpreted by Ser Gwayne as a sign of exhaustion or boredom, though. He nodded his head and took a step back.

“It was nice to meet you before the tournament, my Lady,” he bowed his head. “I know there are dozens of knights around but, please, do remember about me while choosing your champion, I humbly ask,” he gave you one more dashing smile before walking inside his tent.

As a Lady for whom the tournament was taking place, you had the right to choose your champion. A man you favoured. Although, since the unofficial prize was your hand in marriage, it would be very awkward for a man who was not your champion to win. You assumed that your father would try to force you to choose Lord Jason Lannister.

And you had been right. Now, when you were holding a golden rose prepared for this occasion as all the knights were standing in front of you and your family in the audience, your father squeezed you by your elbow. He leaned in to whisper into your ear:

“You shall give the rose to Lord Jason Lannister and name him your champion,” he said with a fake smile before moving away.

You swallowed thickly and took a step ahead to be able to reach the man you would choose. You glanced at The Lannister man on the horse – Tyland, pretending to be Jason. And in the audience nearby you there he sat – Jason, pretending to be Tyland. Your eyes met for a second and he grinned at you confidently although he had no idea you were aware of his plan.

You searched for a different pair of eyes now, amongst all the knights. And then you found them, the blue ones. His armour had beautiful ornaments and even his horse was armoured. It all looked so elegant and you smiled at the sight.

You bit on your lower lip. But was he a good knight? Did he actually stand a chance to win?

Well, you were about to find out.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you took a few steps to the right to be closer to him as he commanded his horse to take a few steps ahead. “I choose you to be my champion,” you smiled at him and leaned in to hand him the golden rose.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell, it is an honour,” he bowed his head and you saw in his eyes that he was quite surprised that you had named him amongst all the men your champion. He took the rose from you carefully and pinned it to his armour before closing his helmet and returning to the other knights.

You took a deep breath in before walking away to take your seat. Your father’s burning gaze was nearly painful but your mother kept smiling, unaware of the schemings.

“That’s Otto Hightower’s eldest son. The Queen is his sister,” your mother babbled to your father. “Our daughter has chosen wisely,” she smiled at you. “And he’s handsome and quite young.”

Your father ignored her words and gave you a deadly glare instead but you only huffed and walked away, locking your eyes with Lord Jason again. The real one, sitting in the audience. He was not grinning anymore.

Thankfully, Ser Gwayne turned out to be an excellent knight. Sadly, so was Ser Tyland Lannister, pretending to be his brother Lord Jason.

On the second day of the tournament, they already got rid of most of their opponents as they defeated them in combat. Some of the knights were seriously wounded.

On the third day it was already known that the last duel would be between Ser Gwayne and Ser Tyland. Everyone was taking bets and your father was gritting his teeth.

All this time, you were carefully watched by him and you had no opportunity to speak to any of the men taking part in the tournament. But on the night before the last, fourth, day when the final duel would take place, your father had thrown a feast, during which you were approached by Ser Jason Lannister.

Or Ser Tyland. Were they pretending to be each other during feasts as well? You were tempted to ask but you had no courage to do so.

“Lady Tyrell, there should be songs about your beauty,” he bowed his head and you bowed down.

“Lord Lannister,” you mumbled out, uninterested. “Why aren’t you busy writing them then?”

Your mother looked at you with terror in her eyes but you ignored her.

“Oh, believe me, I do not have time for such frivolities although I wish I had. However, my duties in Lannisport are many. My treasure is full and I shall spoil you with my goods when you are my Lady Wife,” he grinned at you, luring you with his wealth.

“You sound so sure that you’re going to win, my Lord,” you pointed out.

“Oh, I am sure. Ever since you named that Hightower knight your champion, I am determined to show him his place. But I hold no resentment towards you for your choice. I do realise that you, women from The Reach, like to tease,” he winked at you and you had to pretend his words were not an insult. Even your mother gasped a little at his boldness.

“I cannot believe you would spoil me with your wealth for nothing in return, my Lord,” you raised an eyebrow, curious of the response.

“Well, of course not. Like every husband I want my wife to be obedient, easy on the eye and give me many, healthy children,” he informed you. “Sons, I mean,” he fixed himself. That arrogant smirk was still on his face.

“I think your father is calling us,” your mother saved the day as she quickly took you by the arm and excused you both to walk you away from Lord Jason. “Oh, what an insufferable man! Sadly, your father seems to be fixated on the idea of you marrying him. And you know, dear (Y/N), after all the matches you had dismissed in the past… You just can’t say no now. Especially at your age,” she looked at you sternly, but still worried.

You didn’t answer that. You simply nodded your head and walked away to go outside and catch a breath.

You kept walking ahead of you, leaving the noise of the party behind you. You wanted to be alone and despite the darkness, you knew where you were going because you knew this garden better than yourself.

You entered the maze to hide in your favourite spot but after a while you heard unfamiliar steps behind you. You gasped and turned around to see a male silhouette, which caused a shiver go down your spine. If something happened to you now, unguarded and with no one to rescue if you called for help… You didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.

“That is only me, my Lady,” you heard a familiar voice and the man took a few steps ahead. It was Ser Gwayne Hightower, smiling at you.

“Ser Gwayne!” You pretended to sigh with relief but the truth was that you didn’t trust him either. You trusted no man who was creeping up on a Lady like that. “We shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone,” you pointed out.

“Forgive me, I saw you running away and quite upset. I wanted to make sure nothing bad would happen to you as you wandered off from the crowd without any guards following you,” he lowered his voice as he approached you.

You swallowed thickly. He was right in front of you and behind you there was a tall live-fence that was making it impossible to escape. As he leaned in, his auburn hair fell onto his face and you felt it tickling your cheeks. That close he was.

“How chivalrous of you,” you breathed out, starting to feel dizzy. You had never been so close with a man.

He looked down, his gaze fixated on your tight, revealing dress. Your breasts were squeezed under the silky golden fabric.

“What if I don’t win tomorrow?” He asked as he lifted his eyes up again to meet yours. “Lord Jason is surprisingly good, especially for a man who is not a knight.”

“It’s because it’s not him,” you confessed with a heavy sigh and Ser Gwayne furrowed his brow at you.

“Are you suggesting that…?”

“I am not suggesting, Ser. It is true. I know from the very beginning, I have overheard them talking to my father. My father wants me to marry Lord Jason Lannister and this tournament is nothing but a show-off. He was angry at me for choosing you as my champion,” you told him.

Ser Gwayne seemed to be confused as he took a step back and you surprised yourself because you wanted him close again.

“That is… Unhonourable and disrespectful,” he pointed out. “Do you wish for Lord Jason to win as well, my Lady?” He looked at you, intensely.

“No! Why would I choose you as my champion then, Ser?” You shook your head, desperate to make him believe you.

“To toy with me, perhaps. Or to tease Lord Lannister,” Ser Gwayne pointed out.

“I do not wish to have anything in common with that man,” you huffed.

“And me? You do not know me, do you, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne smirked as he leaned in again, his nose nearly brushing yours as he put his right hand on the live-fence above you. You felt so small underneath him suddenly.

“What do you expect from a wife, Ser Gwayne?” You asked, swallowing a lump in your throat and he looked confused at that question as if it was a stupid thing to ask.

“Loyalty, of course,” he answered.

“And that’s it?” Now you were the surprised one. “What about children?”

“Well, it would be nice to have them, don’t you think, my Lady?” Ser Gwayne chuckled and rubbed your nose with his.

“What if I am flawed like my mother and I can give you only daughters?” You bit on your lower lip, slowly getting drunk at the feeling of having him so close.

“Then we shall make them all great ladies of great houses. My sister is The Queen. Us, Hightowers, we are ambitious,” he told you. “And I have many younger brothers who can produce their male heirs. The future of my family is safe whatever I do,” he assured you and raised his other hand to caress your cheek with his fingertips.

At first, you got startled at his touch as if it was causing you pain because you were not used to being touched like this by a male hand. But then, after a short while, you gave in and hummed to yourself, making him smirk.

You leaned back onto the live-fence and arched your back, connecting your crotch with his. You had no idea what made you do that… It was as if your instincts were telling you what to do. And it felt good.

“Don’t,” Gwayne scolded you and took a step back as you whined.

“Aren’t you here to claim me just in case you lose the duel tomorrow?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heating up. You couldn’t believe the boldness of your own words.

Lord Lannister had been right about the women from The Reach, apparently.

“Perhaps you should have not made me your champion, Lady Tyrell, if you think so lowly of me,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head and turned around to walk away, leaving you alone; confused and full of embarrassment.

One thing was certain – he was messing with your head. You couldn’t stop thinking of him all night long, touching yourself to the thoughts of him standing so close, to the memory of his touch and his voice.

You would rather die than marry Lord Jason Lannister. Any attempt to imagine anyone else other than Ser Gwayne touching you, was making you physically sick.

You watched with fear, clenching your fists on the railing and leaning down to see better although, at the same time, you didn’t want to see; you were that scared.

You knew that people had been betting on who would win this combat. And more people had bet on The Lannister. Your eyes followed the golden rose attached to Ser Gwayne’s armour, though. You only wanted to keep looking at him as you prayed to the gods old and new for his victory.

The combat was fierce and long. Both of the horses got hurt and taken away and the two opponents were standing face-to-face now, having to duel with their swords on the ground.

Lord Jason Lannister – the real one, the one in the audience – stood up and clenched his fists on the railing, too, as he watched his twin brother.

“Come on!” He yelled and that was when the other Lannister struck Ser Gwayne down. “Yes! That’s right!” He cheered alongside the audience. Then, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Ser Gwayne!” You exclaimed in a high-pitched, scared voice.

To your relief, your champion stood up after taking the blow and you clenched your fists even tiger around the railing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the wood with your hands.

After a few more attempts to strike each other down, both opponents were roaring with frustration. And then you spotted Ser Gwayne taking his helmet off and throwing it aside as people gasped.

Was he insane? You had been thinking that he was a rational man but apparently much less than you expected.

He looked up at you and nodded his head as the wind ruffled his auburn hair a little. You had to admit that he was presenting himself very handsome and you were aware that the helmet was limiting his view during combat but it was still very risky.

When you nodded back, he went back to the fight. His strikes and blows were fast and determined as if the fight was to death. You held your breath whenever he would get a punch or a strike since he was wearing no helmet. However, he seemed to be doing much better now.

Eventually, The Lannister was laying down and not standing up for quite a long time now as Ser Gwayne spat some blood out and looked up again – his face covered in blood and a few bruises but other than that, he was fine.

Your father stood up, carefully, before walking up to you to see with his own eyes. He hesitated and froze instead of announcing the winner and the whole audience was now looking at him.

“You shall announce my champion the winner,” you reminded him and he swallowed thickly.

“I… I announce Ser Gwayne Hightower the winner of this tournament. Congratulations!” He exclaimed and turned around this very instant to sit back down on his chair.

“You fought bravely, Ser Tyland,” Ser Gwayne helped his opponent to stand up as everyone froze at his words. “Oh, Lord Jason, do forgive me,” he nodded at him with a smirk before leaving the field.

Your heart picked up its pace and you couldn’t help a big grin. You glanced at The Lannister in the audience and he gave you a very unpleasant look this time. You couldn’t blame him, really. Ser Gwayne’s little mistake would make people gossip about The Lannisters cheating in the tournament. It was bringing you lots of satisfaction.

You were about to excitedly leave your parents’ side, when your father grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

“Where are you going?” He asked, harshly.

“To see my champion!” You answered him.

“Absolutely not,” your father shook his head. “You are coming with me to meet with The Lannister brothers,” he told you and both you and your mother widened your eyes at him.

“Father… Ser Gwayne has won the tournament… Fairly,” you pointed out.

“You said that the winner would have (Y/N)’ hand in marriage,” your mother reminded him.

“It was never officially announced, was it?” He barked at the both of you. “It was just a rumour.”

“Do you want to enrage The Hand of The King by disrespecting his son? Do you want to enrage The Queen herself by disrespecting her brother?” You asked him.

Your father let go of your wrist but he kept staring at you with anger and resentment in his eyes.

“Why did you want The Lannisters to win so badly?” You asked him. “To the point of letting them play it dirty and cheat?” You continued as your mother’s eyes were widening. “I have overheard your conversation on the first day while taking a stroll between the tents like you had forbidden me to,” you admitted. “Why, father?”

“My Lord Husband?” Your mother asked him, enraged by what she had just heard.

“Perhaps you have also overheard the part where I was saying that the tournament is a nice show-off,” he explained.

“I do understand why you threw the tournament. The question was not about that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Wealth,” was all he said after a short silence.

“And… that’s it?” You asked, disappointed.

Your father nodded and looked away.

“Wealth and splendour. An alliance between The Tyrells and The Lannisters would be a powerful one. And their treasure is big,” he added.

You opened your mouth to say something but you had no words.

“Your foolish sisters!” He continued as he raised his voice suddenly. “One married some Dornish lesser Lord and the other went up North to marry a knight in The Vale! The Ladies of House Tyrell! I should have been creating powerful alliances with you, foolish girls, but, no, all of you know better! All of you!” He yelled at you as your mother began to calm him down.

“I would never marry a man without an honour like Lord Jason Lannister,” you only said. “A cheater who plays dirty by using his brother because he knows very well that he would lose his very first combat if it was him down there,” you finished.

Without any other word, you hurried downstairs to run up to Ser Gwayne’s tent. His squire was working on removing his armour off of his body and you approached him to cup his bruised face splashed with blood.

“Ser Gwayne…” You started and then you swallowed thickly and looked down, remembering your encounter with him from the previous evening and the things you had been thinking of at night.

“Lady Tyrell,” he nodded at you with a smile.

“Are you alright, Ser? What has gotten into you to take the helmet off?” You asked as you dared to look up again, right into his blue eyes.

“It was limiting my view,” he answered. “I am alright, my Lady, no need to worry about me.”

“Are you always that irresponsible, Ser?” You asked yet another question. After all, it was important to know if he was supposed to be your Lord Husband.

“Never, my Lady. But it was rather an important combat, was it not?” He raised an eyebrow at you and you smiled widely at him.

You let go of his face as you took a few steps back to let his squire continue his work with the armour.

“I shall leave you now,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Tyrell,” Ser Gwayne bowed his head slightly as he watched you walking out of his tent.

There was a feast again on that evening but instead of being with the guests, your father was locked in the library with Ser Gwayne, discussing the unofficial prize of the tournament – your hand in marriage.

You were pacing around the corridor, all dolled up for the party in a pastel pink dress but with no interest to walk down and participate in the celebrations. You were afraid that your father would be rude to Ser Gwayne or scare him off, so you wanted to be around just in case you needed to put out some fire.

At first, you had chosen Ser Gwayne Hightower to be your champion simply to annoy your father and to avoid showing any favours to Lord Jason Lannister. But as the time progressed – especially after last night… – you just wanted to become Ser Gwayne’s wife. You would still live in The Reach and have your mother quite close but at the same time you’d be away from your father and his constant remarks of remaining unmarried despite your age.

Oldtown was an important place on the map of Westeros and you would be The Queen’s sister-in-law. Your father would be foolish to choose Lannister's gold over that honour.

The doors opened finally and you saw your father who was visibly surprised at the sight of you nervously pacing outside the library.

“Are you curious or nosy, dear daughter?” He asked you with his eyebrow raised.

“Perhaps both,” you answered.

“Either way,” your father shrugged, taking a step aside and revealing Ser Gwayne standing behind him, “that is not a problem of mine to deal with anymore,” he finished. “Disciplining her might be a challenge,” he chuckled at Ser Gwayne.

“With all respect, Lord Tyrell, I am not Lady (Y/N)’s father to discipline her,” Ser Gwayne nodded at him and approached you to hold your hands in his as he looked at your face. “We are going to get married, my Lady,” he announced to you and you smiled widely at him, feeling a huge wave of relief washing all over you. Relief, happiness and… excitement.

“When?!” Was all you asked before looking at your father’s face. He seemed to watch you carefully but wasn’t as displeased as before, right after the tournament.

“Ser Gwayne is running Oldtown in the name of his father so he must return there immediately tomorrow morning,” your father answered. “We will escort you to him for the wedding once all the preparations are finished. It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!” You whined. “How am I supposed to wait for so long?”

Ser Gwayne chuckled at that and so did your father as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You have been waiting for so long to get married, my dear, you can surely hold off a few weeks more,” your father pointed out.

But he didn’t understand. Now, when you actually wanted to become a wife and found a man worthy enough to be called your Lord Husband, you didn’t want to wait a day longer. However, being whiny about it would only make you look childish and desperate.

“I shall wait then,” you sighed and looked down in defeat.

“And I shall prepare The Hightower for your arrival, my Lady,” Ser Gwayne nodded at you. “What is your favourite colour, may I ask, my Lady, just so I know how to tell my people to decorate your new chambers?”

“It’s green, Ser Gwayne,” you answered with a soft smile. “Green and yellow like the colours of my house.”

“Something tells me we are going to be an excellent match,” Ser Gwayne smirked at your answer with a wink.

MASTERLIST

[mrskokushibo]

Dinner Party

Kyojuro x Sanemi x Tengen&wives x fem!reader

Warnings: Sex, Dirty Smut, MDNI, NSFW, strictly 18+. Group sex . Modern AU. Nearly 5k words Smut. Orgy. Rough oral.

Summary: Sanemi, your husband Kyojuro, and you enjoy dinner with Tengen and his wives at their place. The party ends with...sex. Essentially a pure smut. Enjoy!

Part 2: After Party out now

Masterlist

As Kyoujuro’s wife, you spent a lot of time with his co-workers. They all worked at a small, tight-knit firm that the three men founded together. Kyoujuro was friends with Tengen and Sanemi long before the two of you met, and they were the first people, even before his parents, that he introduced you to. And they were a lovely bunch. The flamboyant Tengen with his three gorgeous wives and the slightly on-edge Sanemi – a forever bachelor - the guy had much luck with women and yet did not seem to want to settle for anyone.

It was Saturday night and Tengen had you all over for one of his lavish dinners. His wives, Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma were the most gracious of hosts, preparing stunning meals and creating a lovely atmosphere with their bubbly personalities. The house was a modern villa, with a large and stylishly decorated living and dining space all wrapped around a Japanese-inspired closed-in courtyard that housed a garden and an onsen. You all usually stayed late into the night, chatting away, watching movies, and drinking.

The atmosphere tonight was just as friendly, however, something seemed to be on Tengen’s mind all night. He kept on giving you quick glances all through the dinner and lowering his gaze every time you caught him doing it.

After dinner, everyone made themselves comfortable in the large lounge, the girls snuggled up to Tengen, but he kept on looking at you, his gaze baring mischief. Kyoujuro, as always, was a bit too tipsy to even notice what Tengen was doing, he did not drink on a normal basis, so every time he did, he could not really handle it. He leaned his head on your shoulder and said out into the room,

‘Maybe we should go home now y/n, and leave our lovely hosts to enjoy the evening.’

‘Well, Kyo, good that you speak up, I was just about to suggest that you all stay here with us tonight’

The gorgeous white-haired man suddenly said, all the time looking you in the eyes, his movie-star smile was as wide as it got.

‘It is fine. Thanks for the offer, but we can take a taxi home, no need to have us mess up your guest room’ Kyojuro replied.

Tengen threw his head back and laughed.

‘Oh, no, my dear Kyo. Innocent as always.’ He smirked. ‘What I meant is, that you join us for our nightly activities this evening.’

He looked you in the eye again, as in anticipation, and then confronted you with zero shame.

‘What do you say, y/n. Would you mind sharing your husband with my girls?’

You looked at your husband and he was simply too stunned to even react. Before you could answer Tengen, he nodded toward Sanemi

‘How about you? Care for some fun?’

Sanemi smirked ‘You know I am always up for a good fuck.’

Tengen looked back at you and Kyojuro.

‘So, how about you guys?’ question directed more at you than Kyo.

You looked at Kyo whose cheeks were now red as a beet.

‘What do you think?’ you asked him

‘It is up to you, I guess’ he nearly stammered.

You looked back at Tengen and something very basic was waking up in you. His normally charming gaze was also turning darker and you now knew nothing better than to succumb to your baser instincts.

‘I am up for it. Yes, for sure.’

You looked at Kyo, who was staring at you in shock.

‘Baby, you will have fun. You will see. Besides, it would be rude to disappoint our gracious hosts.’ You smiled innocently at him, while your thoughts were anything but.

Tengen stretched out his arm to you and spoke

‘Come here then.’

When you walked up to him, he stood up and said to his wives:

‘Ok, you three have fun with the boys, I want this one to myself first’ With that he grabbed you by the hand and started to lead you away to their bedroom.

In the meantime, Sanemi shamelessly waved in Makio and Hinatsuru to come to him and soon enough the trio was getting on with clothes being ripped off and moans starting to fill the space. Kyoujuro was still seated in the same spot, but now with a visible erection growing in his pants. Suma walked over to him and knelt between his legs.

‘Do not be shy. I will help you relax’ she giggled massaging his clothed dick and making him moan quietly.

You were now being led through the spacious house to Tengen’s bedroom. His large hand holding yours softly and a sweet smile graced his handsome face. Your anticipation was growing with every step, your pussy slowly tightening and wetness forming between your legs. You always admired Tengen’s looks and physique, but honestly always dismissed any dirtier thoughts from lingering for longer than a flash of a second. But now, you were granted the possibility to finally explore and revisit all that you always pushed aside. At last, you reached the bedroom. It was big by normal standards, but not as large as you would imagine, most of it taken up by a huge bed. There were multiple doors leading to what you could make out as two ensuite bathrooms and nothing less but four separate walk-in closets. Walls were adorned with artwork and there was a large tv on the opposite wall. The room smelled of jasmine and other floral notes you did not quite recognise.

Tengen was standing behind you with his hands placed on your shoulders. He pressed himself tightly into your back and leaned down to kiss your neck. His large, muscular body was cradling you perfectly and he had to lean down far to reach your neck due to the considerable size difference between the two of you. You could feel his hard dick pressing into your waist and you started grinding yourself back on him. It felt huge, the hardness against your soft backside making you want to rip his clothes off and fuck him straight away.

His hands were now moving down your neck to your breasts. The feel of his large, warm hands on your exposed neckline was making you so freaking hot. Soon enough he was massaging your breasts with both hands, not being fully satisfied with touching you through your clothes, he reached down into your lowcut top and into your bra, playing gently with your nipples. You were eliciting some very lascivious moans as he took out your boobs from the bra and out of your top. He was tracing your neck and sides of your cheeks with his lips all the while you were bucking your back into his hard-on. He started to remove your top, with skillful hands unclipped your bra and tossed it to the side, and finally slid down your skirt and panties. All you were left wearing were your lace top stay-ups and high-heeled stiletto shoes.

Slowly, he started pushing you lightly, making you move toward the bed. He pushed far enough that you were now leaning over the edge of it supported by your stretched-out arms. He spread your legs wide and went down on his knees behind you spreading your ass cheeks and licking up a quick line along your wet folds. He kept on licking you between your legs with the flat of his tongue, but he needed better access to work more meticulously.

So now, he gently helped you switch positions and you were soon lying flat on your back with legs spread wide for him. He removed his shirt and you gasped at the sight of his naked torso. He grinned widely

‘You like what you see?’

He was very aware of what his looks did to women and found it amusing at times, but without being cocky about it. His fingers were spreading your labia and he focused on rubbing on one side while licking your clit area with slow and light movements of his wet muscle. A finger was drawing circles around the opening of your cunt with him increasing the pressure on the inside of your labia. You were experiencing so much pleasure now, all you could do was close your eyes and moan like a whore.

He kept his movements on you steady and firm, not moving from any spot until your moans were not as loud anymore, skillfully seeking out the next more sensitive spot by listening to your vocal response and the movement of your hips. He was essentially doing what you used to when you masturbated. His pussy eating skills were unmatched. As he felt your arousal intensify, your pussy clenching and spasming more and more he was now narrowing down his movements closer and closer to your clitoris, slowly sending you into overdrive. He was not cruel, however, and feeling you were about to edge, he now applied extra pressure on your clit and worked until you could no longer control yourself, the sensation of needing to pee quickly turning into an avalanche of ecstasy. You squirted all over him and kept on moaning even as you were descending from your high.

He climbed onto the bed next to you and started kissing you, making you taste your own juices.

‘You taste so good, y/n, I cannot get enough of you.’

Your hands were already fumbling with his zipper and soon you were sliding his pants and boxers off. When his dick was exposed, you stopped your action and grabbed hold of it, him doing the rest of the undressing. You were completely mesmerised by its size. Sure, Kyo was not small and you had your fair share of cock before him, but this? This was on another level. Tengen was nearly two meters tall and not directly lanky, with a strong muscular build so his size would most likely be reflected in his dick, but this was more than you ever thought was possible. Nine inches maybe? You swallowed and started slowly to lick him up his shaft, making him sigh in pleasure.

You were licking him and stroking with your hands for a while, lapping up the precum that steadily leaked out of his tip. Opening your mouth wide you started to sink yourself over his dick while pumping the rest of the huge shaft with one hand. He was rubbing you between your folds again, creating new wetness that was now running down your thighs. Come over here ‘he whispered and guided you to sit down on his face.’ You were in a full sixty-nine now. One of your favourite positions.

With a firm grip on your hips, he pulled you down so that you were fully seated on his mouth and started snaking his tongue into you. At the same time, you were now enthusiastically sucking him off, your cheeks hollowing and small gagging sounds coming out of your mouth every time you sank down on his length. He was gentle with your blow job, not bucking his hips nor pushing down your head. He was aware of his size and had enough control and experience to immerse himself in you doing the work for him instead.

His tongue was working relentlessly on your clit, with you bucking your hips back and forth to create more friction. You were edging now, but too focused on giving him pleasure to have your own release again. He must have felt you clench and get wetter as that went straight to his dick, you feeling it twitch, stiffen and a few more sucks later he came into your mouth, filling you up. You swallowed eagerly, the pleasant salty taste of him tantalising your senses. While you were licking him dry, he intensified his pressure on your crotch and you came again. Not a huge orgasm this time, but good enough to make you scream out briefly.

Now you lay next to each other, enjoying the lingering sensation of contentment and the warmth of still pulsing, blood-filled and swollen genitals. His hand was tracing lightly on your folds, smearing all the cum that leaked out of you.

You were now curious about what was going on in the living room… You lifted your head up a little and was listening to the distant sounds of pleasure. Tengen smirked and picked up a remote control. After a moment of fumbling the tv turned on and what came up on the screen was a bird’s eye view of Tengen’s living room.

‘You have cameras in there??’ you asked.

‘Yes, they are security cameras, but I just realised they could come to good use’ he said with a broad grin.

What was happening on the screen was a full-blown orgy.

Sanemi had Makio and Hinatsuru working on his cock, with Hinatsuru sucking his balls and Makio bobbing her head up and down with Sanemi pressing her head down in an unkind manner. His head was thrown back on the headrest and his teeth were gritted in pleasure.

All the while Kyoujuro was frenetically thrusting his hips and cock into Sumas backside who was moaning loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood.

You were staring at the screen with your pussy gradually getting wetter (if that was even possible from how soaked you already were). You were interrupted by Tengen, who was positioned between your legs with the large cock erect once again. Your look must have unveiled your worries as he said in a soft voice

‘It will fit. I promise. You are so wet anyway’. He smiled.

With that, he parted your pussy with his fingers and positioned his tip at the opening, pushing in slowly. The feeling of a cock this size filling you up was making you absolutely wild with arousal. You were moaning for every inch he was gaining on you. His actions were pure perfection, he really had an intimate knowledge of the female body. He could not bottom out yet, his cock simply too huge and your pussy clenching ferociously. But that did not bother him much. You would eventually open more.

He now started gently pumping his dick into you while watching the footage from the living room. He tilted your chin and turned your head toward him and with a delicate stroke to your cheek, he said in a soft but slightly condescending tone.

‘Do you like what you see?’ It was almost a whisper. ‘You are a very dirty girl, aren’t you?’

‘How about we give my girls a break and I call the boys in here for you? I think you might enjoy that…. I do not think you are satiated yet; I can see it in your eyes.’

You swallowed. You knew so well what he had in mind and the thought of all three males giving you this kind of attention made your body basically limp with arousal.

You kept on watching until everyone in the living room climaxed. Tengen pulled out of you, got up and disappeared into the living room. When he appeared on the screen you could hear him tell his wives to relax and put champagne on cooling. He needed the three men in the bedroom with you and him and you all would be a while, but you all would join the ladies in the hot tub for a relaxing soak and champagne afterward. The girls giggled and walked out of the living room.

The screen went empty and a moment later the three men appeared in the bedroom. Kyo with a heavy blush covering his face, the confident Sanemi with a smug smirk and finally Tengen with a peaceful expression in his smiling pink eyes.

‘Well, well, well. Aren’t you a horny one. Sure you wanna take all three of us at once?’

Sanemi blurted out in his usual cocky manner.

‘Did you know she was like this?’ he asked turning to Kyoujuro.

Kyoujuro’s normally gentle eyes started to narrow and you could see he was on the verge of saying something he would regret. Luckily, the tactically minded Tengen, being the older one here, took reign of the situation and said

‘Hey guys, let’s not bicker, we are all consenting adults here. I think we should get to it before your nagging puts y/n off’

he looked at you and when he was sure they could not see his eyes, he rolled his eyes in a conspiratory gesture toward you, something that made you smile through pressed lips and nod your head to him lightly. You were getting very used to his charming demeanour. 

‘Ok, ok. We can get started. Btw, are you ok with taking it up your ass y/n? No offence, but there are three of us here’

Sanemi noted, but got quickly interrupted by Tengen

‘Nemi, seriously, It is up to y/n, however, she has not prepped herself. So no, I can answer on her behalf that that is off-limits tonight. Y/n, do you agree?’

‘Yes, totally.’

Sanemi sighed deeply, almost as if in disappointment. So, he was into anal, hey? You learned something new tonight.

Sanemi was the first to walk up to you, his erect heavy cock bobbing with every step. He knelt down beside you and started massaging your breasts and enclosed his lips on one of your nipples. You started moaning, his massage of your boobs getting more intense and his tongue flicking your nipple faster now.

‘You know, I might just fuck your tits then, since you won’t put up back there’ he said with a grin.

With that, he straddled your torso and positioned his hard dick between your breasts.

‘Now, sweetheart, squeeze them together for me so I can fuck them’

You did as he asked and soon his dick was sliding back and forth between your tits, his leaking tip coming close to your chin with every move forward. In the meantime, you could feel a large finger spread your labia again, Tengen was getting ready to fuck your pussy. You were so wet now, that he did not need any more prep, but instead, you started to feel that enormous dick of his being slowly pushed into you again.  He felt so fucking good and his movements were just perfect. You completely understood how the guy could satisfy three women. Kyoujuro was the last to join, standing next to your face, the blonde was pumping his thick cock next to your mouth, and looking at you with those hungry amber eyes you were so used to. You opened your mouth eagerly and he slowly pressed himself past your lips, your tongue snaking on the incoming length. His hand stroking your hair gently.

‘Fuck, Kyo, she is such a slut, taking us so good. I could though sense her being on the wild side the first time we met, she was too hot to be tame’

Sanemi spoke through gritted teeth, his little dirty monologue stopped by Tengen who flicked his finger at the back of Sanemi’s head.

‘Shut it, Nemi. Just enjoy yourself, will you? But, hey Kyo. Y/n is lovely and if she does not mind, I would love to have an encore of our evening’

He spoke with quite a strained voice now, being engulfed in his own pleasure. Right now, it was only Tengen and Sanemi who were making you weak with pleasure, Tengen’s cock hitting all the right spots with every slow thrust and Sanemi pinching and rolling your nipples with his calloused fingers. You were eliciting muffled moans onto Kyoujuro’s cock, but to be honest, you were not sucking him with much enthusiasm, being so engulfed in what the two white-haired hotties were doing to you.

Suddenly, Kyoujuro grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head backward. The look in his eyes was wild and fierce and he hissed through his teeth:

‘You are neglecting your wifely duties, my dear. I think I must show you how to behave properly.’

With that, he shoved his full length into your mouth making you gag. This really took you by surprise, almost so you did not recognise your so otherwise playful and gentle lover. You looked at him pleadingly, but he did not seem to care, continuing to thrust into you while holding your hair tight. You were completely at the three men’s mercy, taking whatever they were giving to you, and thanks to Tengen you were receiving a lot. The pressure in your belly was increasing and you were now edging. You tapped Sanemi on the arm

‘squeeze the other nipple too, please Nemi’

He smirked and granted your wish. The action of his rough hands on your hard buds was what was needed to push you over the edge and you climaxed, your scream only muffled by Kyojuro’s cock inside your mouth. The spasming of your pussy was now too much for Tengen as well, and soon enough your clenching muscles milked him hard and  you felt the warmth of his cum inside you. When he pulled out, you felt so empty, you pulled away from Kyojuro’s cock and tried to look around Sanemi to send your plea to Tengen, but right then it was Sanemi’s turn to orgasm and you were met with thick ropes of semen spraying your face and landing in your open mouth.

Kyojuro was now really annoyed, once again having your attention stolen like this. He shifted his position so that he was facing you just behind the top of your head where you were lying down and then hovered himself over you, with his hips over your face and his face toward your belly. His heavy dick now hanging down in your face, he tilted your head slightly backward and pushed himself in your mouth with the intention to mouth fuck you properly. He was fast and rough, almost choking you. His grunts were hoarse and deep. This was not the most comfortable fucking you experienced, to be honest, and you were surprised by his sudden roughness.

Luckily for you, Tengen dove between your legs and started teasing your now overstimulated clit. His licks and massage were just as good as the first time he made you come. You were slowly adjusting to Kyojuro’s actions and focused solely on enjoying what Tengen was doing to you, him now flicking your clit faster and faster until you dissolved in another orgasm, squirting all over his handsome face. He smiled and lapped up as much as he could of your juices. The sight of all this must have finally been too much for Kyo, who now actioned a sloppy thrust and emptied his balls deep into your throat.

His load must have been huge as when he pulled out a fair bit leaked out onto your cheek. You were too fucked out to even notice that your face and neck were literally smeared with cum. You just laid there in bliss. Sanemi and Kyoujuro were both also lying on their backs in the large bed, panting. Tengen though was too considerate to leave you hanging. He walked up to you and lifted you up in his arms.

‘You look like you need a shower’ and carried you to the bathroom.

‘Can you stand up?’

Surprisingly, you could.

‘Good. I am glad to see that you can.’

He turned on the shower and when he deemed the temperature to be just right, he led you in there and embraced you, whispering into your ear

‘Just so you know, I really, really want to see more of you like this. I mean it’

You looked into his enchanting eyes and felt like this would be a lovely arrangement.

After you showered you joined the group in the onsen and all of you enjoyed the rest of the night with champagne and conversation flowing freely.

Banners by @adornedwithlight and @cafekitsune

Tagging: @muzansfangs @doumadono @horror4themasses

[reidrum]

the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

in control (paige x reader)

summary: you take control to show paige just how proud of her you are after a good game

content warnings: nsfw smut dirty talk fingering sub paige munch/dom reader strap

inspired by this and this request!

You waited for your girlfriend in the same place as always post game. Outside the locker room. You could hear the muffled cheers and celebrations from inside and you smiled to yourself. You were always so proud of Paige, but especially today. She was anxious for this season to start, knowing it was her last year here and the pressure to get a national championship was bigger than ever but she showed everyone what she was about. There really was no more passive Paige and even though it was only the first game, you could see that. You watched her work her ass off all summer and it was paying off.

Paige loved hearing how proud of her you were but her love language strayed more towards physical touch than words of affirmation and you planned on letting her know just how proud of her you were, in a way she would feel it rather than hear it.

“Hi my love.” Paige beamed as she came out of the locker room, her hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you into a hug.

She was fresh out of the shower, her hair was damp and brushed out of her face. She smelt of coconut and vanilla and you couldn’t help pressing your lips to the soft skin on her neck, “Good game baby.” You praise into her ear.

“Thank you. Wanna go out and eat to celebrate?” She asks looking down at you with her big blue eyes.

“I was thinking we could go back to mine and I could eat you out to celebrate?” You whisper for just Paige to hear as her teammates filter out of the changing room.

Paige gulps and you watch in real time as her pupils dilate, “That works too.”

“You coming P?” Aubrey asks as the girls start to make their way to the exit.

“Nah, got plans with my girl.” Paige says draping an arm over your shoulder and leading you away but you don’t miss the wink she sends Aubrey and you nudge your elbow into her side, “Have some decorum.”

The ride back to your place was charged to say the least. Paige couldn’t keep her hands off you as you drove. They started at the nape of your neck, then they were on your waist, then your thighs and as you squeezed your legs together, Paige fought to slip her hand inbetween, cupping you tingling cunt. You had a good mind to pull your car over right there and climb over the console and on top of Paige but you controlled yourself.

“I’m gonna crash if you carry on.” You hiss at her.

“I’m sorry baby, you just look so good.” She rasps, removing her hands from you and you immediately miss her touch and wish you never said anything.

Getting through the front door was a task, Paige was wrapped around you from behind, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and jaw. She was needy today and you liked it. Paige was usually very dominant and in control, she was rarely at your mercy but your words earlier had an effect on her and she was ready to let you have your way.

“On the bed.” You ordered and Paige wasted no time complying, kicking off her shoes in the process. Her eyes were low and hooded, she drank you in as you stripped out of your clothes until you were stood in her favourite lace set, worn purposely for this moment.

“Shit baby. So fucking hot.” She muttered, shimming out of her sweats exposing her slender legs.

You crawled up the bed slowly, your eyes never once straying from your girlfriends and she bit on her bottom lip, a low groan escaping her mouth.

You pressed tender kisses to the inside of her thigh, nipping and sucking at the skin, leaving red marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment in days to come.

You kissed all the way up to her boxers and she shivered with anticipation as your fingers traced her folds over the thin material.

“I want them off.” You remark, snapping the waistband against her skin and she quickly lifts her hips pulling the boxers down, revealing her already glistening cunt.

“So wet for me and I’ve barely touched you.” You purred, licking your lips at the sight in front of you.

“That’s what you do to me baby.” Paige husked out and she bucks her hips towards you, “My body is crazy for you.” Her eyes were filled with a burning desire and it ignited something deep inside of you, so passionate and heated, you lowered your mouth to her core and began moving your tongue in short, quick flicks, devouring her like you were starving and she was the last meal on earth.

“Holy fuck baby, that feels so good.” Paige moaned as you continued lapping at her cunt.

Your grip on her calves was firm as you held her legs in place, bent and spread apart, creating the perfect space for your head to nestle inbetween.

“You taste so good baby, so fucking good. I could eat you all night.” You mummble against her and the vibrations caused by your voice make her tremble with excitement.

“I’d let you.” She groans, “I’d let you do anything.” You lift your head to look at her and you replace your tongue with a finger and watch as her eyes roll back as she basks in the feeling of you being inside her.

“Anything?” You ask, your thumb presing to her throbbing clit, “Anything.” She confirms and you slip another finger in and start pumping in and out, curling up to hit her g-spot with each stroke.

“Cum for me and then we’ll test that theory.” You dip your head back down and work your tongue and fingers in conjunction, your only goal now being to make your girlfriend cum.

“Shit, don’t stop.” There’s nothing in this world that would make you stop. You were already soaking from the moans and raspy words spilling out of Paiges mouth.

“Fuck I’m- ugh- I’m gonna cum.” She breathes out and you take her clit in your mouth sucking it raw as you feel her walls contract around your fingers. Her legs begin to tremble and shake and she grips onto your hair pushing your face further into her.

“Shit-” She moans before letting out a guttural growl and her juices seep out, dampening the sheets.

You work Paige through her orgasm until shes begging you to stop but you’re not done.

“On your hands and knees for me baby.” You request, slipping your fingers out of her and stuffing them in your mouth, savouring every last drop of the sweetness you had caused to melt out of her.

You watch as Paige shakily manoeuvres herself into your desired position, still feeling the effects of her high. She looks back at you, ass up, thighs moist and her eyes flutter as you step into the harness before securing it around your waist.

Wearing a strap felt foreign to you, this was usually Paiges domain but with the way she was bent over, hole pulsating, ready for you, you were in your element.

You teased her wet folds with the tip of the strap, swiping it up and down and Paige gasped at the initial contact. As much as this was new for you, it was new for her too.

“Are you gonna take my cock like a good girl, P?” You ask, sending a smack to her ass cheek.

“Mhm.”

“Words baby.”

“Y-yes.” She stuttered out and she pushed her ass back and that was the only sign you needed that she was ready.

You guided the silicone dick into her, slowly filling her up.

“Fuckkk.” She groaned as you went deeper.

“Such a good girl.” You praised as you latched onto her hips and begun to thrust. With each pound, the base of the strap hit into your cunt sending ripples of pleasure through you. You could see why Paige enjoyed this.

“You look so fucking hot like this.” You grunted as you drove into Paige at such force that the only sound that could be hurt over her moans was the slapping of flesh. Her ass against your hips and it was only adding to your arousal.

“Feels so- ugh- so good.” She whimpered and you reach forward taking her hair in your hand and you tug at it, “Tell me how good.”

“The best- oh my god- the fucking best Y/N.”

You quicken your pace, now fully in the swing of dominating your girlfriend and you look down at the strap, at it hammering into Paiges sopping cunt and you release her hair, your hand coming up to squeeze and tug at your tit.

Paiges head drops into the pillow in front of her and her hands grapple with the sheets, you can tell she’s close and the way her body glistens with sweat drives you crazy and you can’t stop yourself as you slip a hand around to tease her clit.

“Ugh- I’m gonna cum- shit- right there.” She groans and you press down further.

“Fuckkk! I’m- I’m cumming!” She cries out and her body thrashes and twitches before going completely still and she collapses onto the bed in a mixture of pants and groans.

You slip your cock out of her admiring the state of it, wet and sticky and you think if it wasn’t attached to you, you’d lick it clean.

You flip Paige over so she’s on her back and she looks so gloriously fucked out, her hairs a mess on the pillow beneath her head, her chest is rising and falling at a quickened pace and her eyes, when she finally opens them are filled with such intensity, you want more.

You push her legs up so they’re bent and her leaking cunt is exposed to you once again, “I can’t.” She whimpered trying to close her legs but you held them firm, “You can baby. One more time. Cum for me one more time.” You urge and you slide into her again, slower than the previous time and you watch as her mouth falls open, eyes screw shut and head tips back. You could cum simply from this view.

You work inside of Paige slow and deep, grinding your hips to pleasure yourself at the same time.

“Its- its too much.” She cries reaching up to push you away.

“Just take it. Take me.” You assert not stopping your movements and it takes seconds for Paige to be arching off the bed yelling your name.

With the way she looked, so helpless beneath you and sounded so insanely out it, you could feel a fire roaring in your abdomen.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” You pant, drawing back and then slamming into her hard and forceful and that does it for the both of you.

You fall ontop of Paige in a trembling heap and she wraps her arms around you holding you close as you both succumb to your orgasms. Time slows as shockwave of electricity fire through your bodies and you let out the most animalistic groan, burying your face into Paiges chest.

“Shit baby,” You choke out, “You took me so well.”

You press sloppy kisses along her collarbone, the taste of sweat, salty on your lips. You push yourself up and out of Paige and she whimpers at the feeling, “You did so good P, are you OK?” You ask softly aware of onslaught you just put her through.

“Yeah but you’re never topping me again.” She chuckles as you lay beside her breathlessly.

“You loved it.” You quip, wiping your brow of the baby hairs that stuck to your clammy skin.

“I fucking adored it but I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i have no words actually 😵‍💫 freaky friday in full effect 💋

[noneofyoubeewax]

 inspired by this post 

Deadly concerning 

I seen a few post about Billy and Danny either getting tricked into marrying each other or just marrying each other for the convenience, so I’m making my own.

Billy 12. Danny 14. They’re not in a love relationship they get along like friends 

(During some magical crisis)

Green Arrow: Are we sure we can’t just call Cap

Black Canary: No, I told you this already, Marvel had family troubles and that he would be off online

John Constantine: besides, you have me the worl-

Zatanna: and me

John: yeah yeah and her helping you take care of this ghost, all we have to do is-

(After trying out his plan and processed to get their butts kicked)

Green arrow: that fail horribly

John: shut it

Batman: we need a new plan before that destroys anymore of the city

Superman: is there anything else we can do

Zatanna: we try summoning a greater ghost to deal with this ghost

Green arrow: and who do we call to deal with the new ghost

Zatanna: no no we just need to summon a ghost who has to leave after it completes its task.

John: true there are ghost like that but usually very weak, doubt they could take out are problem.

Zatanna: there is one we try

John: which one are—OH HELL NO, you trying to get this all killed

Batman: what are you both talking about

John: she wants to summon the The Ghost King Consort 

Black canary: and that’s bad way?

Zatanna: The Ghost King is already a bloody tyrant and you can imagine how worst his partner can be. But the Constant can beat this ghost and would have to return back to the ghost realm.

John: yeah but that doesn’t stop them from going to the king and getting us in trouble.

Zatanna: what other choice do we have

Everyone:…

Batman: do it

(The summoning)

John: stand back everyone , there’s no telling what this thing can do

Billy: *poof* …..

John:……

Everyone: ……

Superman: tha that’s a child

Billy: um hello (“nonono did they figure out my identity”)

John: this can’t be real

Superman: OH MY GOD THAT IS A CHILD

Batman: (crouching down to Billy) hello little one, are you ok?

Billy: um ….yes!…… why am I here? 

Batman: Do you know who the ghost king is

Billy: (thinking about Danny, notthe previous ghost king) yes he’s my husband (“that so weird saying”)

Batman: (presses his lips together into a frowning face) we called you here to help us take care of a ghost that is destroying everything, can you help.

Billy: (smile so bright that there is a ting of pain that goes through everyone’s heart) of course, it would be my honor. Tawny here can help (raises a Stuffed beat up Tiger)

Superman: Oh god the tiger has a name.

( after defeating the ghost and sending it back)

Billy: (prepare to step in the summoning circle to go back home)

Black canary: wait ummm

Billy: billy

Black canary: has the ghost king made you anything you don’t want to do

Billy: what

Green arrow: how old are you

Billy: um 12, look I have to go before someone comes looking for me

Batman: here take this (holds out a card), call if you ever need help.

Billy: ok (takes the card) bye

( billy vanishes right before their eyes as he steps into the circle)

Superman: oh my god that was a child.

[hoonieyun]

so lovey dovey

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: fluff and romance warnings: consensual skinship, drunk!jake, kissing, kinda suggestive, 18+ inspired by jake's live where he says "when i'm drunk i become lovely & cute" as if he isnt always lovely and cute >_<

hoonieyun notes: some fluff because why nawt.. im slowly amping all of the angst in the up coming fics for february so i'm making up for it now by posting a few fluff and romance drabbles :3

wc: 1037

jake was sprawled across your couch as he takes occassional sips from his glass of beer. it wasn’t often that jake drank but tonight he invited the guys over for game night and that usually entails drinks and a bunch of food. you didn’t mind doing your own thing on the side as you lounged in the comfort of your bedroom, every now and then making an appearance to make sure everyone was good and not fighting for losing or winning or even stealing some of the food for yourself. 

and that’s what you were about to do right now. you had just finished your small bowl of tteokbeokki and it certainly wasn’t enough so you decided to grab some more. you walk out of you and jake’s shared bedroom and find the group of guys arguing over mario kart. 

jungwon claiming that niki cheated, jay not paying attention to the argument because he came in 1st place, and jake who was already staring at your figure standing in the hall.

“hi, baby” he says, drawing out the last part of the petname. 

“hi, jakey. i just want some more food.” you chirp as you approach and he instantly takes your bowl to fill it with more food. “you sure you don’t wanna come join us?” he asks, handing you back your bowl. 

“mmm…” you ponder, looking over to niki and jungwon who are still arguing and sunoo who was having too much fun laughing at the two younger guys bicker. before you could even answer, jake is pulling you into his lap and whispering into your ear, “please, stay.” he says. his breath was low and warm and it sent tickles down your back. you nod in agreement and his smile widens at your response. 

jake loved having you around at all times, even when you two weren’t necessarily doing anything, he just loved having you near him. 

the guys often teased him that he was too whipped or down bad for you and jake would just brush it off. of course he was down bad for you, every man should be down bad for his girlfriend, if he wasn’t then he was doing something wrong. 

you silently eat your food as the games continue, heeseung using his eldest privileges to change the game to which jungwon groaned as he wanted another chance at mario kart. 

you weren’t sure what game they were playing but they all took turns passing the controller around to kill monsters and what not. and when it came to jake’s turn, the guys would groan in annoyance after jake causes them to die and lose the game. 

all of them turned their attention to jake who was too busy staring at you eating your tteokbeokki to pay any mind to the game they were playing. 

“dude, you just let us die!”

“earth to jake?”

“hellooo?”

they all tried to get his attention but he was too immersed in you to notice. eyes sparkling as he watches you fondly and lovingly. a cute habit of his whenever he got drunk or even the slightest bit tipsy. 

he would get very cute and lovely and wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head as if you weren’t always occupying his mind. 

“jakey, the guys are talking to you..” you say, blinking a few times at him and his smile widens when he hears your voice. 

jake doesn’t even glance over to the guys, he just sloppily passes the remote to one of them in which sunghoon catches it and continues the game after jake has caused their character to die. jake had you in his lap, gently rubbing your thighs as he rests his head on your back. humming occassionally whenever you leaned closer into his touch. 

“can you ask them to leave.. i wanna be alone with you.” he whispers into your ear. 

“why can’t you do it..” you whisper back and he explains that if you tell everyone to go home they’ll listen because you’re a girl but if he does it they’ll all just ignore him and want to continue game night. you think about it for a second and he’s absolutely right. so you give him a nod and a small kiss on the forehead to which jake gets flustered and shy over, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he blushes at your actions. 

you decide to stand up and do an exaggerated yawn, “gosh, i’m exhausted, what time is it?” you say, looking over to the clock on the wall and just like that– the guys take the hint and start packing up all of the things. they each help with putting things in the kitchen to throw away or to be washed and soon enough they were all saying their goodbyes and filing out of your shared apartment with jake. 

“finally.. i can have you all to myself.”  jake says, a pout on his lips as he pulls you into a hug. he brings the two of you to your bedroom, not letting go of you once. you try to get out of his grasp but he begins to whine and pout, “relax, jaeyunnie. i’m just turning off the lights.” you say and he jumps up from his spot on the bed, running over to the lightswitch and flicking it off before running back to bed and cuddling up to you. 

he nuzzles his head on your shoulder as the two of you cozy up to one another, placing several kisses on your neck and cheek. “i wanna stay like this forever.” he says. you just love whenever he gets like this, so cute and lovey dovey. his ears and cheeks a shade of red from the alcohol and his need to express how much he loved you and loved being near you. 

“goodnight jakey..” you say, waiting for him to say it back but you’re met with the sound of his snores, causing you to chuckle, pulling your phone out and snapping a photo of how cute he looked while sleeping, ears still red and his face slightly buried in the crook of your neck. 

jake, your cute and lovey dovey boyfriend.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys with reader who has a silly collection of stickers and puts them over their faces, their suits or their weapons (most of them with silly encouraging phrases to cheer them up lol)

Dick

He bought you a set of stickers once and ever since it’s been his ultimate downfall but in the most humorous way possible.

Dick has a sense of humour, he didn’t mind a couple of stickers here and there, even going so far as to keep the cute cartoon mushroom stickers that you’ve left on his escrema sticks as your personal touch on his belongings.

He even once woke up to a face full of them and when he asked your reasoning as to why, you only shrugged your shoulders and said ‘I thought it’d be funny to see how many stickers I can put on your face without waking you up.’

Dick takes the whole thing in stride and in good faith and loves the fact that you went out of your way to cheer him up through your cute but inspirational stickers. It was almost as though you knew that he needed a little pick me up that day and did so tenfold by coating his hands in stickers that reminded him of your deep care for him and his mental health.

So nowadays Dick doesn’t mind waking up just to see his face covered in stickers and instead smiles and goes about his daily routine as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jason removed his red helmet from his hand and could only stare at the stickers that littered across the sides and back either a blank stare as Roy practically pissed himself with laughter.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, how did I not see this?’ Jason muttered under his breath, scratching at sticker of a cartoon Robin holding a stick in its beak.

‘Oh there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a little self expression Jason,’ Roy snickered, ‘but I didn’t peg you as the type to collect stickers and cute ones at that.’ He then points to a particular sticker on his helmet of a cat hanging from a branch followed by the saying; just hang in there.

‘piss off.’ Jason told him. He knew something was a miss but didn’t know what it was and now that he knew, everything was starting to make a bit more sense. For starters you didn’t kiss his helmet like you usually did before he left of patrol, almost as though you didn’t want to ruin something on his helmet that he didn’t see, at least not at that point in time.

He should’ve known because you’ve pulled this stint with his guns before in the past but what you didn’t know was that he kept a few that were now a little worn and faded. So while he appear a little peeved that you have took it upon yourself to decorate his helmet, he was a sentimental guy deep down who loved anything and everything you’ve given him and treasures it with his entire heart.

Jason’s a secret sap when it comes to you and knows that he’ll come to laugh at all this at a later date as he recalls all of it to you when he comes home, already envisioning your reaction when he’d inevitably calls you out on it, knowing that he could never stay mad at you for very long. He physically couldn’t and refuses to when all you were trying to do was lift his spirits.

You were too sweet for him but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Damian

Wants you to take them off at first, how was he meant to be taken seriously if he was covered head to toe in stickers, ridiculous.

He thinks them childish unfortunately

However when you do stop putting your stickers across every one of his belongings for a brief stint, he begins to realise the true intended purpose behind them, and would begin to leave subtle hints that he wanted you to go back to coating everything he owned in stickers in his own way of apologising.

He’s stubborn but he cares for you and what you meant to him and if planting stickers on the sheath of his sword on the premise to uplift his spirits, then who was he to stop you from doing so. He wasn’t use to someone going out of their way to try and cheer him up and was more use to isolating himself from everyone in his room and just draw out his innermost feelings.

So you covering his face, suit and or weapons with stickers with cute and uplifting words was something he needed time to get use to, but once he does he tries to keep the stickers that had long served their purpose within the pages of his sketch pad as a keepsake of your thoughtfulness towards him.

This portion of his sketch pad is kept under a lot of secrecy on his part but you find it eventually because of course you do.

Damian wasn’t use to someone caring about him as much as you did and in a more unique way than littering the hilt of his sword in stickers made to make his day just that a little better. Damian, much like Jason, keeps a sticker or two on his weapons but in places where it would be harder for others to spot and would run his thumb over it whenever he felt that he needed your presence.

Tim doesn’t mind you putting stickers on his stuff, he’s pretty much unbothered by it and would just accept the fact that this was your way of saying that you’re thinking of him and his well-being. Tim knew you well enough to understand what you were trying to say through your stickers from the stickers you used consistently.

However due to his egregious sleep schedule lead to many instances where he would wake up to his face covered entirely in stickers, and at first he thought it was the lack of sleep that was making him see things but soon realised that his face was indeed covered in stickers, and would silently stare at you through the mirror as you tried hard not to laugh.

He threatens to plaster your face with stickers next time, he does follow up on his promise but that’s a story for another time.

To Tim it was almost as if you had just made up an entirely new way of communication through stickers, he’s even got them categorised based on their subliminal messages and what you were trying to tell him through them.

He appreciates the stickers and would even find himself smiling at them on the odd occasion and run his fingers over them gingerly as to not accidentally peel one of them off. He loved your unique way of cheering him up and would get a little sad when he sees that someone them were starting to fade or become worn, only to feel a warmth spread throughout his chest when he saw new stickers next to the places of the old ones.

Each and every sticker had it’s sentimental significance to him and if Tim were to ever find out that you didn’t have anymore stickers to spare, he would buy you more sets and act like he didn’t have any part in this despite the parcel having his name on it.

[tmpestuous]

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’) 

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.” 

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up. 

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times. 

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night. 

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position. 

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom. 

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in. 

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all. 

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair. 

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up. 

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time. 

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough. 

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

[eu-nicola]

everything but casual

summary: a "casual" love between you and rafe

warnings: angst (?)

word counter: 1194

author's note: english is not my first language, i was inspired by a tiktok post

The first time he kissed you, it was almost by accident. You were at one of those beach parties that stretched on until the early hours, surrounded by bodies moving to the rhythm of the music and the scent of the fire mixed with cheap alcohol. Rafe was with his usual group, the same ones who always strutted around as if the whole world was their playground. There was no apparent reason for him to pay you any attention that night. You weren’t part of his circle, not even close. You were just another girl, a friend of a friend who had ended up at the party by pure chance.

But then, when his blue eyes found you in the crowd, something shifted.

You were standing by the fire, hugging yourself to fend off the cool night air. You saw him approach with that lopsided grin he always wore, as if he knew something you didn’t. You didn’t greet him; you had no reason to. But he stopped right in front of you, a beer in hand, leaning in just enough for his words to stay between the two of you.

“And you? Always this quiet, or just when I’m around?”

Your laughter was immediate, more out of surprise than the comment itself. You didn’t even know he knew your name, much less that he had noticed your silence in the few times you’d crossed paths.

“I didn’t know you needed my attention, Cameron,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

That seemed to please him. Or maybe it was the alcohol starting to take effect, but the next thing you knew, his face was dangerously close to yours. And then, he kissed you. There was no warning, no preamble, just the heat of his lips on yours, the taste of beer and something else you couldn’t quite place but left you wanting more.

Nothing else happened that night. You didn’t even talk much after the kiss. But something lingered in the air, a palpable tension that didn’t fade. And when you saw him again a few days later, he acted as if nothing had happened.

That’s how it all began. No promises, no declarations, just stolen moments at parties, glances that lingered too long, and the feeling that whenever you were near him, the world got a little smaller and a lot more intense.

At first, you kept it simple. You thought that’s all it would be: a casual fling, something to pass the time. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who wanted anything serious, and you didn’t want to complicate your life either. But then things started happening that didn’t align with the idea of something casual.

Like the night he took you to his favorite spot on the beach, far from everyone else, and talked to you about his father. It wasn’t something he did with just anyone, you knew that. There was a weight in his words, a vulnerability he hadn’t planned to show you so soon.

“My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid,” he said, staring at the horizon. His voice was low, as if he was speaking to you from a deeply buried part of himself.

You didn’t know what to say. You just looked at him, letting him continue.

“It’s complicated. It was always complicated with him.” He paused, then turned to you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t identify. Sadness, maybe. Or something deeper.

He spoke about how his relationship with Ward had always been a push and pull, how he admired and hated him at the same time. And then, without warning, he took your hand. It was a simple gesture, but it meant something. You felt it in the way he lightly squeezed your fingers, as if he needed to make sure you were there, that you weren’t going to leave.

That was the first moment you started questioning everything.

If it was a casual relationship, why did he seek you out for moments like this? Why did he call you when he couldn’t sleep or text you at midnight just to say he wanted to see you?

Of course, he kept insisting it wasn’t serious. He told his friends, anyone who asked. ‘It’s a casual thing, no strings attached,’ he’d say, with that grin he always used as a shield. And every time you heard it, something inside you broke a little more.

But then there was everything else.

There was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were the only person in the world. There was the way he whispered, ‘I love you,’ in the most unexpected moments, tangled up with you in bed, the words caught between his lips and your skin.

“I love you, you know?” His voice was soft, almost inaudible, but enough for you to hear it. Then he kissed you with an intensity that almost made you forget everything else.

There was the way he called you ‘my love’ in the mornings, his voice raspy from sleep, holding you like he didn’t want to let you go.

So, what were you to him?

That question haunted you more than you wanted to admit. And even though you tried not to dwell on it, you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever. Because, even though Rafe seemed determined to keep up the facade of something casual, his actions told a different story. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending it didn’t matter to you.

The moment that hurt you the most, however, was when he took you to his father’s house before he died. You had only been seeing each other for two weeks, if it could even be called dating. But that day, he insisted you go with him.

“I want you to meet someone,” he said, offering no further explanation.

When you arrived, Ward Cameron was there, imposing and evaluating you with his gaze. The conversation was brief, but the gesture meant more than Rafe seemed willing to admit.

Weeks later, when Ward died, Rafe took you with him to scatter the ashes. It was just the two of you, and though he didn’t say much, his hands shook as he held the urn.

“I don’t know why I brought you here,” he murmured after a long silence.

But you knew. He brought you because, even though he’d never admit it, he needed you by his side.

And that was the most confusing part of all.

And despite everything, you stayed. Because even though it broke your heart, you couldn’t help but hope that one day, he’d be able to admit what you truly were to each other.

A few days later, after another cycle of confusion, you fall into bed with him again. He collapses beside you, immediately wrapping his strong arms around your sweaty body, pulling you close to his warm, bare chest. The room is silent, except for the echoes of your heavy breathing, which gradually slow as the sweat on your skin cools in the night air drifting through the windows.

At first, there are no words between you, because none are needed. His fingers begin to slowly trail over your bare skin, tracing every curve, every hollow, as if he’s trying to memorize you. It’s such a soft, reverent touch that it almost hurts.

You curl closer to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. From there, you can hear the steady beat of his heart: constant, firm, almost comforting. That sound always calms you, as if for a moment, nothing else exists in the world but this space, this bed, and his arms around you.

Once again, you’d ended up in his room after a dinner that should have been normal. That was always the excuse. Eating together, laughing a bit, acting as if there was nothing unusual about how you both gravitated toward each other. But it always ended here, tangled in messy sheets, with passion sparking like a flame you couldn’t resist. There was something inevitable about the two of you, as if everything else in the world blurred, and only these stolen moments existed.

What confused you the most was how each time felt less casual. At first, it was easy to convince yourself it was just chemistry, an undeniable physical attraction. But then came moments like this. Moments where the weight of his arms around you felt more like a promise than a mere gesture.

"I love you."

His voice is so calm, so low, that for a moment you think you imagined it. It was so soft, so natural, as if the words had simply escaped without him planning them. You freeze slightly, and he notices.

You lift your head to look at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, any indication that he didn’t mean it. But his eyes meet yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before, as if he’s waiting for your reaction, as if he’s finally dropped the mask.

"What did you say?" you ask in a whisper, even though you already know the answer.

"I love you," he repeats, this time more firmly, as if he wants to make sure there’s no doubt. And he says it so honestly, with a sincerity that breaks you a little inside because suddenly, everything makes sense. Every glance, every gesture, every night spent in this bed or in his arms. It was always this.

Your heart pounds, and emotion wells up in your throat in a way you can’t control. Your eyes sting, but you’re not sure if it’s happiness or fear overwhelming you. Maybe both.

"I love you too, Rafey," you finally reply, and the words come easier than you expected because it’s the truest thing you’ve felt in a long time.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. His eyes shine with something you can’t quite decipher, and before you can say anything else, he pulls you closer. His lips press a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head as he wraps you even tighter, as if he wants to shield you from the rest of the world.

You feel complete. For the first time in what feels like forever, everything fits. His body, his arms, the warmth of his skin against yours… everything feels like a home you didn’t even know you were looking for. And as you hold onto him, you can’t help but believe this is where you belong, where you were always meant to be.

He doesn’t say anything else, but his hands continue to trace soft patterns on your back, as if he can’t stop, as if he needs to reassure himself you’re really there. You know he’s not the kind of person to say those words lightly. Saying “I love you” for him is like removing his armor: dangerous, risky, and yet, he did it. And that makes it all the more meaningful.

You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the moment because, deep down, you know those words don’t change the complications that have always existed between you. But for now, it doesn’t matter. For now, you’re here, in his arms, and that’s all you need.

And he feels the same. You sense it in the way he holds you, as if he never wants to let you go. As if this is the only place where you can both truly be yourselves, without masks or pretenses. As if, for once, you’re perfect. Forever.