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#what were those writer smoking ?
melarooon · 1 year
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Not a single day goes by where I don’t think about Mr. Penn canonically being a adult baby
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folkvangr-seidr · 2 months
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You're a bad idea.
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Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader
Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?
a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times. hope you enjoy!
You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.
You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.
Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.
More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.
Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.
She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.
The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?
So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.
Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?
God, she needed some sleep.
_________
You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.
You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.
"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.
You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.
You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.
Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.
You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.
You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.
"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.
You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.
"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.
You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.
Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.
You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.
_________
Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.
You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.
"What do you want from me?" you asked.
She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.
"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"
Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.
"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.
She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.
Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.
You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.
_________
You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.
"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.
You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.
You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.
Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.
You liked the solitude of it.
So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.
"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.
"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.
You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.
"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.
Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.
"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.
And she sounded so sure of it.
Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.
"So pretty…" she said.
Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.
"Fuck" she whimpered.
You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.
"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.
"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.
You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.
You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.
She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.
The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.
"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.
And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.
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jaylver · 1 month
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ROCKLAND — P.SH
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synopsis: almost like a nightmare, park sunghoon plagues your present just as much as your past regrets had done. however, this time around, you and him decided to right your wrongs one last time.
pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader
genre: exes to lovers, miscommunications, angst, second chance romance
warning(s): profanities, brief mentions of smoking, drinking, partying and alcohol
wc: 8k
a/n: i'm BACK. this has been in the works for far too long because of the constant writer's block so i'm not sure if it's good or not, plus it's my first exes to lovers so please be nice <3 greatly inspired by gracie abram's "rockland", so do give it a listen too! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
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If there was one thing you’d regret forever in this lifetime, it would be ending things with the love of your life.
You admit it, you’re selfish. Selfish for wanting to leave the town you grew to hate, selfish for prioritising yourself and chasing your dreams, choosing to leave the people you loved instead. Painted a villain in the eyes of many close to the person you once went home to and even the man himself. But, how could he fully blame you when he was equally selfish too?
Park Sunghoon thought keeping you in the cage of this small town was going to make him a happy man. He often fantasised about the possibility of you and his future together, completely pushing aside the thought of you leaving, until it actually happened.
He was angry. He let himself be consumed by his own feelings and mindlessly projecting his anger and blame on you, while you regretfully did the same.
Pools of tears and venomous words spewed out of impulse left you scarred and broken down. It was a bad ending that you’d see in movies coming to life. The moment you had everything packed and goodbyes said, you figured leaving was for the best, now that your ex hates you and his friends who probably felt the same. 
It was a shame, though. Heading to somewhere far from home with a heavy heart knowing you didn’t have the chance to see him once more. Frankly, you were a coward, and so was he.
That explained why returning back home was the scariest thing you had to face in a while. 
It was ironic, wasn't it? Coming back to the place you wished for years to escape and actually doing so, but eventually having to return after you dropped out of the college that you've been praying and praying to get into, only for it to be overwhelming and the city lights couldn't compare to the starry night of your hometown.
You suppose you got the thing you wanted, but it just wasn't what you imagined.
Freshly twenty-two and out of school, you figured home was what you needed in your next step before deciding if you should re enrol. However, you find yourself not having the guts to face your family and friends, not after the promises turned out to be empty. 
"You should quit smoking," 
Yunjin, your cousin and practically your closest friend growing up, was just a distance away when you spotted her, leaning against her car with a cigarette in hand. You found it amusing how she didn't cave into vapes instead in this day and age. 
"Y/N!" She pushed the bud of her half smoked cigarette into the wall, then started jogging towards you, her dress flowing in the wind and boots making obnoxious clicks against the ground. There was a sense of relief in her eyes, her usual smile that you missed graced your presence. "God, I missed you, things aren't the same without you here,"
In the span of a few seconds of her hug, you took the chance to digest her words. Did that mean the traditions you've upheld are now gone? Parties, trips to the beach, all those? 
"What?"
Yunjin pulled away, still managing a small smile. "I don't think things were ever the same since you left … and after you broke up with Sunghoon,"
You blinked, looking away into the distance. "I don't think I'll be welcomed,"
Yunjin scoffed, slapping your arm and scurrying to get your bags. "Don't say that! So not true. Everyone in the family is waiting for you to be back—"
"And talk behind my back about my failure in graduating? Yeah, no,"
‘‘That’s not going to happen,” Yunjin sighed, struggling with your bags and declining your help, but you still forcefully grabbed some knowing she’d eventually crumble. “I think they’ll get it,”
Would they?
Once you are settled into the car, bags successfully loaded into the trunk, you let yourself melt into the comforts of Yunjin’s passenger seat, finally getting to close your eyes and drift away. You thought it was best before having to face everything and everyone once again.
“What’s your plan now, anyway?”
Without opening your eyes, you envisioned a distant image in your head. “Take my time off and see if I’d like to re enrol or not. If I don’t, I’ll just go plan B,”
“Which is?”
“Accept the job offer in London,”
Yunjin almost hit the brakes out of shock, the news that came from you felt like it had hit her in the face, but somehow, she managed to keep her cool and not get you both killed. “What?” she shrieked.
“What?” you questioned back, sounding nonchalant as if this was just another normal offer that didn’t seem particularly significant. But it was.
“You have a job offer in London and you’re coming back here,”
“I left the city for a reason, it’d be stupid to go to another one right after,”
Yunjin exhaled, blinking in stupor. “Right,”
“How’s … everyone?”
Yunjin knew you weren’t referring to your family. Of course you’d know how your own family was doing, that’s a no brainer. What you were trying to mean was your old friend group. You couldn’t blame them for being mad at you, after all you were only a part of it because of Sunghoon.
“Heeseung’s graduating soon,” this was the first update you’ve gotten from Yunjin after those years away. It took you every will not to ask her about them, but here you were now, finally giving in. “They’re still the same, nothing’s changed,”
“What about him?”
Yunjin seemed hesitant, obviously holding back something that she didn’t want you to know. “I’m not going to explode upon hearing, you know that, right?” you joked lightheartedly, but secretly dreading hearing about him.
“I think he’s seeing someone,”
“Good for him,” 
Would it be a crime to admit that you still missed your ex? Something in you was wishing you could rekindle a connection again now that you’re back, but all that hope shattered. If he had already moved on, why couldn’t you? Even after knowing how he probably hated and resented you for doing what you did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to hate him back. 
“That’s all?”
“You want me to go full crazy ex mode? You’re insane,” you shook your head, smiling a little, hoping Yunjin didn’t notice the speck of sadness swimming in your irises. “Whoever she is, I’m sure that I would like her … if I were slightly nicer,”
She let out a ‘tch’ in response, though grinning. “What are you going to do with them around? There’s no way you’d be able to fully avoid them,”
“What can I do? I’ll just have to coexist.”
Coexist was a funny word. How were you able to do that when you couldn’t even fully get over Sunghoon in the first place? Thinking about meeting him in flesh already made you feel like doubling over and projectile vomit. That was how pathetic you were, what a shame. 
Settling in was easy. It was natural to be back home, way better than being in the noisy city and constantly surrounded by a bunch of fake friends. The question of why you left in the first place started burning your mind as you tossed around trying to sleep, but it only persisted to bug you. Then came the thoughts of Sunghoon and the friends you left behind, which prompted you to be fully awake, sitting up in bed.
It wasn't the greatest idea to reach for your phone and search for his contact name, just to recall the day you deleted his number. Yet, your memory never failed you, remembering the digits like it was first instinct, fingers already typing his number. Your thumb hovered over the green call button, a haze in your mind.
Inevitably, you shut your phone and dug your head into your pillow. He would've laughed then, if he had seen this happen, the exact moment of you almost caving in and finally saying the sorry you never gave him.
The pictures you saw of him on social media here and there made you wonder how he was and if he had already forgotten about you. There were a few recurring appearances of a girl that seemed to linger by his side in group pictures that caught your eyes. Who took your bed when you left? Who laughed at everything that he said? Was it that girl?
Just like the time you first had a crush on Sunghoon, you stayed awake thinking about him, except this time around, you were filled with regret instead of hope. 
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"Heeseung asked me about you,"
Yunjin's random confession in the middle of the day had surprised you. Lee Heeseung, the best friend of your ex who you swore hated your guts, asked about you? Shocker.
"What did you say?"
"I said something along the lines of you figuring out life and just chilling here until the time comes," Yunjin shrugged, and you nodded slowly. "But there's something he said that made me a bit … confused?"
"What?"
"He said they wanted to see you again," 
You raised your eyebrows, a hint of scepticism flashed over your eyes. "They want to see me? Tell me a better joke next time, thanks,"
"I'm not joking! I mean, he did say excluding Sunghoon, but the other guys wanted to know how you were now that you're back," Yunjin winced a little at the mention of your ex, but you waved it off.
"Are they treating me to dinner or something?"
"Well … no. But Heeseung asked me to bring you to their next party, which is in a few days," Yunjin's gaze softened, hand patting your back. "You know you don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean, after all that happened with you and them and Sunghoon,"
You let out a small sigh, absentmindedly fidgeting your fingers. "It's all in the past now. I'm sure Sunghoon has moved on with another girl, and maybe—just maybe—the guys do hate me less."
You never went to that party Yunjin mentioned.
It was hard to admit but you knew, deep inside you, you were afraid, too cowardly to face the people you once knew. Instead, you chose to linger around like a lost soul in a town full of the ghosts of your past. 
It didn't help that the party was also in Sunghoon's house. How did they expect you to go in the first place? You thought you'd never step foot in there after you broke it off with him, and you were adamant on keeping it that way, but your heart got the worst of you.
On the night of the party, you drove around the neighbourhood, eventually stopping across the street of his house. You didn't know what got to you to do so, but you guessed reminiscence and bright lights coming from the house were the reason. The music was loud, people were coming in and out of the house, and the only thing you could think of was him.
That thought alone was enough to have you drive away, leaving the house further and further away into the background just as the memories of him being pushed into the back of your mind.
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Rotting in your bed wasn't how your early 20s were meant to be spent, and avoiding almost everyone most definitely wasn't the case either.
Your family and Yunjin were the only people you saw daily, as for the friends you once had, they were long forgotten or didn't even bother to reach out. Except for Heeseung and the others.
That, to you, was a really funny thing to think about. People who stuck by you after the break up and swore to be your closest friends didn't try contacting you once you moved back, knowing damn well word traveled fast in the town; whereas the friends you thought hated you were the first to reach out.
"I'll go to that party," you said to Yunjin on a sunny afternoon tanning session by the pool, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, hiding the apprehension in your eyes.
"Really?" Yunjin almost jumped out of her seat. It was a party she had brought up days ago, still persistent on taking you out. At least this time around, it wasn't in Sunghoon's house, but her friend Chaewon's. "That's great! Chaewon and the girls are super nice, you'll love them. Let's pick a nice outfit for you, okay?"
Yunjin was by far the most enthusiastic one between you and her. She was picking out dresses and tops, literally rummaging through your closet for anything, and you had to remind her it was just a college party. So, you settled for a skirt and a plain top. 
"Will you be okay? I'll stick by you," Yunjin had her arms around you, standing by the front door of Chaewon's house, hearing the music blaring from the inside.
"I'm fine—I think I'll be fine—I just don't want to run away from everyone anymore," it was mostly true, you thought it was inevitable to hide all the time, that wasn't how you're going to spend your life living.
"If there's anything, tell me, okay? We'll leave if you're getting sick," Yunjin gave your arm a final squeeze of assurance before crossing the threshold. 
It was the same as every party you've gone to. Loud music, drunk college kids, liquor and beers strayed around, it reeked of your nightmare in a nutshell there. 
Yunjin's friends were all as lovely as she had promised. The host herself was wobbling on her feet but managed to grace you with her humour. There was Sakura and Kazuha that you learned were foreign students. 
Throughout the night, you were stuck by Yunjin, going from circle to circle and introducing yourself or recognising some of your past school mates. But, almost inevitably so, Heeseung, Jay and Jake had made an appearance too.
"Y/N," Jay was the first to call your name, causing you to turn your head at the familiar voice. 
Your thoughts during then were jumbled into a mess. The people you were fighting to avoid were standing in front of you, all of which were much different than the memories you had of them in mind. 
Three of them had grown taller, gained some muscles and matured in many ways. Jay's hair was dyed pink, Heeseung got new piercings and Jake had a tattoo on his finger. It was strange to admit they're the same people you knew despite feeling the complete opposite of familiarity.
"Hey—" you were cut off by Jay closing in and pulling you into a hug, this for once was something you remembered about him.
"We're so glad you're back," he whispered into your hair, squeezing you tight. It reminded you then that you were friends with him and the guys before you even dated Sunghoon, that connection was deeper than it seemed, and for it to be severed just because of a breakup was gut wrenching to realise. "We're sorry, Y/N, we're so sorry,"
His apology was genuine, that's for sure. Once you pull away, you let both Heeseung and Jake take turns to hug you, whispering apologies into your ear. It was odd, to accept their apologies and having to start afresh. You held onto them, just taking it in. To forgive was a big step, but maybe it was your first step.
You sat there, catching up with them and slowly getting comfortable just like the old days. Heeseung graduated and got a good job offer, Jay and Jake were still studying, both of which were in the same university. You were relieved there was nothing too awkward between you and them, or else you would have regretted your choices.
The night continued on with a few small talks and eventually you had to excuse yourself to the toilet. You wondered how Chaewon's house was so big, with halls that seemed to never end, or it could just be the effects of alcohol.
Stumbling around, you held onto the walls, passing by rooms occupied by people probably doing something unspeakable. You thought your peace of mind would be intact until the end of the night, but you were wrong. Upon turning a corner, you froze.
It was Sunghoon. It was him.
Grief was a funny feeling, especially when it comes to someone you once knew. You stared at him and there he was, like a ghost from your past coming back to haunt you. He was the shell of the person you loved, and you couldn't help but grieve the person he once was. What was he like now? 
Before you could even turn around and make a run for it, his wandering eyes landed on you. He had the same thought process as you. Realisation, panic, sadness, confusion all mixed into a heap of feelings. 
Your feet started moving on its own, as you stepped back, he took a step forward. Your breath became ragged, heart thumping hard and blood pumping in your ears. He was nearing, and you were running away, it was the same as before.
"Y/N!" He called out, and all it took was him to say your name again to have you stop in your tracks. Gosh, you were pathetic.
He was standing before you now, closer than he was a moment ago. It was then you realised how much he had changed too. 
He was taller, smile lines etched much deeper into his face, almost changing along the same wavelengths with the others. There was something different about the way he looked at you, however. From love in his eyes that eventually changed into hatred was now filled with longing and confusion.
"Y/N," he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice, as if he couldn't believe you were there. 
"Sunghoon," you blinked, a frown unknowingly making its way to your face. You let a few beats of silence pass, conflicted and nervous. "I—I should leave,"
"No—!" his hand reached out for you, but you didn't feel his touch. He didn't dare to touch you, letting his hand linger before pulling it back to his side. "I mean, you don't have to leave,"
"I thought you hate me,"
Sunghoon's gaze fell to the floor, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He met your eyes once more. "I should hate you, shouldn't I? But I don't think I do, I never did,"
You blinked, a little surprised, a little hurt. All along he had made you think he hated your guts but he actually didn't? "Oh," you seemed to have lost the ability to talk or to compute a proper sentence.
You thought of the things you wanted to ask him. If he was still angry at you or if things were working for him. But, what came out was the question you've stored in the back of your mind instead.
"Are you with someone new?"
You figured he didn't expect such a question from you, much as you didn't expect yourself saying it. It was an itching thought, one that made you look like a typical ex, but you couldn't help it.
"I'm not," he sounded almost exasperated, as if having to squash down this rumour for the thousandth time.
"Oh … oh," you didn't know what to say, averting your gaze away from him and finding comfort in the wall behind him. 
Sunghoon paused, gaze following yours, looking reluctant whether or not to continue the conversation, but alas, he did. "How have you been?"
"Bad," you laughed a little, and Sunghoon's ears perked at the sound of it that he hasn't heard for ages. "You?"
"I quit skating,"
That was surprising. How could he have? Skating was his dream, his past, present and supposed future, but now, it came crashing down. You didn't know if you should feel sorry for him, as you have been a part of his journey, but one bit of you also seemed to have started mourning the changed Sunghoon that stood before you.
"Why?"
He shrugged, hands slipping into his pocket with a solemn look. "I lost interest. I'm into music now, I'm in a band with the guys,"
You heaved a breath, a deep one. Ironic it was that he was doing music now when he was the one criticising you in the past for wanting to pursue it. Who even was this person? With a new appearance came a new personality, he was much further away than you thought despite the physical distance.
"You've changed," you didn't know what prompted you to say that, maybe it was the disbelief or the denial that he was someone new, but whatever it was, neither of you could deny the fact that he did change. "I'm scared of the person you've become,"
A beat passed, an unreadable expression on Sunghoon's face that you couldn't distinguish even though by now you thought you'd know every one of them. 
"And I'm scared you're still the same."
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Seeing Sunghoon that night seemed to have altered something in your life. Somehow, he was everywhere you went. 
Who was working at the register? Sunghoon. Who was at the park? Sunghoon. Who was at the party Yunjin managed to drag you to? Sunghoon.
It was haunting.
All those little encounters didn't mean you talked to him like normal, though. The awkward tension in the air still remained, seeing each other only reminded you and him both of your pasts, and you hated it. That explained why you were having a hard time seeing him at another party you were at.
Yunjin was much more of a party goer than you expected, and she successfully convinced you to go to all of them. It was fun until you got drunk and started being emotional. Your efforts of hiding from Sunghoon that night failed when he barged into the empty room you were sobbing in, whether it was accidental or not, you didn't know, you wished to not know.
"Y/N?"
His voice brought back the times he called your name. Both the good and bad ones. You stared up at him from the ground, tears welling your eyes. The person you were looking at was someone you thought was a soulmate, but now stood as someone closer to a stranger than a friend.
"W–what are you doing here? Why are you crying?"
The alcohol messing with your brain was processing his words, but what came out from your lips was the total opposite of an answer. "I'm sorry, Hoonie," 
Sunghoon's eyes widened at the nickname, the privilege that only you had. He kneeled down, taking a seat on the ground opposite you, a visible distance in between.
"I hate this—us—I feel like if we gave it one night, to talk, to just feel—you'd hate me less and make it alright," you choked back the sobs building up in your throat, the dizziness making you unaware of how Sunghoon reached out only to hesitate and pressed his hand back to his side. "Just wish that we could fight now, I'd hold you on the comedown …" your voice faltered, head leaning onto the wall.
"Y/N, you're drunk, we can talk this out another day," Sunghoon striped off his jacket and covered your exposed thighs with it. "Just … don't avoid me. I–I don't hate you, I just hope we can have a decent conversation without thinking about the past,"
He admitted it, how the two of you had secretly been thinking about the past, letting it be a big wall in between instead of growing from it. Yet, you could tell the unspoken anger and sadness still lingered, choosing to pour out gradually and unknowingly.
"Bet you wish you never even met me," you started slurring, hand gripping onto his jacket tightly. "I can't blame you, I broke your every heartbeat," your eyes were shut, images playing in your mind, not knowing the saddened look dawning on Sunghoon's face.
"Let's get you back."
In your sleep that night, you saw him. He was there, so far yet so close, and just like reality, he was hard to reach, harder to understand compared to before. He was a knife cutting deep, leaving a mark that constantly reminded you of the past. 
How could you even make everything go back to the way it was?
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Sunghoon was on your front door step the night everyone was out for dinner except you. 
You hadn't expected him to turn up, thinking it'd be you that stood at his doorstep instead as you still had his jacket from that party (which you do not want to think about again).
"Sunghoon. Hey," the door was opened and you leaned against it, trying your best at hiding the hint of pining in your gaze. 
"Oh, hey," he greeted back rather stiffly, dressed in a simple attire with the classic white Lacoste sneakers that he always wore. "I–I wanted to—"
"Take your … jacket?" You cut him off half way, nerves wrecking your brain.
A beat passed, Sunghoom visibly gulped. "Y–Yeah, my jacket,"
"I'll go grab it for you," you jerked your thumb over your shoulder, awkwardly scurrying back in to retrieve his jacket and coming back to see him chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly nervous. "Here. Thanks for it,"
"No problem," Sunghoon coughed, grabbing the jacket but absolutely paying no mind to it. His stare was straight at you.
"That's all, right?"
"Yeah,"
"Yeah," you echoed, hating the sudden rigidness between the two of you. "Bye then, Sunghoon,"
"Bye," Sunghoon said, looking dazed. Weird.
You saw him backing away and decided to close the door, but before you could even do so, a force had stopped you from closing it. Not a force, much rather a hand, his hand. The door was pushed open, and you physically jumped at the suddenness of it. Your eyes met Sunghoon's sorrowful ones.
"Don't push me away, Y/N, not again,"
"Sunghoon," 
He made his way in, closing the door behind him and you let him. Was this seriously happening?
"You said you wanted to give us one night to talk, so I'm here now. I didn't care about the jacket, I cared about you. I hate seeing us like this, it's like we're strangers," Sunghoon let out a frustrated huff, eyebrows furrowed.
"We can't just pretend nothing has happened between us,"
"So you want me to hate you instead? You're saying as if it's easy, Y/N, feelings don't work that way!"
"Then how do we go back to how it was? We can't, that's the truth. You're not the same person I used to know,"
"Cut the bullshit. I'm the same as I was, maybe just a little different than I was years ago, but that doesn't change anything. When does that ever stop you from loving?"
Were you too scared to love?
Sunghoon ran his hand across his face, wetting his lips. "You’re scared of change, and I don’t think that’s something new about you,” 
Ouch.
“But I really wish you could let it all go. I don’t hate you, nor do I harbour any anger regarding the things that happened years ago. It hurts, it did, but seeing you now made me feel the opposite of all those emotions,” Sunghoon took a deep breath in, and you were holding yours. “I think about you a lot, actually. I regretted a lot of the things I said and done, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there for you and giving you the support you needed. I should've fought for us and not leave, I–I—" Sunghoon choked, unable to hold in his overpowering emotions anymore.
You didn’t say anything, instinctively closing in and pulling him into your arms, letting his head lie on your shoulder, ignoring the feeling of his warm tears soaking the fabric of your shirt. "I'm sorry too, for leaving you so easily,"
You stood there with Sunghoon in your arms, inevitably crying along and sobbing out your own apologies, the ones you had owed him and hidden all these years. He held you tight just as you did, and it felt like the nights he had you in his arms whenever you cried. You eventually calmed down whereas Sunghoon was still composing himself, avoiding your gaze.
You took the opportunity to hug him again, tighter and firmer this time, as if trying to stop him from running away. 
"Can we start over? I don't want us to be strangers," 
You heard a sniffle, then a shaky breath of relief. "I'd love to,"
Pulling away, you locked eyes with him. They were twinkling brighter than the stars in the skies outside, filled with a spark of hope. "I'll make us some hot tea. Do you want to … stay over?"
"Can I?"
"I really want you to."
It didn't take more to convince Sunghoon to stay, all you had to do was ask and he'd listen. 
That night, you and him hid in your room, talking for the whole night until the break of dawn. Nothing about the way he talked had changed, nor his laughter or the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled. He told you about the band and some side gigs, offering to bring you to some too. 
You laid there in bed laughing all night, occasionally peeking over the side of your bed to check up on him who slept on the extra mattress, only to meet his eyes and freeze. 
The red string of fate tying you and him together was beginning to reform.
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Not feeling dread every time you saw Sunghoon was a new start for you. In fact, you were glad to see him. 
The misunderstandings and complexity built up over the years were finally addressed, leaving you to peace and a small hope of rebuilding what you had with him. But you kept that thought away for now, holding onto the pieces you had at the moment.
"Come to one of my gigs," Sunghoon made a trip to your house on a random afternoon, a box of your favourite chocolate covered strawberries in his hand. He never forgot anything about you, didn't he?
"Are you bribing me or asking me?" You said despite accepting the box, your heart squeezing at the thought of him remembering the littlest details about you.
"I'm asking you but also offering a gift," he let himself in, almost like always, and you didn't even notice, just letting him do so. "I saw it and I thought of you so I got it,"
"Thanks," you waved the box a little, setting it down on the table and leaning slightly against it. "You still remember," 
His gaze softened. "Of course I do," his hand by his side was itching to reach out, but it never did, instead, he played it off by giving you a smile. "So, what do you say? This Saturday, watch our gig at the pub," 
"Are you singing?"
"I wish I did," he laughed, and you momentarily recalled the times you had karaoke sessions with him. Curse reminiscence. "I play the bass, Heeseung's the front man," 
You nodded slowly, picturing them as a band and smiling slowly. You've missed them, and it was then when you realised it. "I'll go,"
"Really?"
"Obviously, do you want me to say no?"
"Well, no," Sunghoon chuckled, quite literally unable to hide his excitement from the way he's grinning widely. "I'm just … glad, and surprised, and happy,"
You bit back a smile, shaking your head at him. "Text me the details, will you? I don't want to miss it."
Saturday rolled around quickly. You and Yunjin were sitting in a corner of the pub, beers on the table and whispering gossip about some of your high school classmates. High school might've ended years ago but gossip never stopped.
"Alright, folks, the next act is someone you already know, they are not strangers," the manager of the pub stepped onto the small stage, announcing Sunghoon and the guy's band. "Please welcome … April Nights!"
April? 
You bit your tongue, an odd feeling boiling in your stomach. April was the month you broke up with Sunghoon and left for university, it was more than just a coincidence for him and his band to have 'April' in their name. All you knew was the sinking feeling never went away.
"You alright?" Yunjin noticed your silence, casting a worried glance at you.
"April …" you mumbled, eyes staring straight ahead at Sunghoon who was setting up his bass on stage. "There must be something behind it,"
"What?"
"Nothing,"
You shook away that feeling currently eating up and put your focus on Sunghoon instead. It wasn't your first time watching him perform. It has always been him on ice in a big arena, but now it was him on a small stage at a dingy pub.
Sunghoon's eyes wandered all over the room, finally landing on you, a smile spreading on his pretty face. You managed a small smile, waving a little to let him know you're there, you're actually there and not a figment of his imagination, a dream that he has been wishing on for far too long.
The first song they played was an ABBA song. To be specific, it was your favourite ABBA song that you would listen to with Sunghoon in the past. Was it a coincidence?
You knew Heeseung had a vocal of stars, but to hear it for the first time in years was sending you into heaven. However, you failed to keep your focus on him, redirecting it to the bassist. You couldn't stop looking at Sunghoon, and his gaze wouldn't leave yours either. 
The second song soon came by, and at that point onwards, you knew it wasn't a coincidence. It only took two songs for you to realise that Sunghoon had prepared a set list of your favourite songs. The band was currently playing Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, a song you had loved ever since forever.
You shouldn't be feeling light headed, but you were.
The set ended almost a few hours later. It was filled with your favourite songs, undoubtedly. The whole time, you were truly holding your breath, especially when Sunghoon was holding your gaze.
While people were filing in and out of the pub gradually, you stayed. It was well past midnight and Yunjin's cheeks were pink from the alcohol, wandering off to join Heeseung and the others. You, on the other hand, were sober as hell, waiting for Sunghoon with nerve wrecking anticipation.
"Hey, hey, hey. How did we do?" Sunghoon slid into a seat like an apparition appearing out of thin air. You jumped a little, but melted into a smile at the sight of him.
"You guys were great," it was genuine, because they did do amazing, probably more than just amazing. "'April nights', an interesting name,"
Realisation dawned on Sunghoon's face, he swallowed thickly. "I—yeah. April was an interesting month,"
"The set list …"
"Right, the set list," he chuckled, shifting on his feet a little nervously and stiffly. "I figured since you're here I'll play some of your favourite songs,"
"Oh," you let out softly, not knowing what else to say, this was something you found yourself acting around Sunghoon now. "That's … nice,"
Sunghoon gouged your expressions and the tone of your voice, a slow frown etching onto his tired face. "Did you not … like it? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,"
"No, it's not that! I'm just—" you paused, thinking of an appropriate word to describe how you felt. Frankly, you didn't know your exact feelings. "—surprised and … confused?"
"Confused?"
"Sunghoon, we're exes, and you pulling this isn't exactly helping—this—" you gestured to the space between you and him. "Us,"
Sunghoon was silent for a moment, occasionally opening his mouth to say something just to close it before he could. "I—maybe I read it all wrong, I thought—you know what, forget it,"
"Don't. Just tell me," you reached over for him, but didn't touch his hand. "What are we? We're not exactly best friends nor are we enemies. I don't want any tension between us and I don't want you to think you have zero chance at all," you breathed, searching for his eyes. "I would want us to work out again, if that's what you want too,"
Sunghoon's eyes glistened with a spark of hope, relief washing over his face. It was an answer to his question. "I want us to work out. I want us to have another chance," his hand reached out for yours the first time since you've seen each other, feeling the warmth of his touch that you were no stranger to. He carefully and gently intertwined his hand with yours.
"We'll always find our way back to each other."
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It was odd but comforting to know that nothing has changed when it came to you and Sunghoon.
Sunghoon brought you to your favourite places, ate your favourite dishes, did your favourite activities as an attempt to rekindle everything back. Safe to say it was working.
Just like the first dates you had together, you felt yourself having the same bubbly feeling internally, the same giggles you caught yourself having after a stupid joke he made. Despite all that, over the course of a few weeks, it had you wondering about your relationship with him.
"Will you date him again?" Yunjin could tell you were struggling, even if you didn't say it, it was still quite evident.
"What's with the sudden question?"
"Well, considering he has taken you out on so many dates and still hasn't asked you to be his girlfriend again, I could tell you're troubled,"
"Okay, mind reader," you grumbled and shifted in your seat, hating how right she was. "He said he wanted to give us a chance again, so I was expecting that—you know—we'd get back together soon,"
"Your 'soon' seems a bit urgent, but I don't blame you," Yunjin shrugged, gaze softening at your words. "I can tell how much love there still is between the two of you. It's natural to gravitate towards each other, but time, time is what you need to heal the scars, Y/N. It's been years, give yourself time."
You suppose giving yourself time truly was what you needed. But when you mentally said you needed space, you didn't mean wanting Sunghoon to ignore you. 
That's right. He was ignoring you.
How did you know? Apparently, the hard way.
Calls, messages were all brushed aside. You didn't even see him physically. At one point, you considered him dead, but seeing him at a party proved to you that he wasn't.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
Cornering him was a challenge, but being headstrong and slightly buzzed, nothing could possibly stop you.
"Y/N?"
"Wow, I'm surprised you remember my name," you seethed, almost stumbling forward and throwing a punch at him. "So, we're playing the game where you get back at me and ghost me after all that we've been through lately? Sweet! Could've given me a head's up though,"
"What? You're the one who's planning to abandon me just like before!"
"What are you even saying?" 
"Your email, Y/N. I saw your email. How you have a big job in London and you just can't wait to join, throwing me away like a summer's fling right before you leave,"
"You're not making any sense, I'm not accepting that role!" You were heaving at anger at this point, matching the fumes emitting from Sunghoon's ears. "You dickhead! I'm literally throwing my dreams away and you're here thinking I'm leaving you again? Is that what you thought of first? Oh, maybe you could've just asked me, but you didn't, just like the past,"
Bringing up the past had triggered something not only in you but him. He blinked, keeping silent but chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek. 
"You never changed, huh?"
You heaved a deep breath, shaking your head a little, not to answer his question, but at him. 
"Well I guess that makes the both of us."
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"I fucked it up, didn't I?"
The night after the confrontation, you woke up on Yunjin's couch with a hangover thanks to your habit of drinking your problems away. Remembering Sunghoon's face and the feelings you felt literally had you shrivelling back into the couch, a deep frown etched on your face.
"Partly, yes, but mostly, no," you felt the couch dip beneath Yunjin's weight as she joined your side, a warm cup of coffee in her hand. "He fucked up first, but I think it's all just a big misunderstanding,"
"I don't we've healed from it," you took the cup from her and drank from it. "He's scared of me leaving and I was considering leaving again. Maybe we're just not meant to be,"
Yunjin sighed, moving her body closer to you and placing a comforting hand on yours. "If you're not leaving, that means you're staying, which also means you get to make it right. You get to have time to mend it all unlike the last time,"
"I have to make it right, don't I?"
A nod of confirmation from Yunjin was all you needed to know your next step. So, you decided to show up at his gig in the same exact pub without thinking through it twice.
"He's not here tonight," Heeseung looked thoroughly puzzled by your sudden appearance, and it seemed none of them knew about the small altercation you had with Sunghoon. 
"Really?"
"Yeah, he's been acting a bit … off. We asked him to take a night off, maybe you should give him a call."
If only it was that easy. 
Walking back home with a dejected heart was not the plan you had in mind. A part of you even thought this was truly the end, maybe he reached the conclusion of going no contact and you have no choice but to accept it. Was this karma?
It didn't help that you walked past the park that you and Sunghoon used to run off to back in the past.  The exact bench which you and him sat on still resided there. Your curious mind led your legs towards it, taking a seat and remembering all the memories you shared with him. 
Being alone under the night sky and getting accompanied by the dim light coming from the street lamp had given you a chance to rethink your choices about coming back home, whether it was worth it to see Sunghoon once again and try for the closure you never got. Well, look where it got you now.
The ruffles of the leaves got you snapping your head towards the direction of the noise, but it only landed on a figure.
"Y/N?"
You squinted, waiting until the figure walked under the streetlamp to distinguish that it was … Sunghoon. You should be feeling glad now that he was there in front you, but why were you feeling the exact opposite?
"Sunghoon? W–what are you doing here?" You stood up, watching him getting closer, the anguish in his face was clear.
"I–I … I went to look for you," he started, carefully and slowly inching closer until there's a comfortable distance between you both. "You weren't home and I thought … that was it,"
That was a fatal flaw you and him shared, wasn't it?
"I went to the pub to look for you too," your voice came out in a hushed whisper, breathing becoming ragged. "And you weren't there, so I thought … I thought it was the end too,"
"Fuck's sake, I know I said this many times but I'm sorry, Y/N," he sounded desperate, apologetic and almost exasperated. "I'm sorry for assuming things and ignoring you, I guess I never really got rid of the avoiding thing. I'm just … scared of you leaving me and I can't accept it again,"
"I'm not leaving, Hoonie," you were the first to reach out, to touch him and pull him into your embrace. "I didn't think you'd see that email so I never said anything about it. But I'm not leaving, okay? Not this time, never again. I'm here and I'm staying,"
You heard Sunghoon's quiet breathing next to your ear, his calming heartbeat thrumming against your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I really am, Y/N. I said I wanted to make this right but why does it feel like I'm fucking it all up?"
"You're not, Hoon, trust me. If I have to be honest here, both of us have past scars that aren't healed yet. It takes time, one step at a time, and that was what I learned. I think we're not fully healed from the past," you held onto him tighter, spilling all your hidden truths. "We can make it right, but first, we have to forgive ourselves, forgive each other and move on,"
Sunghoon pulled away a little, but his arms still remained around you. It was the first time you were ever so close to him since the split, wholly vulnerable and showing him your truest emotions. 
"I forgive you," he whispered, pearly tears threatening to spill from the edge of his eyes. "And I'm sorry again,"
"I forgive you too," your grip on his jacket tightened, a small comforting smile appearing on your lips, one that Sunghoon reciprocated. 
"I don't think I'll ever stop loving you," he confessed, a little out of the blue, but it was something he needed to get out of his system before he burst. "Those years when you were away, I see you in everyone else, I don't think anyone could ever compare. I still love you even after this long,"
Your mind was in a haze upon hearing his confession, sincerity and longing hidden in his words but evident in his eyed. For a moment, you thought of what you could say, but nothing came to mind, so you did the first thing your body told you to. You kissed him. Actually, it was more of a peck, a simple quick peck that was enough to shock both him and you.
"I'm sorry!" You saw his wide eyes and wondered if it was a good time to have even done that.
Sunghoon melted into an expression of adoration, a wide smile etched on his lips, as if in both disbelief and relief that you kissed him. "Don't be sorry," he stepped closer, only an inch measured the distance between you and him. The space became smaller when he leaned down, eyes flickering down to your lips. "Can I?"
Was this happening? "Yeah," 
Sunghoon didn't waste any moment in meeting your lips with his. It was natural, easy, for you to kiss him just like first instinct. The amount of desperation, sadness, anger and love were poured into the way he kissed you. There wasn't any urgency, but it spoke louder than intended.
It was short, but it was enough to let the both you know the true feelings you harboured for each other. By the time you pulled away from him, you felt his eyes on you, a giggle erupted from you unexpectedly, and he started joining in.
You really looked like a lovesick fool standing under the streetlamp with your lover. 
"Do you want to stop by that old spot we used to go to?" Sunghoon suggested, a little shyly this time.
"The one nearby?"
"That one,"
"Let's go then." you nodded, casting him a soft smile. 
Sunghoon didn't say much, but his hand did the talking by reaching for yours. He held onto it tightly, intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your interlocked hands as you walked. He might've not said much, but you could tell how he felt.
Feelings might be complicated, and  making amends with the history behind a broken relationship was equally challenging, but what mattered most was getting back with the one who you called your soulmate, your lover, your best friend.
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flanaganfilm · 1 year
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Good day Mr Flanagan. please what does "the rest is confetti" mean to you and in the context it was used in hill house??
Okay, here we go. Buckle up for a long read.
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To answer this, I've got to explain a little bit about what was happening and where I was when I sat down to write episode 10 of The Haunting of Hill House.
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Hill House was not a fun shoot. The picture above is from very early in production, when I was still chubby and happy.
It was my first foray into television. I was absolutely terrified that I'd mess it up. So I'd opted to direct all of the episodes myself, figuring that - if nothing else - I'd have no one else to blame if it went south.
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It was the most grueling professional experience of my career. The shoot was by no means a smooth one, every day was an uphill battle from a budgetary perspective, and between the three giant production entities involved with the production, I spent a lot of time fighting over the creative and logistical elements of the series.
I began losing weight. I was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day.
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By the end of the shoot, I had dropped almost 40 lbs.
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I was very depressed. Every day was a battle, and for the first time in my career, I wasn't excited to go to work in the morning. We were fighting for basic resources, fighting for the show we wanted, and even fighting amongst ourselves by the end. It was grueling.
We hadn't written all of the scripts when we started production. I believe we had finished through episode 7, but the rest of the scripts had to be finished while we were already shooting.
We'd mapped everything out in the writers room, and I had great support on the other episodes, but I was writing the finale solo. I'd thought I'd be able to juggle it with everything else. I quickly fell behind.
I finally got to the script about halfway through production. I'd work on it between takes at the monitor, and then get home to our tiny rental house in Atlanta, where Kate was waiting with our baby son. (One of the rare bright spots of this shoot came when Kate found out she was pregnant about halfway through production. We even named our daughter Theodora, in honor of her origins.)
I'd typically fall down from exhaustion when I got home, but I had to push through it and work on the script. My weekends were spent shotlisting and prepping for upcoming episodes. We didn't have enough time to stay ahead of prep, so every available day was used for that... I went three months without a single day off at one point.
I'd sit up late staring at the script. I was in a dark, dark place. Overwhelmed, exhausted, and feeling like I lived in an eternal present. Each day bled into the next and it didn't feel like there was an end in sight. That feeling of unreality was heightened because we kept returning to the same sets, same locations, and even the same scenes throughout the 100 shooting-day production. Stepping back into the exact room we had shot in days or weeks or even months ago made the whole thing feel absolutely surreal. Making movies is always an non-linear experience, but this one felt particularly so... it was like the days of our lives were happening to us all out of order.
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I remember feeling something like despair creeping into my daily experience on the show. And I remember dwelling on that when I got into the scene work of episode 10.
As I worked through the draft, I recall that despair coloring a lot of what was on the page. My filter was breaking down. There's a monologue at the beginning of the episode where Steven's wife Leigh (played by my dear friend Samantha Sloyan) spews out a torrent of eviscerating insults about Steve's value as a writer. That is just me vomiting onto myself. She was voicing all of my deepest insecurities about myself at the time, and of what I was doing with this series.
She says "Is anything real before you write it, Steve? The things you write about, they're real. Those people are real, their feelings are real, their pain is real - but not to you, is it. Not until you chew it up, digest it, and shit it out onto a piece of paper and even then, it's a pale imitation at best."
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This was the mindset I was in for a lot of the shoot. The writing became a reflection of a lot of that turmoil, and I knew who I was referring to in that monologue - I was talking about my family. I was talking about how much of their lives I'd used as building material for this show. I was talking about the fact that I'd lost two loved ones to suicide, and seen what it had done to my mother in particular. And I knew I was using - possibly even exploiting - those people for this series.
There's a lot of despair in this episode. The Red Room, as we conceived it, was a place that would feed upon those emotions. Grief, sadness, loss... those were the real ghosts of our series, and where our characters find themselves at the start of the finale. They're being slowly digested - eaten alive - by those feelings.
So finally, it came time to write Nell's final scene with her siblings. I knew from the outline we'd constructed in the writers room what this was supposed to accomplish - she was supposed to be their salvation. She was supposed to take all of these feelings that we'd been wrestling with and finally provide catharsis... finally say something that would free everyone.
I remember sitting with a blinking cursor for a long time. The Crain siblings had just turned and seen Nellie standing by the door, and suddenly were able to hear her speak. But what should she say? What would I say? What would I want someone to say to me?
What she ultimately says lays bare a lot of what I was thinking about when it comes to grief. It exists outside of linear time, much as I felt I existed at the time. That sense of eternal present, that sense of a nonlinear eternity of moments and memories - it all came out in her speech to her brothers and sisters.
I remember feeling, looking at my insane present and looking back at my past, how strangely overwhelmed I was by memories. That I wasn't experiencing time in a straight line, and hadn't been for a while - for the better part of a year, I'd felt more like I was standing in a whirlwind of moments. "Our moments fall around us like..." Nell said, and I recall sitting back and trying to find the words.
"Rain," for certain, but there was something too uniform about that. The moments of life as I experienced them weren't that orderly, they weren't that small. They didn't fall the same way. Some sailed by, fast and unremarkable, while others lingered in front of me, twisting and stretching. So it was a good word, but not the right word. I left it on the page though.
"Snow" was my next attempt. Better, in that I imagined the snow blowing in the wind, swirling and dancing and feeling more organic. More chaotic. More like life. But for some reason, the word that stuck with me, the word I felt Nell Crain would connect with was...
"Confetti."
And that was because I was thinking not of Victoria Pedretti at this point, but of Violet McGraw.
Violet played Young Nell, and I wondered what she might have said if she experienced time this way. As an adult, Nell was despairing. Nell was overwhelmed. But as a child... there was an innocence to the word. There was a joy to the word.
I imagined moments falling around her, this little girl with the big smile and the wide eyes. Her moments would be colorful. They would be of different shapes and sizes, some falling fast and some falling slow, flipping and turning and dancing in the air, independent of the others. Sparkling, whirling, doing lazy summersaults as they sauntered down to Earth.
I thought of myself, and of the members of my family. I thought of those we'd lost. I realized what I hoped for them, and for us all, in the end... was to look upon that mosaic of experience, that avalanche of days and minutes and moments... and to smile with some of the joy we had as children.
And this, I thought, was something that gave me hope. This gave me a glimpse of some kind of salvation for them. This was also how I hoped my life might seem if I was a ghost - a cascade of color and light and shape and movement, something I could dance in.
So Nell smiled and said... "or confetti."
It stuck with me. The rest of her monologue gets heavy again, and gets to the real point of the show - the point of the whole series, if I'm honest - and that's forgiveness.
I figured the only thing that would let the Crain children out of the Red Room was to be forgiven. I thought of the losses in my own family, and I thought of what I wished for my mother and for my aunts and uncles and cousins and I tried to pour that into her final words.
"I loved you completely, and you loved me the same," she said, "that's all." And this was the point I wanted the most to make. That at the end of our life, if we can say this about each other, the rest doesn't matter. The rest is that rainstorm, or that blizzard, that fell around this one central truth, and maybe built itself in piles around it, to the point we lost sight of it along the way.
And I thought again of that little girl, and almost as an afterthought, wrote "The rest is confetti."
I liked the way it sounded, but I was insecure about the line. I almost took it out, in fact. I remember asking Kate to read the scene and talking about that last line with her. "Is it too cute?" I wondered. She was on the fence. "Depends on how it's acted," she said, and I figured she was right. We could always take it out if it didn't work. The scene could end with "I loved you completely, and you loved me the same. That's all."
Why not shoot it and see what happened.
I turned in the script, we published it quickly so that we could start breaking it down and prepping it. And the next morning I was back on set. I'd deal with episode 10 when it came down the pipe again, sometime in the coming months. We had a lot of shooting to get through before I had to worry about it.
I recall Netflix asking me to cut a lot of that monologue, and I remember them also having questions about the "confetti" line. I pointed out that it didn't cost us any extra to shoot it all, it was only words, and fought to keep the script intact.
Ultimately, they insisted I make a series of cuts on the page. I begrudgingly agreed, but left Nell's speech alone. I made superficial cuts around it, throughout the draft, and even considered changing the font size to fool them into thinking it had gotten shorter (I ultimately was told I wouldn't fool anyone and not to risk starting a war). But Nellie's final goodbye stayed intact.
It must be said - Victoria Pedretti SLAUGHTERED this scene.
By the time we got around to filming it, things had never been worse for the production. There was almost nothing left for a lot of us. Tensions were sky-high, resources had been exhausted completely, and we were all ready to give up.
Filming in the mold-ridden Red Room was depressing, morose, and led to a lot of arguments and unpleasantness. The room itself just felt gross, always, and we were in there for days at a time. The last thing we had to shoot in there was Nellie's goodbye.
Victoria came to set having to push through pages of monologue, and she did so with captivating bravado. I recall being teary-eyed at the monitor watching her work. And when we finally made it to the last line, I watched her deliver it with... a smile. A sincere, innocent, longing, joyful smile. A smile informed by the sadness, grief, and loss of her own situation, of her own life... but a smile that finds forgiveness and grace after all. Pedretti knew how to say the line, and how that word would work.
And as she said it, I knew it would stay in the show.
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Over the years, that sentence has become something of a tagline for The Haunting of Hill House. I'm always a bit mystified and touched when I see people approach me with the line on T-shirts, or even tattooed on their bodies.
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I started signing it with autographs back in 2020 after enough fans asked me to. Now it's my go-to when I sign anything related to Hill House.
The line, for me, represents a lot of things.
It's about the insane, chaotic, non-linear experience of making that show. It's about trying to find and hold onto joy, even in the grips of despair.
It's about the way the moments of our lives aren't linear, not really, and how we may be unable to understand them as we exist in their flurry. It's about finding hope, innocence and forgiveness in the final reckoning.
And it's about how, outside of our love for each other, the rest is just... well, it's fleeting. It's colorful. It's overwhelming. It's blinding. It's dancing. And, if we look at it right, it's beautiful. But it's also light. It's tinsel. It flits and dances and falls and fades, it's as light as air.
The rest is the stuff that falls around us, and flits away into nothing.
It's the love that stays.
8K notes · View notes
spitdrunken · 2 months
Note
i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..
also, for your consideration:
Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...
Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...
this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)
I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.
Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.
The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.
When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.
“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.
He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)
“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.
So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.
“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”
Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.
----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?
Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…
And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!
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rose-pearls · 2 months
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Maybe a Clarisse x reader. Where R is daughter of Nemesis? Normally being very quiet and "calm", and, as she is the daughter of the Goddess of Revenge, she helps to take revenge on those who hurt Clarisse, even in games of capture the flag, in a discreet way and they almost never find out it was her. In addition to being extremely good at chess and strategies as well. (English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistake)
Hi! Thank you for your request! I had a bit of a writer block but I hope you like it!!! (Requests are open)
Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)
Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303 (open)
Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley (open)
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Clarisse knew everyone as camp, but there was one person that she didn’t knew as well, she was a kind of mystery that you couldn’t really understand. You had been claimed by Nemesis, a goddess who was known for revenge and strategy. It had made most campers wary of you, expect for the Hermes cabin, who had welcomed you in their cabin to stay. 
She had only heard of you in passing, people complaining of how you had beaten them for the hundredth time at chess and now as she watches you beating Annabeth at chess she can’t help but want to know more about you. Apart from chess she hadn’t heard a lot about you, you were someone quiet, who liked to stay in your corner, so she didn’t pay you any mind, not thinking that you could be something that interesting. But she would be lying if she said she had never sneaked glances at you., admiring you from afar.
Clarisse knew that she wasn’t the most liked person at camp Half-blood, that title would probably be held by Luke, but she still couldn’t help but be surprised when people tried to get to her. The Hephaestus kids were the ones that brought anger to the Ares kids, just like their fathers their children couldn’t get along. But it was weird when her spear suddenly reappeared after she searched everywhere for it, it had been laying on her bed, as if she had just put it there herself. The only indication that it was the Hephaestus kids were the twin marks on their arms, a small broken circle that reminded her of the broken wheel that had appeared above your head. 
She hadn’t thought about it further, only thought that they had realized how stupid they were and decided to bring it back. But as she saw a perfect ambush by the blue team getting completely destroyed by some simple smoke and something that she couldn’t pinpoint she knew that this was something bigger. She knew that the blue team had worked hard and long on this ambush, trying to get her alone to weaken her and try to get the flag that way. Just as she had been getting ready to fight back, surrounded by people of the blue team, they all saw a dark smoke coming their way and suddenly they were all on the ground holding their Achilles heel in pain, while she stood there unaffected. 
The only thing she saw was a shadow moving, and the smoke following it, so after a second, she left her helmet there and followed the shadow. It took a couple of minutes of following the mysterious person before she found you in the clearing. You looked beautiful in that armor, perhaps if the color on your armor had been red it would’ve been even better.
“Why are you doing this?”, she knows it’s rude to just ask you what you are doing, but she isn’t one to talk in circles, she needs an answer. You look at her with curious eyes and she tries not to fall for them.
“What do you mean?”, she knows that you know, but that you want her to tell you what she means.
“Why are you protecting me?”, it’s difficult to say it, she never had someone really protecting her so she quickly believed she should protect herself and not count on others to do it.
“Because they wanted to hurt you and that wasn’t fair to do without you knowing what was happening and risking getting hurt,” she was speechless, for the first time in a long time. If she was honest with herself and with you, she would tell you that she probably deserves to get attacked or getting something taken from her with the way she treats people, but she doesn’t say it. Instead, she admires your features, trying to understand why you would choose to protect her of all people.
“Why me?”, this time it slips right of her tongue, without her being able to hold it back.
“Why not? Everyone needs someone on their side. I just think you deserve to have someone on your side, watching your back,” you say it with so much ease that Clarisse can’t help but blurt out the next few words.
“Be careful or I might think you have a crush on me,” she says, and she tries to say it in a teasing voice, but it comes out shaky. However, she doesn’t expect the blooming blush on your cheeks and your shy smile, making her realize that maybe you do and that is why you are protecting her. 
“Wait, you do have a crush on me,” she says and for a moment she feels her heart beating faster, just like when she finished fighting with one of her siblings. Her stomach is turning into knots, and she feels her cheeks heat up.
“I do, I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” you look slightly ashamed, as if Clarisse could ever be mad at you for having feelings for her.
“Don’t apologize, it doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” there is short silence that follows her words, were Clarisse tries to tell herself that she should just take the risk and go for it.
“I kind of have a crush on you too,” she says quietly, she had only admitted it to herself in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. Saying it out loud felt like a relief but it was also nerve-wracking.
You look surprised at her words, like you couldn’t believe the Ares girl could ever feel the same for you.
“Really?”, Clarisse can’t help but smile at your surprise, you looked even more beautiful like that. She gets closer to you and takes your hand, enjoying the darkening blush on your cheeks.
“Really,” she says, and she enjoys your shy smile, as you look down at your intertwined fingers.
“What do you say we go on a date sometimes? That way you can tell me all of your tricks,” Clarisse proposes, silently hoping that you will give her a chance. 
“I would love that, but if I told you everything, I would have to kill you,” you say with a teasing smile and Clarisse rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
“I’ll take the chance, beautiful,” she says before starting to bring you towards a secluded spot in the forest.
“Don’t you want to know who wins capture the flag?”, she hears you ask, and she turns around to find you looking at her with worried eyes, but she only shakes her head.
“Doesn’t matter at the moment, I’ve got more important things to do. And next time I will make sure to have a certain daughter of Nemesis on my team to win,” Clarisse says enjoying your satisfied smile before bringing you to her secluded spot. 
Unfortunately for the other campers, this was the day an unbreakable duo was formed, you had Clarisse at the front, defending herself but mostly you. And in the shadows, there was the brain, the one that could plot a revenge better than anyone by knowing exactly what your weaknesses were. Even the gods were scared for a moment as they saw the two girls form a bond that could never be broken.
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yanderestarangel · 2 months
Text
⸺ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
💌 hi angels, lorenzo here, I'm starting the blog this hiatus, I know I haven't made many requests and apologies to those who waited for the requests to be written, I have more than 84 drafts, but I have no motivation to post or write for now.
The blog isn't over, I'm just taking a break until my creativity returns, again I'm sorry about something and thanks to everyone who helped me, correcting my posts or giving me kind words, your affection and comments always made me feel good,there are a lot of great mk1 content writers here, you won't be missed much lol.
I'll be back when I feeling creative again, thank you guys for everything.
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♡ HEADKANONS MK1 ♡
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 - "what are their favorite positions?" | tw: smut/nsfw headcanons, afab reader, male and female pronouns used in pet names, porn plot only
୨♡୧ | ultimate fem!characters headkanons from mk1 | sfw | tw: fluff, cute romance, afab reader, no pronouns used other than "you", mention of lingerie, mention of mommykink (but nothing explicit), sfw.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 - "how would they react to the pregnant reader?" | tw: pregnancy, afab anatomy, paternity mentioned, used "father/mother" to refer to the reader, mention of smut, fluff.
୨♡୧ | headkanons syzoth | reptile mk1 with s/o | tw: sfw and smut headcanons, afab reader, masculine and feminine pronouns used in pet names "good boy/good girl", breeding kink, vaginal sex.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 - trio liu kuei + friend!reader | sfw | tw: gn reader, sfw, headcanons in general, spoilers about mk1, platonic relationship, little angst.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | dark!trio liu kuei |"-how would they react to the reader, on another man's lap? do they have feelings for the reader." | tw: dark concept, yandere themes, violence, unhealthy jealousy, light smut, gn reader.
୨♡୧ | headkanons marturbation | johnny cage + tomas vrbada/smoke | tw: pet names, afab reader, masturbation.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio liu kuei | "how they reacted to a shy reader in bed?" + bonus: "how they act in bed?" | tw: afab anatomy, vaginal sex, smut.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio liu kuei | "how would they react to you saying you have daddykink?" | tw: smut, daddykink, afab reader.
୨♡୧ | headkanons syzoth | reptile mk1 with s/o | tw: sfw and smut headcanons, afab reader, masculine and feminine pronouns used in pet names "good boy/good girl", breeding kink, vaginal sex.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | smut edition + with all the men of mk | tw: smut, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob, thigh fetish, mutual masturbation, degradation, pet names, bdsm, blindfold sex, overstimulation, oral f!receives, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than 'you'.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | lin kuei brothers | "what would it be like to f*ck on a rainy day with them?"| tw: somnophilia, oral sex f!re., blowjob, rough sex, slow sex, creampie, sex without a condom, vaginal sex, smut, porn plot, afab reader, no pronouns used besides "you".
୨♡୧ | headkaons mk1 | trio lin kuei | how would they react to cathing the reader masturbating | tw: afab anatomy, voyeurism, masturbation, no pronouns used other than "you", angst.
୨♡୧ | lin kuei brothers would react to a virgin reader | tw: fingering, afab anatomy, virgin reader, smut, nsfw, sub!reader, no pronouns used except 'you'.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | enemies to lovers | tw: smut, daddykink, afab anatomy, degradation, enemies to lovers context.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | halloween edition | dark smut | tw: smut, vaginal sex, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than "you", m!masturbation, bloodkink, rough sex, degradation, stalking, small compliments, halloween themes, knife!play.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | if they were caught by you masturbsting and how each of them does | tw: M!masturbation, vaginal sex, erotic fantasy, smut, nsfw, dirty talk, afab anatomy.
୨♡୧ | worship cock | wotch the men of mk1 | tw: smut.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | theam reacting to what it would be like for you to wear a very small bikini that shows your breasts sticking out. | tw: afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than 'you', smut, nsfw, rough sex, pet names, degradation.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | what would a toxic relationship with them be like | TW: dark themes, toxic relationship, physical aggression, afab anatomy, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, yandere themes, smut, nsfw. |
୨♡୧ | dark concept mk1 | reader entering their world | tw: yandere themes, dark themes, kidnapping, obsession, smut, afab anatomy, unhealthy jealousy, yandere!bi han, yandere!tomas, gn reader.
୨♡୧ | types of dick | mk1 version | tw: smut
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | m!overestimulation | tw: overstimulation, ball massage, blowjob, praise kink, pet names, dacryphilia, sub!bi han, sub!tomas, sub!kuai liang, gn reader.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | squirt fist time | tw: afab anatomy, use of vibrators, face fuck - in bi han - sex without a condom, squirting, degradation, no pronouns used other than "you", penetration, face sitting - in bi han -
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | how would they help you during your mestrual period | tw: bloodkink, primal sex, sex with a condom, sex during menstruation, afab reader, pet names,soft!bi han, size kink, vaginal sex, no pronouns used other than "you", smut, porn plot only, sex during the menstrual period, mention of blood ( duh )
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | what would it be like to have a porn channel with them | TW: daddykink,sizekink, sub!reader, blowjob, v!sex, gunkink, bdsm, exhibitionism, voyeurism, afab anatomy, sex without a condom, porn plot, anal sex, use of vibrator, use of plugs, sex toys, no pronouns used other than " you."
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | big brother syzoth | sfw | tw: some angst, grief mentioned, mk1 canon story spoilers, sfw in general.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | ​​​​​​competition for your love | tw: rivalry, afab reader, smut in the final cut, foursome, blowjob, v!sex, anal!sex.
୨♡୧ | — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌?" | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | TW : afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, rough sex, extreme sex, v!sex, possessive sex, toxic relationship, exhibitionism.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | praise kink + sub concept | TW: praise kink, degradation, sub!trio lin kuei, v!sex, spanking, pet names, daddykink/mommykink, afab reader, bi han has a succubus tattoo, objectification, exhibitionism, stimulation, overstimulation, extreme submission, dom!reader, smut, nsfw, blowjob, rope sex, semi public sex, no pronouns used other than "you".
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | finish him! | with all the men of mk1 | extreme smut | TW: rough sex, extreme sex, smut, use of powers, sex with clones, v!sex, ftm reader, pet names, afab anatomy, blowjob, threesome sex, nsfw, pain kink, possessive and violent sex, sex without a condom, prolong orgasm, cock warming, oral (f!r), creampie, extreme degradation, humiliation, supetestimulation, male reader, bdsm, daddykink, fingering, masturbation.
୨♡୧ | headkanonks mk1 | kenshi takahashi x johnny cage x reader | TW: afab anatomy, fluff, soft headcanons, threesome, smut, nsfw, double penetration, blowjob, kenshi and Johnny make out with each other, gay sex, anal sex, vibrators, ice play, switch!reader, sub!johnny, dom!kenshi, daddykink.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊 - 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 | TW: gang bang, sub!reader, dom!mens, blowjob, double blowjob, double penetration, anal, masturbation, ass play, pet names, triple penetration, unprotected sex, cum play, monster fuck, cock warning, exhibitionism, sadism , masochism, sex with ropes, bdsm, rough sex, extreme sex, objectification, degradation, porn plot, afab anatomy, oral f!re, orgasm denied, monster fuck.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | "changing in front of them - they secretly like you." + bonus character edition. | TW: afab reader, no pronouns used other than "you", smut, nsfw, little angst, v!sex, blowjob, fingering.
୨♡୧ | headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | "what would it be like to exchange nudes with them?/how they send nudes? | TW: afab anatomy, pet names, dirty talk, pussy talk, whining, nude exchange, mutual masturbation, m!masturbation, smut, nsfw, sex phone, porn plot only.
୨♡୧ | DILF!BI HAN HC | TW : daddykink, betrayal, dilf!bi han, age gap, breeding kink, handjob, v!sex, afab anatomy, pet names, power play, dark!bi han, sex without a condom, possessive sex, objectification, aforementioned pregnancy, sex with pregnant reader, exhibitionism.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | shang tsung | morticia addams and gomes concept | TW: marriage, stable relationship, gender neutral reader, gothic romance, implicit smut.
୨♡୧| headkanons mortal kombat | "what is the sexual difference with the s/o of the two johnny cage?" | TW: afab anatomy, aggressive sex, age gap, fluff, v!sex, degradation, possessive sex, red flags, dilf johnny cage, mk1 and mk11 canon spoilers, pet names, smut, daddykink.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | trio lin kuei | fingering the reader under the table | TW: afab anatomy, fingering, pussy talk, smut, exhibitionism, public teasing, pet names, degradation, dirty talk.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | soft!bi han | comfort and smut edition | TW: daddykink, care, comfort, soft behavior, afab anatomy, v!sex, fingering, eat out, praise, somnophilia.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | taking care of the lin kuei trio | soft smut edition | TW: smut, v!sex, blowjob, afab anatomy, mk1 spoilers about the canon story, mention of fractures, care, slow sex, no pronouns used other than 'you', nsfw text, whining.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | neko!bi han | sfw, soft edition | TW: fluff, sfw and just bi han being a cute grandmaster.
୨♡୧| headkanons mk1 | "reacting to the volume of their bulge appearing in your belly" | TW: size kink, afab anatomy, pet names, v!sex, hard smut, not reviewed.
୨♡୧| 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 - 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄!𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 + 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | TW: afab anatomy, dark!bi han, dark!tomas, sub!reader, headcanons, hard smut, bloodkink, master x sub, dark themes, v!sex, blowjob, praise, degradation, sex with blood, objectification, aggressive fuck, porn plot, anal sex, size kink, hard!dom bi han, hard!dom tomas vrbada, dumbification, bdsm, hunter!play.
୨♡୧| 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?" | TW : afab anatomy, v!sex, 69 upside down, praise, provocation, oral (f!re), sex without a condom, pet names (good boy/good girl), no pronouns used other than "you", himbo/bimbo reader.
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♡ ONE SHOTS ♡
୨♡୧ | yandere mk1 | bi han x gn reader | tw : angst, psychological horror, kidnapping, obsession, forced passion, stalker, yandere themes, dark concept.
୨♡୧ | old man | kenshi takahashi | tw: afab reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, painkink, sexual punishment, dom!kenshi.
୨♡୧ | double punishing pleasure - kuai liang and bi han x afab reader | tw: double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob m!receive, degradation, asphyxiation, saliva, pet names, submission, master!kink, porn plot, smut, nsfw, punishment, afab reader, power play.
୨♡୧ | no going back | bi han x reader | tw: angst, daddy issues, daddykink, praise kink, slight smut, gn reader, description of mental suffering, unreliable narrator.
୨♡୧ | daddy's good boy | bi han x ftm reader | ⸺ tw: daddykink, blowjob, face fuck, dom!bi han, sub!reader, afab anatomy, ftm reader, degradation, pussy talk.
୨♡୧ | submissive bi han | tw: afab reader, v!sex, handjob, sub!bi han, dom!reader, panty gag, overstimulation, self degradation.
୨♡୧ | worship ass - with some men from mk1 | bottom version
୨♡୧ | dumb midnight thoughts - bi han | sub zero mk1 | tw: smut, afab reader, m!receive oral sex, blowjob, saliva, anal sex, vaginal sex, degradation, no pronouns used other than "you".
୨♡୧ | ex husband kenshi x afab reader | TW: afab anatomy, pet names, degradation, v!sex 
୨♡୧ | rays of pleasure | dark raiden x ftm reader | tw: dacryphilia, rough sex, degradation, creampie, ftm reader, vaginal sex, blowjob, fingering, extreme, praise kink, afab anatomy
୨♡୧ | dumb midnight thoughts - smoke | tomas vrbada mk1 | tw: smut, afab reader, praise kink, feminine and masculine pronouns used in pet names "good boy, good girl","my prince, my princess"
୨♡୧ | crybaby | bi han x afab reader | tw: unreliable narrator, mourning, blood, death, smut, mentioned death, hallucination, angst.
୨♡୧ | let me care of you | kuai liang | tw: smut, afab anatomy, vaginal sex, blowjob, no pronouns used other than 'you'.
୨♡୧ | sub!kuai liang x dom!reader | TW: fingering, anal sex, tongue job, m!r, sub!kuai liang, face riding, ass worship, dom!reader, no pronouns used, fuck face.
୨♡୧ | dumb midnight thoughts | kenshi takahashi mk1 | tw: outdoor sex, vaginal sex, afab reader, pet names, riding kenshi's dick, smut.
୨♡୧ | Johnny cage x reader smut | TW: breeding kink, afab anatomy, sex without a condom, v!sex, ride on johnny's dick, praise kink, pregnancy, smut only, daddykink, dom!johnny.
୨♡୧| virgin!bi han x experienced reader | TW: virgin!bi han, v!sex, blowjob, smut, experienced reader, afab anatomy, pet names, dom!bi han.
୨♡୧| DILF BI HAN SMUT | TW: fingering, use of powers, dilf!bi han, age gap, possessive sex, unhealthy jealousy, dark!bi han, smut, degradation, blowjob.
୨♡୧| "𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄!"| 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 | TW: ftm reader, afab anatomy, v!sex, oral sex ( f!receive ), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!tomas, size kink, exhibitionism, degradation, pet names, possessive sex, porn plot only, smut, nsfw, praise, rough sex.
୨♡୧| raiden x reader - smut | TW: somnophilia, clit teasing, oral (f!receiving), praise, morning sex, afab anatomy,smut, pussy worship, pet names, no pronouns used other than "you".
୨♡୧| "ride me" | cowboy!johnny cage x ftm reader | TW: afab anatomy, porn plot, ftm/male reader, dom!johnny, sub!reader, pet names, oral (f!r), creampie, age gap, v!sex, himbo/roseboy reader, ride Johnny's nose.
୨♡୧| BI HAN SMUT | TW: v!sex, riding on Bi Han's face, mentioned stretch marks, oral sex (f!re), praise, passionate sex, smut, nicknames, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than "you".
୨♡୧| 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊1 | TW: afab anatomy, eat out, v!sex, mommykink, fingering, pet names, bottom and top versions, mutual fingering, no pronouns used other than "you".
୨♡୧| arranged marriege - first time | tomas vrbada x reader | TW: ftm reader, husband x husband, v!sex, blowjob, rough sex, dom!tomas, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, pet names, stable relationship, creampie, breedkink, smut, afab anatomy, horny.
୨♡୧| 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 | TW: smut, praise, pet names, angst, ftm reader, pussy worship, v!sex, afab anatomy, handjob, cum play, husband x husband, fingering, overstimulation.
୨♡୧| "daddy's pretty boy" | sugar daddy!kano x ftm reader | TW: daddykink, afab anatomy, semi public sex, smut, v!sex, sugar daddy concept, age gap, praise, blowjob, degradation, spanking, kano is extremely vulgar (as he is kanonically)
୨♡୧| 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠 | TW: angst, insecurity, smut, v!sex, oral (f!re), husband kuai liang, afab anatomy, pet names, praise, rough sex, aggressive sex, use of ropes in sex, creampie, overstimulation, dirty talk, husband x husband, ftm reader.
୨♡୧| 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐚 | TW: angst, smut, ftm reader, aggressive sex, crying, overstimulation, v!sex, ride, unprotected sex, tomas begs for your forgiveness, afab anatomy, not reviewed.
୨♡୧| 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 | tw: afab anatomy, v!sex, sleepy sex, praise, smut, somnophilia, ftm reader, soft!dom bi han.
୨♡୧| 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 | TW: v!sex, superstimulation, fingering, soft!dom bi han, ftm reader, afab anatomy, male x male, feminization ( I think ), smut, porn plot only, praise, pet names, morning sex, sex without a condom, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cum play.
୨♡୧| 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 | TW: afab anatomy, lactation!kink, v!sex, soft sex, fingered, not revised, pregnant sex, mother/father used to refer to the reader, praise, soft dom!bi han, bi han!husband.
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454 notes · View notes
sannasruins · 6 months
Text
it didn't hurt, right?
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bakugo katsuki x reader
type: angst
warnings: cheating (on reader), smoking, f!reader
a/n: hi it's been a while, got writer's block but then something bad happened to me which always makes the writing juices flow, also i didn't proofread, i will never proofread
word count: 2k
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The strike of a lighter lit in front of your face, you weren't one to smoke, in fact, you had never smoked a cigarette before. After all that had happened to you today though, you thought you needed a vice. You needed something, anything, too dull, to numb, to take your mind off what had happened. What you had heard, and now this dull ache refusing to leave your chest. You let the flame go out.
Leaning against the cold brick wall in the dark, in the alleyway of the convince store where you had just bought a pack of Marlboro's, the pretty sad girls always seemed to smoke those, and a matching red lighter. You huddled into yourself, hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, fist clamped around the box you had just bought. Your chilled body illuminated slightly by the neon lights of the city that spilled into your hiding place, you shakily take out the box, struggling for a second on how to open it before, with shaky hands, successfully ripping into it. You tapped out a single thin white stick and brought it to your lips, before restriking the lighter and bringing it to the tip. 
You inhaled deeply, and paused before you began coughing, it felt as if you were going to cough your lungs right out of your body with how hard they were wracking your entire being. You bent over, hands on your knees as your whole body shook with the motions of your coughs, the cigarette, forgotten and extinguished on the ground by your feet, while this was a miserable feeling, you thought to yourself, it did replace that horrible knot of anxiety in your stomach for a few moments. Maybe it was worth it. 
You thought back to what had caused this rash change in behavior for you, it wasn’t too long ago, just a few weeks, maybe even a handful of minutes if you didn’t count the foreboding feeling leading up to it. 
You had been dating your boyfriend, Pro Hero Bakugo Katsuki for 2 years now, but had known him since the days that he was an upper classman for you at UA high, you in the support class a year under him, got semi acquainted with him as he frequently was breaking his equipment. After he graduated you both lost touch but when you graduated and found a job as a hero equipment repair apprentice at the same agency he was working at, the two of you began to interact once more. 
You had had a crush on him since your schooling days, your girl friends always calling you crazy for liking such an abrasive boy, but you liked his candor, and his mental fortitude. The two of you found your quick wit in common and you could sympathize with him in a way that it seemed that a lot of people could not, which you didn’t fully understand but you didn’t let it get to you.
He asked you out 2 years after you had started working at the pro hero agency, he had brought a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you were surprised he had known them, but you happily said yes with years in your eyes. Your girlhood crush had been realized; how many people can say that. 
You asked him later what made him ask you out, what he liked about you. He told you he liked your sweetness, your kind eyes, and maybe it was a red flag that he didn't mention how brave you were, or your quick hands, or your impressive talents. But maybe not, it’s hard to tell at this point. 
He was sweet for a while, attentive, present, though it did drop off eventually, maybe after a year, maybe a bit sooner. You could shrug that off though, he was a pro hero, he was busy protecting the city and the entirety of Japan.
The two of you moved in together on your one-year anniversary, you thought it was so sweet when he presented you with the key to his apartment in a little box with a bow. Though was that just lazy behavior? Did he do that because he didn’t know what else to do or didn’t care to do anything else? You were questioning everything about the of your relationship at this point. 
You hadn’t brought much from your apartment, just a couple boxes of stuff besides clothes, since his place was already furnished with things much nicer than yours. You didn’t think you would be needing any of your old furniture again, no point in paying for storage for things you don’t need, so you sold it off for a little bit of money to put into your savings, you secretly had the thought of ‘wedding’ when saving the money. 
You chuckle bitterly in the alleyway you’ve been reminiscing in, “stupid” you murmur to yourself.
It was definitely dumb of you to sell almost all your belongings when moving in with your first serious boyfriend, but you were young and dumb and in love. 
You were happy cooking lunches for the both of you, and then making breakfast, before going to work an 8-hour shift, often having to put in overtime due to unexpected or urgent repairs needing to be done, and then coming home, cleaning your shared living spaces, and starting on dinner before he came home. It became a routine, and you didn’t mind, he worked hard, and you loved him, so putting in some extra effort didn’t hurt, right?
You loved him. He loved you. It didn't hurt, right?
He had been acting a little more distant than usual in the last few weeks, you had tried talking to him, getting him to open up, letting him know you were there for him, giving him his space, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to work, he just seemed to be getting further and further away from you, coming home later, pushing his dinner around his plate but not eating, and even when the two of you slept in the same bed, side by side, it was as if you were worlds apart. You had no idea what was going on, you equated it to his job, it was hard, he had to watch people get hurt, he had to watch people die, he had to bear the guilt of not being able to save those claimed by death. You felt helpless sitting there watching him drift away but you tried everything, there was nothing left for you to do.
He came home earlier than his new normal that day, the sun was still in the sky, albeit, setting, the orange fingers of light stretching out through the clouds as if grasping onto the day, not wanting to leave the bliss of unknowing. 
“Oh, hi honey!” you greeted him as you heard the door unlock and swing open, “you’re home earlier than you’ve been, so I don’t have dinner ready quite yet,”. 
You continued to happily babble as he took off his shoes by the entrance and closed the door behind him before making his way to the kitchen where you stood and took a seat at the dining table. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the spikes slightly, in a way he did when he was anxious, but you didn’t see the movement as you had you back turned, happily stirring away at a pot on the stove.
“We need to talk.” He stated. 
You felt your stomach drop in anxiety, you didn’t like his tone of voice, it was curt, it was clipped, it was cold. It was unfamiliar. 
“O-” your voice caught in your throat, “Okay Hun, well dinners almost ready so, like 10 more minutes and we can talk over it okay? Thats fine, right?” you asked, more trying to reassure yourself than anything else. 
“Y/n,” again, the unfamiliar tone, “turn off the stone, that can wait, we need to talk now.”
You slowly released the iron grasp you didn’t know you had on the wooden spoon you held in your hand, a sizable lump growing in your throat, before you inhaled through your nose and acknowledged him.
“Okay, Katsuki.” you turned the burner off, and whipped your palms quickly down your jeans once, steeling yourself before you turned to face him, sitting at the table, which suddenly looked alien to you. 
You walked stiffly towards the chair you always sat in, opposite him, and looked at his face, there was an indescribable expression on it, but it was stern, and chilly. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his eyes had a storm of emotion in them, determination, but behind that, maybe, guilt. 
You pulled the chair out and sat, dread already filling your stomach as your mind filled with 1,000 ideas as to what he had to say, though nothing could have prepared you for the words that were about to leave his mouth.
“I found someone else.”
Time slowed for you.
He continued, “and I think I love her, more than I love you, I think more than I could ever love you.”, every second felt agonizing as you processed what he had just told you, someone else? You had a million questions, and they all started falling out of your mouth, tumbling and choking you along with your tears. 
“Why? Who? For how long? When did this start? Where did you meet her? What do you mean? Can’t I do anything to fix this? Why are yo-,” You were stuttering and stumbling over your words before he held up a hand to stop your onslaught of questions.
“I can’t say why, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I still care about you, I do still love you, I just,” he paused and put his head in his hands, sighing, “I love her more.”
“I can’t tell you wh-” you stood up, the sound of your chair scrapping against the wooden floor cutting him off. Fat, hot tears ran down your cheeks and you walked past him and towards the front door. 
He stood up as you passed, the sharp sound of his chair on the floor abrasive in your ears, and you flinched, squinting your eyes closed.
He grabbed your arm tightly, perhaps he didn’t know his own strength, but the force was bruising. You tried once to shake him off, but he didn’t let go. “Y/n, sit back down and listen to me,” he tried to command you.
You tried again to shrug him off, and when he again refused to release you from his grasp, your voice, raspy and harsher, and in a tone, he had never heard escape from your lips, confronted him. 
“Let me go Bakugo.”
His hand loosened and you were able to finally shrug your bicep out of his fisted hand.
He stood there silently watching as you made your way to the front door, shoving your feet into the first pair of shoes you saw and grabbing a jacket, before opening the door and heading out, slamming it behind you. 
That is how you had found yourself, now sitting on the ground in the alleyway on the side of a convenience store, knees to your eyes as you shook silently with sobs.
You lowered your knees and again reached into your jacket pocket, pulling out the little box and lighter, deciding to try again. You brought the cigarette back up to your shaky lips and repeated the steps, click of the lighter, bring the flame in close, let the flame die, inhale. Ignore the burn in your chest, exhale.
It didn’t hurt, right?
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a/n: there will not be a part two, this was lightly based on an experience that happened to me, and i won't want to write a fake future. even if his actions end up coming and biting him in the ass though, i have moved past it, as i am not going to spend my youth full of regret and rage, it doesn't hurt anyone but me. I hope all of my readers understand. <3
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xphntmhvx · 1 month
Note
hi!! i am so so in love with your hazbin headcanons about the gentle moment with Angel/Alastor during the final battle and the "(bonus points for being the only person he allows to see him hurt afterward/getting to help fix him up.)" was so so delicious.. im thinking so much about that now.. Could you by any chance write some more about patching him up a little and the like after the fight? you characterise him so well!! thank you! 💖
"I ALWAYS DO, DON'T I?"
CONTENT. sfw ! angst + fluff ! gender neutral reader ! mentions of blood, physical injury for both reader + Alastor, um... Alastor has the ability to heal ppl? and sutures/stitches. wc. 1.9k
LOVE NOTES. I'm so glad people are enjoying that one so much ! I had so much fun writing that but I haven't written in so long (and even longer for hazbin characters...) thank you so, so much, sweet nonnie <33 as a writer, I think that hearing we've accomplished good characterization is one of the best compliments we could get <3
continuation of this piece — part 1
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ALASTOR
The world seemed the slow as the battle came to an end. Pools of golden blood seeped into Hell's deep-red soil, creating a tragically beautiful yet grim scene before you. Corpses littered the ground around you as far as you could see, each lifeless body slowly growing colder with each passing minute. And yet, happiness permeated the air around you. The stench of death and despair was quickly overpowered by the relief of finding each of your companions, each of your friends, as the smoke of war finally cleared.
The shock of Sir Pentious' death still lingered in the solemn glances you sent one another, but the weight of Angel's hand on your shoulder, and the warmth of Charlie's arms around you helped you remember what he had died fighting for.
Everyone was still here. You had each just done the impossible, and even if your victory meant the accumulation of shattered halos and stains of glittering gold under your nails, then so be it. Those god-forsaken exorcists had it coming.
Yet, something was off.
Your eyes scanned through the small crowd, and even though you grew more and more elated with each smiling face you recognized, there was one in particular you had yet to see.
"Hey... you're hurt," Angel says, his voice soft and endearing.
Your eyes follow his, meeting with an angry, red gash on your upper arm. It hadn't hurt in the heat of the moment when that angel had lunged at you, spear in-hand and wings spread far enough to block out your view of the sky above but now, with the adrenaline beginning to wear off, you could feel the dull ache start to turn into more of a sharp jolt with every move.
"I'm...I'm okay," you smile at Angel, lifting your other arm to place a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the sudden surge of pain as much as you can when he pulls you into a hug instead.
When Angel pulls away, you begin toward the rubble of the hotel, navigating through upturned stones, cracked slabs of concrete, and a various mixture of bodies and debris from the attack. Your hands and knees were already far too scraped and raw for you to care about the damage done by the few times you nearly fell over the loose rocks. You let out a breath you weren't even aware you were holding as you spot Alastor's radio tower in the distance. It was still primarily in one piece, despite it now leaning at an unnatural angle. But the dull, slow flashing on the red light shining through the windows ignites a spark of hope in your chest.
The air seemed to grow thicker as you approached the tower. If the probability of Alastor being inside hadn't been so very high, you would have followed every inch of your instinct that screamed at you to leave. But this was just too important to risk. Alastor was the one person who had not been spotted after the battle's end. But you were sure he was still alive. He had to be... right?
The thought alone is what propels you to lean into the wooden trapdoor that led inside, pushing with more effort than usually necessary. You bite your lip to suppress a groan as your arm begins to shake under the strain, but the door begins to opens with a groan.
The scene before you in certainly an unexpected one. It's not as if anyone would have walked away unharmed from this fight, but seeing Alastor of all people hunched over the booth's control panel immediately sent worry rushing through your veins.
"Alastor...?" you mutter softly, trying your best to not startle him.
He whips around to face you, his eyes glowing with his signature dials as his ears pin back against his head. He seethes as his antlers begin to stretch out and grow at the sound of another voice, but his expression softens a bit once he realizes it's only you.
"I'm fine. You shouldn't be here," he states curtly, his voice void of its usual static despite the smile that still remains plastered across his face. But this time, it doesn't reach his eyes. Not even in the slightest.
He strains to turn away from you and your eyes slowly travel over his form, taking in each rip and tear on his tattered suit, making sure that nothing new graced his figure before you spot the nasty gash along his chest.
"Alastor-" you repeat, taking a step forward as your eyes remain glued to his wound. But he lets out a low growl-like noise that stops you in your tracks.
"I said I'm fine. Leave me."
Yet, you persist, closing in on him while resisting the urge to charge toward him to assess the damage. He was perplexed. He stared at you, bewildered. He was so used to people running from him, not toward him. And yet, here you are, mere inches from him as your face floods with worry—worry for him. Your hands move to his chest but they hover before reaching their target, opting to grant him one final chance to ask you to leave for good. But the words never come, and you're left wondering if they merely got stuck in his throat, or if they had never been intended to begin with.
"Let me help. Please," you breathe, itching to touch him, to make sure he was okay.
He remains silent, his palm pressed tight against the laceration on his chest as you stare up at him. Perhaps if someone, anyone, had looked at him with the sincere, earnest look you were giving him now, things might have turned out differently when he was alive. But then again, that would mean that he never would have the pleasure of stumbling across your meager little existence here in Hell. And you wouldn't be here now, making sure he was alright.
Making sure the Radio Demon was alright... just how foolish could you be? Then again, you were the one person who worried enough about him to seek him out, even if it meant you risked seeing him in his moment of weakness. You were the one person who dared to press a kiss to his cheek when you thought that very moment with him could possibly be your last.
Alastor closes his eyes as he remembers the warmth of your lips on his skin, and his ears perk up as he hears your voice again.
"I can't leave you like this. Let me help you," this time, your voice softens in a plea.
Let me help you.
The words ring through his mind as he watches you work, not making an effort to interfere with your deft fingers as you work to rid him of his coat before you loosen his tie and undo the topmost buttons of his shirt.
Neither surprise nor fear infiltrate your gaze as you take in the severity of his wound, now on full display to you. Instead, your eyes narrow in focus as you collect gauze and polyester thread from a nearby first-aid box that had been haphazardly disregarded onto the floor at some point during the last few hours. You're quick with your work, gently dabbing away blood from the edges of the cut before threading the small, curved needle. Alastor's face remains relatively plain, still graced with a smile even during the few times he allows himself to hiss in pain.
"I'm sorry... do you need a minute?" you ask, the genuine tenderness in your tone catching him by surprise.
He only shakes his head.
His smile is strained, but that felt only natural under such circumstances. Then again, it left you wondering just what kept him smiling so often.
You gesture for him to lift his arms as you wrap the bandage around his chest before stopping to check over your handiwork. Alastor seems to do the same, relatively impressed by your quickness in the matter. His fingers graze over the bandage, smoothing it down before buttoning his shirt again. He begins to make himself look presentable, smoothing down his coat and straightening his tie before grabbing his cane, twirling it once in his hand before turning to look at you.
Alastor was yet again back to his normal self. His signature smile now settled back into its normal state, imbued with confidence and his usual overzealous malice. He straightens his posture, now towering over you as per usual and nothing seemed to be out of place. His recovery seemed so sudden that you were sure if anyone were to see him now, there would be no question of anything being any different only moments before.
"Why, thank you, my dear," Alastor bows, taking your hand and pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "Satan only knows what I would have done with you." Now it's your turn to be caught off guard by his sudden touch, but that seemed to be the theme of the hour.
He smiles down at you, but something seemed different about this smile. It felt... softer. More real. You return his smile, hoping that alone would help overwrite the painfully vulnerable moment he allowed you to witness.
It's only then, in his moment of revitalization, that he recognizes the scent of blood. But this time it was different. It wasn't his own. His eyes immediately fall to your shoulder and his gaze hardens.
"It seems you're hurt as well," he states, his voice dripping with a bitter fury that shone through his eyes despite the nonchalance he tried to convey.
"I'll be alright-" you start, only for him to grasp your arm, light enough as to not hurt you further, but firm enough to allow him to inspect your injury throughly. "It's just a scratch."
His eyes narrow as he raises a hand to ghost over your arm before a green glow emits from his fingers. There's an odd tingling on your arm before the feeling subsides along with Alastor's hand. You take a moment to gauge his work, finding that he had not only mended your arm, but the tear in your sleeve as well.
Words elude you. It feels like something far more substantial than a mere 'thank you' was necessary, but those were the only words that fell from your lips.
"It's a good thing you came to me first," he chides, this time linking your arm with his.
"I just... wanted to make sure you were okay," you reply.
"Of course I would be. What ever would convince you otherwise?" he wraps an arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the door. Static filters his voice again and he's looking down at you, expectantly. You hadn't truly started to doubt him, had you?
"Nothing, of course," your smile falters, "I was just... worried that you wouldn't come back for a moment there."
Alastor freezes, for once letting his façade fade. He had made you a promise during the battle—an unspoken one, but a promise nonetheless—right after you had revealed how you truly felt for him, and he had repaid your tender affections by simply vanishing without a trace.
He laughs heartily before grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own. His expression softens just a bit.
"If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, my dear," he pauses for a moment, searching your face to ensure that he had every ounce of your attention.
"I always do, don't I?"
And with that, his hand finds the small of your back, leading you back out under the red sky.
368 notes · View notes
megamindsecretlair · 6 months
Text
Have Mercy
A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!
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Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.
Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.
Word Count: 5,284k
A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!
Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings
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“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.
“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 
Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.
“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 
You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 
Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 
“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 
Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 
“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 
The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 
You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 
You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 
You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 
“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 
He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 
“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.
“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.
You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.
“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 
“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 
He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 
“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 
You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 
“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 
He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 
The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 
You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.
“You trynna find out?” He asked. 
“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 
Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.
You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 
You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 
“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.
“What you say that for?” You asked.
“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.
His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 
“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 
“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.
Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 
Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?
“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 
The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 
He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.
The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 
“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 
You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 
“Been a while,” you said. 
He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.
You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 
“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 
You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.
Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 
His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.
He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 
“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 
“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 
“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 
A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 
“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 
“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 
“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 
Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 
Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 
He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.
He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 
He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.
He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 
This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.
Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.
“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 
You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 
Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 
“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 
You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 
Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 
You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 
He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.
“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 
You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 
You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.
You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 
Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 
“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 
You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 
“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 
“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 
“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 
Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 
He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 
You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 
He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 
He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 
He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 
He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 
Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.
“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 
“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 
“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 
The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.
Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 
“Please, please,” you said. 
“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 
“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 
“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 
“What?” 
“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 
“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 
He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 
Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 
“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 
You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 
You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 
“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 
When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 
Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 
He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.
How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 
Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.
“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.
You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 
“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.
You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.
He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.
“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 
“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 
“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.
Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 
He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 
You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 
“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 
You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 
He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 
He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 
Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 
Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.
He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.
“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 
“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 
“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 
His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 
He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 
“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 
You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 
After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 
“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 
“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 
He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 
“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 
He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.
You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 
“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 
He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 
“Please, no more,” you said. 
“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 
You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 
“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 
You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 
He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 
Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 
On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 
He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 
As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 
Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 
“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 
You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 
“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 
“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 
He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 
“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 
Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 
“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 
You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.
“I know,” he said. 
He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.
“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 
He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 
He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 
“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 
“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 
Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 
You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.
&&&
You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files
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joejoequinnquinn · 7 months
Text
Faint of Heart (Part 3)
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader
Summary: You don’t know his name, but Eddie becomes a regular at your diner. Scared you’ll run like everyone else, he can’t bring himself to tell you how he feels, until…
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: Mild angst, maybe? Reader finally discovers Eddie’s name. 18+ for future content 🔞
A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on this fic. Sorry this one took a little longer than I hoped. If you enjoy, please reblog to support fic writers! 🫶🏻🥰
SERIES MASTERLIST
•••
•••
Music plays as the two of you move in tandem to the beat, a perfect dance of joined hearts - synchronicity and duality. Your body is led by his strong hands, holding firm, warmth at your waist. Mouth brushing skin as you’re spun and pulled back to his chest, melting under the heat. Fingers trace his strong jaw, urging him forward into your space - plush, pink lips so close and inviting you can almost taste them - until a rhythmic banging has his head rearing back. You follow the sound with your gaze but see nothing, black and white diner tiles stretching into darkness beneath your feet. Reaching for his face again, you see only a sad smile on his lips. The banging continues and your soul cries as his image starts to fade, slipping from your grip like smoke blown away on the breeze…
You wake with a start, heart thumping in your chest, pulse throbbing between your legs. Again. That’s the fourth time in a week you’ve dreamt of him. Blinking slowly against the sting of consciousness, harsh red light from the bedside table tells you that your quick afternoon nap turned into a five-hour sleep of the dead. The banging from your dream starts up again, louder this time. Grumbling against the ache in your back, you pull yourself up and off the bed, stumbling bleary-eyed down the hall towards the offending noise at your door.
A quick glance through the peep hole has you squeaking in realisation. You fumble with the door handle, flinging it wide open until you’re stood with what you can only hope is an apologetic smile on offer to your dearest, oldest friend, Lisa.
“Finally!” She huffs, gliding past you in a haze of strong perfume “I called three times before I left, and I’ve been hammering on your door for 20 minutes - pretty sure more than one of your neighbours was about to call the cops to have me thrown out of the building for noise disturbance__”
Lisa stops mid sentence to look you up and down, make up not removed before your nap, eyes still struggling to fully focus, pyjama shorts and an old oversized band tee adorning your body, crinkled to oblivion. She frowns, an accusatory finger pointing your way.
“You forgot I was coming over”
“No I didn’t…” You lie.
You also did NOT forget to take off your shift at the diner tonight for the girl’s night out you’d promised her six weeks ago.
No, no.
It had just slipped your mind…permanently.
So, now you’re stood outside a bar you’d never normally frequent called The Hideout at your friend’s insistence. You don’t mind all that much, in fact you’re grateful to have a new distraction for a few hours - heaven knows you need to think about something other than Sunny for once. He’s on your mind all the time - you see a guy with long hair at the store, and suddenly you’re thinking of his mahogany curls, which leads you to think about how those curls would tickle your face if he were to lean in to kiss you. Just yesterday you’d burnt your finger on the waffle maker as your mind had drifted to thoughts of him that were very much not appropriate for someone whose name you didn’t even know.
Your butter yellow diner uniform is covered by a calf length trench coat to keep out the evening chill. You feel ridiculous coming here dressed for work, but your shift starts right after the band Lisa wants to see is due to finish - so it was this, or not go. You pull the belt of your coat tight at the waist, cinching the material to at least give yourself a little shape, applying a final swipe of bright red lipstick to take focus off your lack of outfit.
Thick smoke gathers above your heads as you enter, it hangs heavy and stubborn in the air while you make your way through the small crowd. Bodies fill the floor space in front of the bar, sweat and cheap cologne making your nose twitch. You’re certain you feel a hand on your ass as you pass an older guy with more fingers than teeth. Lisa tugs you tighter to her side, snarling at the man in question until he shrinks back on his bar stool.
The Hideout is pretty much as you expected, really. All dark wood floor, complete with stains and divots from years of rowdy activity. There’s a modest stage set up on the far side, complete with red and white lighting, a spotlight illuminating the band’s name emblazoned on the bass drum: Corroded Coffin.
•••
Pink and orange sunlight shifts through the diner window, a kaleidoscope of colours painting itself across your skin as he holds you in his arms, mesmerised. Bodies press together, heat and want filling his chest until he can’t bear the pressure. Breathy laughter tickles his ear, warm hands creep under his clothes. Music blasts from the jukebox, filling the space only the two of you occupy. You’re dancing away, leading him towards the counter - coaxing, encouraging, pleading for his touch. Feet float over ever stretching black and white tiles as he tries to reach you. No matter how fast he attempts to go, you stay frustratingly shy of his fingertips. There’s sudden ringing in his ears, loud and unwelcome. You hear it too, just as he manages to fight through the resistance to lay his hand upon your cheek. You shake your head sadly and turn to glass, shattering into a thousand pieces beneath his touch…
Eddie wakes choking on air, flinging his legs over the side of the bed as he splutters and gasps for breath - clutching at the front of his t-shirt, now damp with sweat.
He curses at the strident ringing that echoes from the phone down the hall, wobbly legs staggering towards the noise as he rubs knuckles into his eye sockets in a bid to clear the sleep fog he’s still under, grabbing the phone so hard it nearly rips off the wall.
“Yeah?” Eddie snaps, voice rough, still pissed at being woken from his dream.
“Eddie!” It’s Gareth’s voice “Fucking finally, man - we’ve been calling you over and over with no answer!”
“And yet still you kept trying…”
His sarcasm is lost down the line in a cacophony of noise as the rest of his band mates start calling out at the same time. Something about going too hard at practice and shit hitting the fan, one of their amps ‘exploding’, followed by laments about how Jeff would make a crappy electrician.
“Enough!” Eddie yells, fist twisting itself into the wall as he sucks in a deep breath to try and keep his composure “One at a god damn time…”
Gareth leaps in frantically to explain one of the main amps has blown, that it’s beyond repair, that if they can’t replace it with another by tonight the gig will have to be cancelled at the last minute and their reputation ‘…will be in shreds!’
“Is that it?” Eddie huffs “Jesus Christ- you know I have a spare, guys - calm the fuck down. You’re so dramatic.”
“I told them you did!” Jeff pipes up in the distance “but no, they all wanna pile in on little old Jeff, who was just trying to help!”
The conversation descends into chaos again, the others telling Jeff to stop talking about himself in the third person because he sounds like an ass, Gareth insisting it’s always best to double check with their frontman and not assume. Eddie closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward with a loud thump onto the wall. He loves his friends, he does, but they sure are a bunch of idiots sometimes.
“Everybody shut up!” He demands, and instantly is granted silence “Now, I’m going to go back to sleep and I’ll see you dumbasses in a few hours. Don’t call me again unless Jeff electrocutes someone. Maybe not even then…”
He slams the phone back into its cradle, padding back into the safety and comfort of his bedroom. He needs this gig tonight more than ever. Needs that mask of confidence to hide behind. Needs to pull on the cloak of ‘Eddie Munson - Showman’ so he can escape ‘Eddie Munson - Freak’ for a few blissful hours.
Throwing himself back onto the bed, Eddie sinks into his pillow and stares forlornly at his ceiling. The dreamt memory of your fleeting touch lingers tantalisingly in the air. He can’t get you out of his mind lately - if you knew the way he’d been dreaming about you, you’d probably run a mile. The things he wants to do to you, the places he wants to feel your perfect lips…
Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and sighs heavily with realisation. Every time he closes his eyes, it’s your face that fills the black behind them. Your smile that sparkles like sunshine hitting the ocean, your voice that soothes his mind like honey, purring imagined sweet nothings.
Like a wildflower, you’ve sown yourself into the soil of his heart and grown roots. Bit by bit - day by day - his feelings for you spread further, burrow deeper…and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
•••
Lights dim around you, spotlight beaming at the empty stage as a small crowd full of excitement begins to gather in anticipation. You hadn’t realised there was such a buzz about some small local band you’d never heard of, but Lisa insists you’re going to love them. You manage to secure the last table slightly off to the side. It’s a good location - close enough to have a decent view of the band, with a clear path to the bathrooms and the bar.
A baby faced guy with curly hair steps up on to the stage, twirling his sticks in the air to an enthusiastic ripple of applause and a couple of whooping calls as he settles himself behind the drums. Leaning back in your seat, a flash of icy chill spreads quickly across your shoulder - you bite back a screech and lurch forward, twisting quickly to find an older, balding man unsteady on his feet and full of apologies for spilling his drink on you. Waving away his drunkenly slurred offer to get some napkins, you’re shrugging off your jacket to drape it over the back of your chair in the hopes it will dry out when a vaguely familiar voice booms over the speakers.
“Hello Hawkins!”
You hadn’t seen the rest of the band arrive on stage, but a loud cheering around you confirms that’s what happening. Lisa slaps you repeatedly on the thigh and yells for you to turn around.
“That’s him!” She hisses “That’s the super hot frontman I told you about!”
You’re chuckling to yourself and all set to roll your eyes - she thinks every guy in a band is hot - but then you see him.
“Good evening ladies, gents, lovers and losers - you ready to have fun?”
There’s no way. It can’t be.
But it is.
It’s Sunny. On stage. In a band.
Your body feels like a human torch, insides turned to kerosene and he’s the flame dangerously close to making you explode, grabbing the microphone with both hands as he talks to the crowd, cupping it between his palms and bringing it to his lips. His lips - shiny with spit as his tongue licks over them deliciously.
“My name’s Eddie, and if you didn’t already know - we’re Corroded Coffin! Let’s do this!”
It’s a fever dream. You watch dumbfounded as your favourite grumpy customer transforms before your eyes. Gone is the guy who hides his face with that curtain of curls, who sits quietly to eat his food as if he’s got the burden of the world resting on his shoulders, the one who’s taken months just to build up to exchanging small conversations with you.
With streaks of black eyeliner now adorning his face - and nails painted darker than the night sky, he bursts into the intro of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, your heart almost seizing in your chest as you watch them absolutely smash the classic out of the park, vibrations from the speakers reverberating through the floor making your thighs clench hard.
“I need someone to show me
The things in life that I can't find
I can't see the things that make
True happiness, I must be blind”
Sunny - Eddie - launches himself into the guitar solo, fingers caressing the notes from his strings, eyes closed and lost in the moment. His head tips back and reveals the thick column of his neck, tendrils of his scars reaching from the collar of his slashed t-shirt up towards his jawline. The puckered white-silver flesh almost shimmers beneath the spotlight - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.
“They’re awesome, right?” Lisa’s voice snaps you back to your senses.
You can’t speak, mouth so dry it feels full of cotton, so you nod without letting your eyes slip away from the stage for a single second. Your gaze stays trained on him for the entire performance, drawn in by the way he struts around for the crowd like a peacock shaking his tail feathers - this version of him is confident, cocky, commanding.
In a brief pause after their set, the drummer is taking over conversation with the crowd - some joke about an electrician that goes right over your head - but the only thing you’re paying attention to is the way Eddie saunters leisurely to your side of the stage, taking a beer from the outstretched hand of someone hidden behind an amp. You swallow hard as he wipes the cold glass bottle along his sweat glistening forehead, your fingers digging hard into the flesh of your thighs when you watch his mouth slot around the rim as he drains the drink effortlessly. Seeing his throat bob rhythmically while he swallows has your pulse throbbing everywhere all at once.
Forcing yourself to look away, you bring your drink to your lips, gulping it down and finding slight relief in the way the cool liquid seems to help quell the fire raging inside your chest. It’s as you place the empty glass back on the table you catch sight of the watch on Lisa’s wrist. Your shift starts in fifteen minutes.
Shit.
Gathering your jacket over your arm, and grateful for the cover of relative darkness among the crowd, you tug a very reluctant Lisa to her feet and try to manoeuvre yourselves away from the table to head for the exit unnoticed. The sudden flash of your yellow uniform is all it takes to gain Eddie’s unbridled attention.
“Leaving so soon ladies?” His voice, now low and raspy from singing, stops you in your tracks “Was it something I said?”
Gareth gives a ba-dum-tssh on the drums and there’s raucous laughter from the swell of intoxicated bodies in the crowd.
Lisa spins, joining the laughter by flipping him the bird, her hand on your elbow forces you to turn with her and you feel yourself stop breathing when Eddie’s eyes finally meet yours.
Invisible to anyone else, only you can see him grappling internally to keep the cool, collected, rockstar mask from slipping - it’s in the way his eyes fleetingly go wide in recognition, jaw dropping slack just long enough for you to spot him falter before he regains composure, clears his throat and leans forward, grabbing the mic on its stand with both hands.
“Well…hello, you” Eddie drawls, head cocking to the side with a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Wait - do you know him?” Lisa whisper shouts, and you want the ground to swallow you up as the number of eyes on you increases ten fold.
“I’ll tell you later, shut up!” You hiss
Eddie watches you from his vantage point on stage and huffs a bemused chuckle at the exchange - it’s amplified by the mic he’s still leaning into and you feel the vibrations rocket through the air, straight to your chest.
His smile bends into a smirk, arm rising to sweep across his forehead as the sweat continues to gather teasingly in droplets - and against your better judgement, you’ve started to wonder how they’d taste on your tongue.
“Oh, I think you’re gonna want to stay for the encore, Sugar…”
There isn’t time for you to register the pet name properly before he places his guitar pick between his teeth with a grin and holds your gaze, a shiver trickling from the base of your skull down between your shoulder blades. It tingles along your spine, making you stand straighter and lean a little closer.
Your pulse speeds up as the intro begins to Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard. He plays this every day at the diner on the jukebox, and you’re not quite sure why that makes your heart leap in your chest like a Jack-in-box, but you can’t stop your mind from wanting this to be a deliberate choice. Some kind of signal that maybe - maybe - he thinks about you when he hears this song, too.
You need to leave, but you can’t. Clyde will have to cover for you, just this once. It’s not like you haven’t bailed him out a hundred times in the past.
Right now, you have tunnel vision and Eddie’s the only person in the room. Everyone else in the building has faded to black as you watch him standing front and centre, shining bright like a homing beacon whose call you can’t ignore. It’s like someone’s hooked you up to the electrical socket on the wall, the way sparks buzz through your limbs and light up your body as he walks to the side of the stage purposefully to catch your eye again.
“I'm hot, sticky sweet
From my head to my feet, yeah…”
He sings it right at you, tongue hanging from his mouth with a cheeky wink, left hand sliding up the fret board into the guitar riff until he spins towards the bass player, hair whipping around in a frenzy, droplets of sweat flying off his curls caught in mid-air under the spotlight.
The oxygen has been stolen from the air around you - it’s like you’re slowly suffocating while watching Eddie’s nimble fingers move with skill and precision on the strings of his guitar. Drowning under his spell, happy to let the water of his voice fill your lungs and send you to heaven.
Raucous applause and cheering erupts as their epic showstopper finally draws to a close, you’re granted brief reprieve from Eddie’s intense gaze as he turns his back on the crowd to have a moment with his band mates - the baby faced drummer flinging his sticks into the air to chants from the increasingly intoxicated revellers.
Barely able to stop your hands from shaking with adrenaline, your stomach lurches as Eddie looks purposefully over his shoulder to where you’re still stood. Wet curls stick to his face, sweat dripping from his lightly stubbled jaw down along the vein still pulsing in his neck. His eyes lock on yours, a pair of raging flames.
Flames for you?
You’re trapped in his crosshairs as he walks slowly to the edge of the stage and jumps off, heavy boots landing with an echoing thump on the worn wooden flooring as the crowd begins to disperse, people drifting away in twos and threes to order more drinks or play a drunken game of pool. He only makes a single step before two of his band mates are grabbing his shoulders with excited squeals and taking him away in the other direction.
Bubbles burst and deflate in your chest, leaden feeling settling as you watch, crestfallen, while his band mates animatedly introduce Eddie to a small group of very enthusiastic young ladies. You see fawning hands reach for his toned arms, heat surging to your face for an entirely different reason.
“Let’s go…” You murmur, spinning fast to thread your hand through Lisa’s elbow, legs carrying you as fast as they can through the door and out into the desperately needed cool air.
•••
He knows you’re there, your eyes still bore a hole in the back of his head, burning like his insides have the entire time since his eyes locked on yours. Eddie aches to talk to you, excusing himself at the first opportunity and crossing the stage.
Excitement swells in his chest, bursts of light tingling to his fingertips, boots landing heavy on the wooden floor.
Gareth is the first to grab his shoulders, Jeff tugging him round a second later. He hears the noise but not their words, and reluctantly changes course while they lead him to the far side of the room. It’s the same old story - drunken college girls wanting to hook up with the band - and he wishes he could rip the book into a thousand tiny pieces and burn it to oblivion.
He’s not interested in mindless conversation and inevitable disappointment. None of these girls would give him the time of day if it weren’t for his guitar. They overlook his scars for the purpose of a ‘cool’ notch on their bedpost and a fun story to share with their friends.
Small hands clasp his forearm, dainty fingers trace up to his bicep - yet his eyes only look over their shoulders to search for you.
A flash of yellow rushing out into the night, the hope of you disappearing with it, is what deflates his chest faster than a pin to a balloon.
•••
•••
Thank you so much for reading 🥰
I really hope you enjoyed it. Part 4 is here!
515 notes · View notes
screeching-bunny · 6 months
Note
Helloooo my fave yandere!character writer! I hope your having a wonderful day! Can i request yandere!jock with male!reader and he finds the reader crying bc someone was bullying them or said smth mean or smth like that? Ik he would be pissed but i was thinking something along the lines of this:
*Reader explains what happens*
*Yandere!Jock absolutely pissed and turns to go beat the shit out of them*
Then the reader would grab is arm to stop him and say smthing like: “wait!…please…..please just….stay with me….please?” Like EEEEEEE I LOVE YANDERE!JOCK SMMMM AND IMA PASS OUT IF YOU DO THIS! OKAY THANKS BYE
(Also plz ignore if your requests are closed rn)
Yandere! Jock x Male Reader
Asks 2
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Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Reader is specifically going to be Male in this post!!!
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Asks 1
Yandere! Jock liked looking at you whether it be intention or not his eyes were almost always on you. He loved looking at every expression you made throughout your day to day life and practically memorized every fine detail on your face. So it was no surprise that he was instantly alerted when he saw a hint of sadness appear on your face when you came in for your afternoon class. Like a little leach he started attaching himself towards you with a concerned look on his face to find out what had happened to his little darling but alas his attempts reamied futile as you refused to give him an answer that he accepted.
“I’m just tired and just didn’t get that much sleep last night.”
Tired his ass. Yandere! Jock knew for a fact that you fell asleep early last night while watching an animal documentary. How does he know this? Well, he was stalking I mean watching over you last night. Anyways the sentence “The giant horse cock weighs over eight pounds” was still fresh in his mind but that's not the point! The point is something or someone made you upset! This is honestly so absolutely unacceptable!! When class finishes he ends up cornering you to try and figure out what has happened to you. Soon you start to give in and tell him the exact reason as to why with tears bawling out of your eyes.
When he finds out the reason he is beyond pissed. A bunch of npc bullies had the audacity to go and bully you! There is nothing he wants to do then skin those losers alive for making you cry like this. How fucking dare they. Yandere! Jock immediately decides that at that moment, he would go on a manhunt. He genuinely believes that it’d be a good riddance, no way in hell is someone going to miss them. As he tries to get up, he is immediately stopped by you as you grab ahold of his arm.
“Please stay, I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Holy shit! That sentence damn near put him in a coma. He just can’t believe how adorable you are. With that, he decides right away to bring you to his home in order to comfort you. The rest of the day is spent with just the two of you guys together while watching Netflix and ordering out to eat. All of his plans that he had before were canceled in favor of being by your side. He does his best to make you happy and laugh as much as possible. That smiling face of yours suits you better than a teary eyed expression. Although he can’t do it now, he vows to absolutely destroy the lives of your bullies. The mental and physical wellbeing of yourself matter more than anything in the world to him. Anything that causes harm to you he quickly deals with even if it means people. All that he wants is that you’ll be safe in his arms and by his side whenever he wakes up.
He makes it a point to prove the words of you tormentors were false and does his best to undo their claims. He’d be so appalled by the whole situation and just can’t wrap around his head at how someone could be mean to you. Like just look at you! You’re literally perfect what the hell were they smoking when they decided to verbally assault you. Yandere! Jock would be so overbearing and clingy towards you. Wherever you went he was close behind you. You’re going grocery shopping? Cool he’s right by your side. You gotta go to class? He’s right by you. Even if he doesn’t have the class he’s still coming. Showering? Move over and make room, he wants to shower as well. Is totally the type to throw a fit when you say no which causes you to relent and let him follow you.
In a few weeks after this incident there were missing people reports all over town of local college students. The same ones who coincidentally were vicious towards you. Everytime Yandere! Jock walks past these posters, he has a hidden smug look on his face. Justifies it by saying that he’s doing it in the name of love and that those people were the spawns of Satan. Besides, they're not even dead yet. They’re just trapped in a cabin in some random woods that only he has access to. Content with himself he spends his days by your side and pledging to himself that he’d never let anyone bother you ever again.
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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months
Text
Repentance
Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader
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('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)
Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)
Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')
Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.
                            -¤°》◇《°¤-
Have you ever killed a man?
I might.
Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.
How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?
I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.
Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?
Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.
Goddammit.
Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.
"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?
"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.
"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.
"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.
"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.
"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."
It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.
Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.
...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?
It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.
"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.
No response.
Maybe it's safe.
Maybe he's dead.
Maybe he'll stay quiet.
I lay my head down once more.
"...what?"
"You fucking snore."
"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"
"Yeah, let me sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak."
I am weak. I am very, very weak.
"Put your dick away."
"It isn't out."
"I can still feel it."
With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.
With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.
I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.
"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.
"I followed blanket," he slurs.
"It's mine."
"I was cold."
"You snore."
"I've offered consolation, you should take it."
"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.
"Fucking what?"
"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.
Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.
"...no?"
"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."
Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.
"... should I go back to bed?"
"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."
"That's a great idea."
"I'll take the blanket."
"You do that."
It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.
When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.
"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."
Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.
"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.
"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."
He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.
"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.
My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.
"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.
"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.
"William, I will not shoot you."
"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."
"Willy-"
"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."
"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"
"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.
"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."
"I know, I packed lunch too."
Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.
"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."
"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.
"I'm not answering that."
Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.
"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.
"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."
"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.
"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.
If this is repentance, he should snore more often.
I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.
His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.
"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."
I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.
"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."
Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.
His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.
"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.
"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.
"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"
Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.
"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.
"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.
His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."
I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.
"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.
"Yes," I say just as soft.
"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."
His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.
Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.
"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."
He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.
"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."
"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."
That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.
"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.
"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."
At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.
"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.
He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."
He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.
"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."
I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.
Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.
"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"
I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.
"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"
I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.
"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.
"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.
"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?
"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."
His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.
"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."
Moo, bitch. Moo.
With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.
"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.
It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.
                              ▪︎》◇《▪︎
After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.
You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.
Taglist:
@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3
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slippinninque · 2 months
Text
✨ Pillow Time ✨
a/n: I've been inspired by the likes of @mcondance @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk and so many more of the lovely writers who has been feeding meeee wit the Fontaine thoughts! I hope you all like it!
warnings: Smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, Cursing, oral sex, cockwarming, needy!reader, softdomvibes!fontaine, long-fic
You had a very special pillow.
It was peach pink and white, made from the plushiest yarn that you found on a whim. It stayed fluffy and you could sit on it and still see the corners peek out when you're cross legged.
You often referred to it as one of your best creations. It reminded him of those cartoon pillows that would swallow anyone up if they sat in it. Ya'll had some good times with that pillow.
Fontaine called it your 'Princess Pillow'.
You were standing near him now, that pillow hugged to your body with your bright eyes peeking over the top at him. Fontaine was on the couch, rolling up and watching Coming to America.
"Feel like being good fo' me?" He asked, teasing as if he didn't know the answer. Fontaine watched you shift from one foot to the other, your smile fighting it's way onto your face as you nodded.
Nothing else for him to say. Fontaine widened his thighs and kept on rolling.
You'd toss the pillow onto the floor and shift close enough to be between his feet. He'd wait until you got comfortable, resting your cheek onto his thigh. While you rested there, Fontaine's attention returned to the TV.
Wasn't long before he felt the drawstrings being undone and sighed when your soft hands found him. He wasn't all the way hard yet, Fontaine knew that wouldn't be a problem.
Your lips suckled the head of his dick and Fontaine groaned softly at the drag of your tongue. A satisfied noise came from you and you sank down to the root of his dick. After a moment of shifting, you resettled and closed your eyes.
You swallowed around him, head bobbing as you fell into your own little world. Above you, Fontaine finished rolling his blunt and fired up. Taking a long pull while one of his hands went into your locs, scratching your scalp and rubbing the silky new growth between his fingers.
He blew the smoke up into the ceiling and murmured a few filthy praises. Pleasure was hooked to the tip of your tongue, in the patterns that grew more and more languid the more you relaxed into serving him.
You weren't in any hurry to make him cum, this part was all for you and Fontaine was just happy to be give you what you want.
When you went still, eyes glassy and slow blinking, Fontaine reached down and stroked the back of your neck.
"Gettin' what you need, baby?" He asked. Your answering mhmm vibrated right to his spine, "Mmn. That's good, pretty. Take your time, then."
You purred again and he had to take a breath to re-center. He could still remember how hesitant you were the first time you suggested this.
"I-I don't know if you think it's weird, we don't have too, I-I just really like having, um, you in my mouth?"
Fontaine would have bust on the spot had it not been for the gravity of the situation. You've been keeping this tucked to you for a long time, despite the laughing as you told him as if to soften the blow of his denial.
He kept his cool and reassured you that you could do anything with his dick that you wanted. In the meantime, Fontaine got ready so he could stay ready for you.
Fontaine absolutely made sure to keep his shit neat and trimmed for you and he switched to a soap that didn't have a strong fragrance. He looked up a few tips online to make sure he was taking good care of you and you weren't pushing yourself.
You rarely touched yourself. You prefer to rock against your pillow and often kneaded one of Fontaine's ankles as you savored him. It was the service, the act itself that brought you gratification. Knowing that you were being good to him, for him.
If left to your own devices, you would be down there for more than an hour. The record being two hours and some change as you both were immersed in the new Batman movie that finally started streaming.
He wanted to beat that record.
Presently, Fontaine's head was filled with a pleasant buzz as he smoked his blunt down to nearly half before it was put aside. On the TV, Hakeem finally touched down in New York in all of it's grimy splendor and to Semmi's dismay.
He was brought back by the quiet, kittenish noises coming from you as you nuzzled your nose into his coarse curls. It never ceased to amaze him how easily you could swallow him down. His hand went from your hair to the front of your neck this time, feeling as much as he could of how full of him you were.
"Look at you feelin' so good f'me, pretty. Can I play witchu? Hm?"
You nodded, putting your hands flat onto your thighs and relaxing into him. Fontaine rocked, ebbing and flowing his dick deeper down your throat with his eyes focused on yours. Your lashes fluttered shut with a sweet whine when he groaned, thrusting deep and flexing his dick in the velvet of your throat.
"Precious girl, right where you need to be. Doin' what you do best, look at that..."
Fontaine pulled his dick from your slick lips, pressing his first two fingers down onto your tongue. You were getting messy, spit twinkling along your face and down your throat.
He took off his tank and wiped your face with it.
You leaned into his touch and looked up at him, all floaty and tender, settled in that headspace that you were still too shy to talk about. Once your face was dry again, he leaned down to press a brief kiss to your soft lips after tossing his tank to the side.
Fontaine spent a moment rubbing and petting your face still, relishing in the pleasure of having such a vision willing to kneel for him and accept his care.
It was special, how you liked to please him. Different from anything he's ever encountered and much more than what he deserved--but Fontaine will be sure to be what you needed.
He spotted your wriggling and grinned in gold, "Still messy, baby?"
"Mmhm."
"Show me where."
Leaning back, you showed him the good-sized damp spot that darkened your pillow. All Fontaine had to do was lean in and you obediently leaned back onto your elbows, legs parting for him to look his full.
Fontaine whistled low, stroking himself at the sight of your ruined panties. He hadn't even known you bothered to wear any, but seeing your sweetie covered in the soaked cotton heated him.
In due time.
Fontaine crooked his fingers and you straightened at once, attention on where he held his dick for you. You got close enough or him to rub his dick across your face. When you opened up, your alluring tongue pink and perfect, he finally gave in. How could he not?
"Here you go, baby, take what you want 'cause once you're done--Imma do the same."
He didn't miss your shiver as you answered his words with a hard suck, making him moan and reach for the rest of his blunt.
............... ............. ............
END!
(or is it??? dundun duuuuun!)
a/n: Thank you for reading! I couldn't get this out of my head, lol! Tell me what you think!
taglist: @megamindsecretlair@thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful@8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@mysterychick93 @eggnox @notapradagurl7 @sageispunk @mcondance @hunnishive
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five-flavor-soup · 11 days
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This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.
In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 
But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 
That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 
Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 
Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:
Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.
(Added emphasis for my point)
Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 
By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.
And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 
In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:
The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.
And: 
I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.
I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.
Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 
There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.
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indydonuts · 4 months
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Two Against One - I Like Those Odds* (Zosan x fem!reader)
*Work has been retitled because I was too panicked about posting smut to think of something decent the first time ha
Every fic writer has two universes. There’s the canon one with the character development, intricate backstory and detailed storylines, then there’s the other one, which exists solely to fulfill whatever filthy fantasies you can think of, plot and characters be damned. (18+, MDNI)
So yeah, this is from that second one. Enjoy!
Summary: While enjoying a night off the Sunny, Zoro and Sanji agree to fulfill a certain fantasy of yours.
Notes: Zosan x fem!reader, established friends with benefits, poly/threesome
CW: Smut, PWP, fingering, lots of dirty talk, verbal humiliation, (18+ MDNI)
(Please let me know if I need to add anything!)
You fall back onto the bed with a soft thud. The linens are soft and plush, while the mattress itself is big enough to fit half of the Straw Hat Crew. 
"Last chance, Lovely," a male voice calls from the doorway.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" asks a second.
You look over at your two shipmates, Zoro and Sanji, as they enter the hotel room, both wearing matching expressions of seriousness.
You’d talked about this night weeks ago, proposing the idea over a few rounds of drinks. When the buzz faded but the interest remained, that’s when you started discussing the details. What was wanted from the experience, what the expectations were, do’s and do not’s, hard limits and boundaries — these were the things that made your arrangement work.
"Yes," you say softly, looking each of them in the eyes.
Zoro shakes his head. "Not good enough," he says, closing the few steps toward the bed. He cups your cheek and gently angles your face to look up at him. We've gotta hear you say it, Anata. Tell us what you want."
You shiver slightly and try to turn away, but Zoro holds your chin firmly, but gently, in place.
"We're not going one step further until you say it with your own words," he says flatly.
Scrunching your eyes shut, you lean into his touch and take a deep breath, digging deep down for some courage.
"I...I want you and Sanji to...bully me...in bed," you say softly, but loud enough to be heard.
Sanji casually walks over to stand beside Zoro.
"You know I'm never one to deny a lady what she wants," he says with a wolfish grin.
Zoro matches it with one of his own, softly stroking your cheek with his thumb. 
"I needed to hear it, because I'm not sure I'm gonna wanna stop once we start," he replies.
You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Goosebumps race across your skin in anticipation. There had to be something wrong with you for wanting this, right? You shouldn’t want to be at someone else’s mercy. You shouldn’t want to be used or played with like some kind of object. By all accounts, those are things you should avoid at any cost. 
Sanji sits down on your right as Zoro takes the place on your left. 
But something about this, about them having control, makes you feel safe while sending a thrill between your legs that you can’t explain. 
Your gaze darts between them, as if trying to figure out who will strike first.
Sanji snorts a laugh. "You look so cute, Lovely," he says, pulling you in for a soft kiss that tastes of smoke and spices. 
Strong arms wrap around you from behind, as Zoro leaves a trail of kisses across your neck. Sanji kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip, as his hand slides slowly up your thigh. Zoro bites the crux of your shoulder, pulling a soft moan from your lips. 
"We even got the fancy room so no one would complain about all the screaming you're about to do," he growls in your ear.
You let out a soft whimper, feeling the heat of a blush wash across your face as you melt at the words. Sanji gives a low chuckle before kissing you again. 
"You're so damn cute, I can't wait to taste every inch of you," he murmurs between kisses.
Zoro's hands slide lazily up your shirt to your breasts, his callused fingers finding your hardened nipples. You gasp as you arch into his touch. Sanji moves to suck on your neck, mixing in quick bites between licks and kisses. His hand traces aimless shapes along your thighs as it climbs higher, sliding beneath the hem of your skirt. You shift slightly, their touches both too much and not enough all at once.
Sensing your impatience, Zoro gives your nipples a sharp twist. You cry out his name and before you can even orient yourself, Sanji's fingers are rubbing against the damp fabric of your panties. 
You moan, your body writhing and twisting in both directions, pulled by each man's touch.
"Look how wet you are already, Lovely," Sanji breathes, pulling his hand away to reveal glistening fingers. "You're going to make such a mess."
Zoro leans over and puts Sanji's fingers in his mouth, slowly licking each digit. 
"Hey!" Sanji snaps.
"Why don't you come get a taste then, shitty cook?" Zoro challenges with a wicked grin.
"Fucker," Sanji mutters with half a smile before meeting Zoro in a deep kiss, savoring the taste of one lover on the mouth of the other.
You don't think it’s possible to blush any harder as the intimate moment unfolds inches in front of you. Was this how Sanji felt right before a nosebleed? 
When the two break apart, they take notice of your staring.
"Is someone getting jealous?" Zoro teases, nipping at your ear lobe.
"N-no!" you protest weakly, words deteriorating into moans as he moves to suck on a sensitive spot just below it. 
"We're sorry, Lovely," Sanji purrs, gently spreading your thighs a bit as he hikes up your skirt to slip a hand down your underwear. "We promise all the attention will remain on you tonight."
You let out a sound that’s caught between a sob and a moan as the blonde cook slowly rubs his fingers up and down your slit.
Zoro guides you gently onto your back.
"How the fuck are you still dressed?" he asks, before yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor. "We want to see everything."
The cool night air rushes over your skin, but you can't tell if it’s the chill or the lusty stares of the two men that make you tremble.
Your nipples harden in the exposed air.
"That looks painful," Zoro says, giving one a rough flick, causing you to flinch. "Let me warm it up for you."
He shifts down the bed to cup one of your breasts. He gives it a teasing lick before pulling it in his mouth and beginning to suck. 
"Well, we can't leave the other one neglected, can we?" Sanji teases, taking the opposite one in his mouth before sinking two fingers inside you.
You can't even form words, you just make sounds — pure, animalistic noise that begs for your partners to continue. 
Zoro adds his hand between your legs, his fingers making swift circles around your clit as Sanji thrusts in and out of you at a matching pace. You writhe beneath the two of them, hopelessly pinned. 
"You look so cute when you're about to cum," Zoro says gruffly. He's shifted to his side, weight braced on his forearm so he can get a better look at you. 
Sanji scrapes his teeth along your nipple before letting go with a wet pop.
"Look at you, enjoying two different hands," he teases. "We're gonna spoil you at this rate."
Their words send shocks of shame and excitement down your spine. You whimper and try to hide your face by turning towards the sheets.
"Hey now, don't hide," Zoro says, licking the exposed side of your neck. "We wanna watch the show."
You feel like you’re about to burst into flames. Between their wicked words and their hands, you’re almost at your limit.
"Come for us, Lovely," Sanji murmurs.
As if on command you come undone, moaning and screaming as the two men work every drop of ecstasy from you. 
Zoro plants a kiss on your temple. "That's one," he says with a smirk.
You’re still catching your breath. You’re not sure you'll survive a second one, but you were certainly willing to try.
--------
Thank you very much for reading! This is my first time posting smut in a long while and I'm kind of terrified. If it goes well and I can find the courage, there are parts 2 and 3 as well.
Okay byyyeeeee.
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