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luvfy0dor · 1 month

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“You Know That I'm Obsessed With Your Body ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, H.P. Lovecraft

Warnings; Suggestive, kisses, hickeys, bite marks, allusions to self harm (Dazai), sh scars (Dazai), prolly a little ooc

Description; BSD men and their physical attributes

A/n; CAS lyric title!!! But I cannot bring myself to write reqs RN so............but guys i actually talked to a guy OMG never thought I'd have big enough balls but I got his ig ^w^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

Chuuyas arms are beautiful to you, they're not insanely buff and they're not thin, but at a perfect equilibrium. They're decorated with intricate tattoos and beautiful colors, and sometimes small dotted lines left by your teeth or maroon spots formed by your love and passion for each other. You loved feeling them wrap around your torso or waist with him leaning his head against your back, letting all the thoughts in his mind flow from his mouth like a waterfall. Other times, he'd hang his arms over your shoulders, letting you feel his biceps against the nape of your neck, ghosting over the baby hairs on your skin. His arms can carry you too, no matter your weight. If it'd make you feel better, he'd use his ability to help and reassure you that he won't drop you or let you get hurt.

“There we go, darlin', see, I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. Literally not even the strongest gust of wind could knock me over with you right now, so quit worrying.”

⑅Osamu Dazai⑅

Dazai has such a gorgeous torso, bandaged or not. His skin is soft on contrast to the rough and volatile life he's always lead. The only patches of skin that aren't smooth are the ones that are littered with past scars, whether self inflicted or from other people. When Dazai trusts you enough, he'll ask you to help him take off his bandages before bed, letting your fingers brush over the rigid bumps and sharply inhaling while adjusting to your sweet touch in a new, naked place. He lets you kiss the scars and it helps him feel a little relaxed receiving your acceptance through soft kisses and affection instead of being pitied or shamed for his past. It's not like you encourage it, but you don't waste your breath on lecturing him on why he shouldn't have. It's in the past, so instead you'll offer your support for him now rather than dwelling on what you can't change.

“Mmnn...your lips are so soft on my back, baby...keep going, sweetheart, you know how much I love feeling your kisses on my skin...”

⑅Nikolai Gogol⑅

Nikolais thighs could resurrect a dead man, and you couldn't help but feel the same way every time you had your head between or against them. Occasionally your hands would hold them apart and squeeze or grope at them, feeling the firmness beneath the palm of your hand. The pressure from your fingertips leaves temporary pale spots with every pinch and your teeth and tongue leave red ones in your wake as you kiss, suck, and bite all over his thigh, and he loves it. Nikolai loves the harsh feeling of your teeth clamping around his skin, making him gasp and giggle in excitement with a hand on your neck encouraging you to continue. He's got a higher pain tolerance, so if you like to give lovebites, especially on thighs, he's your guy.

“Ah-! Oh, don't worry dove, it doesn't hurt. You know I have a good pain tolerance! You can keep going, hehe, I don't mind it.”

⑅Fyodor Dostoevsky⑅

Fyodors hands are thin and pale aside from some select spots with higher blood concentration. His nails are bitten down to the quick almost always and his fingers are bony and thin. They rest gently on your hips when you sit on his lap while he types or just relaxes with you, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of either your top or bottoms. Sometimes they'll travel upwards, resting against your midsection and making you shiver from their low temperature. He'd laugh under his breath at your reaction and slide them further up, loving the idea that he has you squirming in his grasp. Otherwise, he'd keep a hand on your thigh, rubbing it out of habit modestly. In public he keeps his hands to himself, but in private his hands have a mind of their own.

“Are they that cold, Moya Lyubov? You'll get used to it eventually, unless you'd like to find your own way to warm my hands up?”

⑅Sigma⑅

Sigmas jawline is so defined and Everytime you look at it, an overwhelming urge to kiss along it bubbles up inside of you. Sigma doesn't dislike it, but he'll act like he does, always squirming and playfully grimacing. Eventually he'll give in though, holding your hand while you pepper soft pecks along his skin. He'll return them all over your cheeks and nose, tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can't help but watch Sigmas fingers trace over his jawline while he's deep in thought about this that and the other, admiring how perfect it looks on him.

“H-hey, knock it off, I'm in the middle of fillin' out papers! I said quit it- huff...fine, just a few though! You're really distracting, you know that?”

Bonus; ⑅ H.P. Lovecraft⑅

His hair is so long and luscious- how could you not want to run your fingers through it while your sleepy boyfriend lays his head in your lap? The upper half is smooth and straight while it changes into silky curls towards the bottom, though they're not the tightest and allow for your fingers to brush through them with minimal effort. He loves the feeling of your hands against his scalp, giving soft hums and groans of a relaxed pleasure. His face has his usual neutrality regardless of how nice it feels to get his head massaged by his lover. He frequently lets you pull it into a ponytail or put it into braids or whatever style you please. He lets you brush it, too, as long as you start at the bottom instead of ripping the brush through his hair.

“Mnn...that feels nice, dear...don't mind if I fall asleep on top of you, I can't help it.”

A/n; I feel so bad for not getting to requests, something like this was the easiest thing to do this week though because I had mock trial comp right after school so i couldn't write anything from 8am-7;30 pm some nights and it was the end of the quarter so i had to focus more on school work.

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xiaq · 1 year

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Part 1 Here

Prompts combined for Pt. 2 are : Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an idiot (affectionate), Wayne Finds Out, and Everyone is Queer Because I Said So.

Wayne Munson knows he’s not the best parental figure. He never liked kids. Never wanted kids. And he nearly said no when the social worker called asking if he wanted to take guardianship of his thirteen-year-old nephew. Because surely there was someone better suited. Except then the social worker told him why Eddie had been removed from his father’s care. About the magazines Eddie’s father had found in Eddie’s backpack that preceded him kicking Eddie out. About the fights Eddie had been getting into at school. About the song lyrics his temporary foster had found in his journal. And suddenly Wayne wasn’t so sure there was a better option. He knew there had to be people more equipped to raise a traumatized queer teenager, but there was no guarantee Eddie would end up with one of them. The opposite was far more likely. Wayne knew firsthand that much of the world was unkind to people like them.

In the years that follow, they don’t talk about it. He figured once he’d won the kid’s trust, Eddie would bring it up in his own time. Or maybe Eddie would ask why Wayne spends a weekend in Indy once a month or maybe ask who he’s spending the weekends with. But somehow those conversations never happen and Wayne doesn’t force them.

It’s not until he finds Steve Fucking Harrington keeping vigil at Eddie’s hospital bedside that he thinks maybe he should have pushed the issue sooner.

Because Harrington looks like he’s been through a war. He’s covered in blood and grime; only his arms, washed to his elbows where he’s holding Eddie’s hand, are clean. He’s looking at Eddie with naked emotion. And, perhaps most damning, he’s wearing Eddie’s battle jacket.

When Wayne enters the room, Harrington startles and says, “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington,” like Wayne and everyone else in Hawkins weren’t already aware of that.

“I know who you are. I know who your father is, too.”

“I’d uh, prefer you didn’t hold that against me.”

Wayne makes no promises. “How do you know Eddie?”

“We’re…friends,” Steve says. There’s a continent of things unsaid behind the word.

“And how are you in his room past visiting hours?”

“I bribed the nurse," he admits. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Well. On that, we’re agreed. But I’m here now. And no offense, kid, but you look like you should be in one of these beds yourself.”

“Yeah. I told them once you got here I’d let them stitch me up. It’s not anything life-threatening.” He says this with the resigned intonation of someone who is familiar with the difference.

What the fuck has Eddie gotten himself involved in?

Harrington stands. It’s a slow, painful, movement, and he only lets go of Eddie’s hand at the last possible second. “Can I—I’d like to come back. After. If you don’t mind.”

Wayne considers him. He considers Eddie’s blood-smeared vest on the kid’s shoulders. He realizes, belatedly, that Eddie’s guitar pick necklace is hanging around Harrington’s bruised throat, the rings usually crammed onto Eddie’s fingers lined up on either side of the pick.

“Sure,” he says. “Be nice to have some company. And you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Harington sighs. “Not sure how much I’m allowed to tell. Or how much you’ll believe. But I can try.”

Wayne takes his place holding Eddie’s hand.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harrington stands in the doorway for more than a minute, just looking, before finally slipping into the hall.

He’s back a few hours later, clearly showered, wrapped in gauze, and wearing the preppiest goddamn outfit. Honestly, Wayne can’t fathom how Eddie and Harrington have anything in common. He’s also still wearing the necklace, though. And when he pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, he removes the necklace and carefully, downright tenderly, returns the rings to Eddie’s fingers. Wayne notices, almost despite himself, that Harrington isn’t just guessing at the placement, either. He knows. So either he’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s fingers––something that, as impossible as it sounds, is starting to seem more and more likely––or he’s particularly observant. And that kind of observance speaks to its own sort of devotion.

Wayne isn’t excited about either of these options.

He’s trying to figure out how to ask if Steve Fucking Harrington is Eddie’s boyfriend without scaring him away when Eddie shifts, which has Wayne and Steve both jumping to their feet.

“Wayne?” he murmurs. And Wayne isn’t one for emotional displays but he finds himself participating in one for the next few minutes nonetheless.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Eddie’s head turns, slow with painkillers, to see Harrington.

“Stevie,” he says, grinning. “Hey. I’m not dead.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Steve chokes out. His hands are fisted under his armpits and he looks about five seconds away from crying. Not that Wayne can judge since he’s more than five seconds into crying.

“What did I tell you, what did you promise?” Harrington snarls.

Eddie’s grin dims. “Not to be a hero. But Dustin––shit. Dustin. Is he...”

“Fine. Sprained ankle. Pissed as hell at you. Everyone else is fine too. Max is down the hall. She has some broken bones but she’ll be alright.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “How did I—“

“We went back for you.”

“We?”

“I,” Harrington grits out. “I went back for you. Thought you were dead. Carried you back anyway. Didn’t realize you were still breathing until we got you in the car. Drove like hell to the hospital.”

And that’s. Well, shit. Apparently, Wayne is going to need to temper his distrust of this particular Harrington. Because it sounds like he saved Eddie’s goddamn life.

“He also refused treatment and waited with you until I got here,” Wayne feels he has to add. “Despite the fact he was bleeding everywhere.”

Eddie glances between them, eyes huge. “Shit. I’m sorry. Hey, no, don’t––”

Steve is crying now, not even trying to hide it, and Eddie holds out a hand, wincing. “Come here, man, I’m fine. Or I’ll probably be fine, right?”

“So says the doctor,” Wayne agrees.

Steve doesn’t need a second invitation.

He all but collapses, carefully, into Eddie’s outstretched arms, and Eddie’s hands bunch into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and he crams his face into Steve’s neck and they’re so––their obvious, desperate, affection for each other is so unapologetic that Wayne has to look away.

It’s not until later, when they’ve hashed out the basics of the insane upside-down phenomenon, that they finally convince Steve to go home and sleep.

He waits ten seconds after the door has closed to exhale, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, kid. I knew you had expensive taste with cigarettes and guitars but this? He’s the closest thing to royalty this town has.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little warble of a laugh. “No. No, no. That’s not—we’re not.”

“What the hell are you then?”

“Friends. Bonded through extreme trauma.”

“But you’d like to be more than friends.”

Eddie looks at him askance “I’ll take what I can get and I won’t ask for more,” he says quietly.

Unfortunately, Wayne is well familiar with that kind of love. He just can’t get Steve’s expression out of his head. The gentle way he’d replaced Eddie’s rings. He doesn’t think Eddie’s interest is as one-sided as Eddie does. But he doesn’t want to meddle. He’s certain they’ll figure themselves out.

Two months later, Wayne is starting to think they’re both idiots. Because half the time when he gets home from his evening bar shift––a new job after the plant disappeared into the fiery abyss––Steve’s BMW is parked down the street and when he cracks Eddie’s bedroom door he finds them cuddled up, asleep. Sometimes he’ll go to rent a movie and Steve will be wearing a shirt that Wayne knows is Eddie’s and half the time when he wakes Eddie up in the mornings he’s wearing a pastel sweater monogrammed with initials that don’t belong to Eddie. He’d think they’re together and keeping it quiet if not for the fact that Eddie is driving him absolutely insane with pining. He’s written three songs about longing and heartbreak in the last two weeks and if Wayne has to listen to one more wailing ballad he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’s walking back from the bar after closing, only a mile from the new fancy trailer the government had installed for them when he passes Harrington’s conspicuous vehicle a few houses down. He sighs. The boy really has no sense of subtly.

He’s expecting to find them, as usual, asleep in a tangle of limbs, except when he reaches the porch stairs, he can hear the boys talking.

He pauses with his hand on the railing.

“What are you doing,” Eddie murmurs, voice just carrying from the open living room window.

“Well. I’d like to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

About damn time, Wayne thinks.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie says. And it’s so quiet, so uncertain, that Wayne is tempted to open the door right then if only to prevent Ed from sounding so broken.

“I can’t be a practice run for you,” Eddie says, “Please. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“A––what the fuck, Eddie.”

“It’s just, I know this is new to you and I’m, obviously, all about exploration and, um, finding yourself. Congratulations. Yay. But I can’t be an experiment. Not with you. I can’t.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Harrington says, voice a little louder than Wayne would prefer, given the circumstances. The trailer park isn’t exactly spacious. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you because I’m in love with you, how could you think—besides. This isn’t that new. I’ve kissed other guys.”

“You’ve what? Who? When?”

“Just. You know. Friends messing around. I didn’t know that made me bisexual until I talked about it with Robin but apparently, I’ve been kinda gay this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. You thought making out with your basketball buddies was…a standard heterosexual pastime?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“What other way is there to say it?”

“Okay,” Steve says, “I already had this conversation with Robin this morning. I don’t need to rehash it again. So I’m a little bit of an idiot. Memo received.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You just found out bisexuality was a thing this morning and now you’re here, what, asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. Ideally.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you.” Eddie sounds disgustingly fond.

“Eddie. I just said I love you.”

“You did,” Eddie says, high and cracked. “You did say that.”

“So if we could refocus.”

“Right.”

“I don’t expect you to say it back, but––”

“God, you really are an idiot. Of course I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then that’s––well, that’s probably his nephew getting his first kiss from Steve Fucking Harrington.

Wayne decides to give them to a count of thirty before interrupting, but just as he’s about to stomp his way up the stairs, Eddie says, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, no. It’s ok. Neither have I, really. But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you right now,” Steve says.

“I meant kissing. Hold on, does that mean you would be willing to fuck me later?”

Wayne winces. There are things he does not need to hear come out of his nephew’s mouth.

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, “You’ve never been kissed before? How is that possible?”

“Who would have kissed me?” Eddie hisses, “ I’m the town pariah. And until I met Robin I didn’t know any other queer people existed in Hawkins. Though apparently, I should have just joined the basketball team since you’re having orgies or whatever.”

“The first two were on the swim team,” Steve says.

“First two. How many were there?”

Steve ignores him. “And that wasn’t––you’re so hot, though. And your band has played in bigger cities. Haven’t you ever gone up to Indy to any of the bars there?”

“I need you to understand,” Eddie says, “that I am 90% bravado and 100% anxiety.”

“That’s not how percentages work.”

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Okay. Well, if this is your first kiss then I better make it good, huh?”

“Yes. That is absolutely the burden placed upon your capable shoulders should you choose to––oh.”

Eddie stops talking and doesn’t start again, though he does make a breathy little noise that Wayne takes as his cue.

He stomps up the stairs as loudly as possible, fumbling longer than necessary with the door handle, and pushes his way inside.

The boys are both shirtless, clearly in the process of shoving themselves away from each other. Eddie’s face is pink and his lips are kiss-swollen and Harrington’s back has a set of welted scratches on it that Wayne imagines are a perfect match for Eddie’s fingers.

“Well, shit,” Wayne says. He definitely should have opened the door sooner.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Eddie says.

“What the fuck else what it be?” Steve says, only sounding a little hysterical.

Except then the kid is pushing Eddie behind him and squaring up to Wayne with his jaw clenched and his head high, the discolored ring around his neck, still not yet healed, the scars down his belly, on display. Wayne is well-acquainted with the nuance of a man posturing versus a man who would gladly throw himself into a fight, even one he’s not certain he’d win. Steve Harrington is indisputably the latter.

Wayne can’t decide if he’s offended or endeared.

“Stand down, kid, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“That is…extremely apparent.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “It’s ok. He knows. Or. We’ve never really talked about it but.” He meets Wayne’s eyes. “He knows. It’s ok.”

Eddie pushes around him, stepping into Wayne’s open arms.

Steve watches distrustfully as Wayne wraps Eddie in a hug.

“You’re both safe here,” he says. Mostly to Steve, since he’s the one who needs to hear it. “And I’ll call up my boyfriend in Indy and have him vouch for me if you don’t believe me.”

Harrington’s expression is just as magnificent as Wayne hoped it would be.

“Your what?” Eddie shrieks.

Part 3 Here.

On AO3 Here.

Tempted to do one more from one of the kid's POVs when the kids find out. Thoughts?

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #myfic #mywriting #stranger things

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giantmushyfriend · 5 months

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Welcome back to the Ineffable lyric discussion (can I hear a wahoo)

In honor of the announcement of season 3 of our beloved Good Omens, I find it completely necessary for us to discuss one of the many songs on Aziraphale and Crowley's angelic playlist that made me scream my bloody head off. One of those songs is the one and only The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel. While I UNDERSTAND this song may have just been chosen to spell out SEASON THREE, I think it goes much deeper than that because of all of the parallels it draws to Aziraphale and Crowley. And ultimately, what I think is going to happen in terms of their relationship when they finally sort their shit out. So beware if you haven't watched season 2 of Good Omens because we're about to do a fucking DEEP DIVE into this.

First, the title of the Book of Love feels almost like a call to this looming threat to the Book of Life that was consistently used in series 2. The entire season, Crowley and Aziraphale have to work oh so carefully because with the Book of Life being confirmed, they know that either of them could get the other erased, and whether they want to admit it or not, losing the other is their biggest fear. We've seen this when Crowley believed Aziraphale to be dead in Series 1 when he couldn't feel Aziraphale's presence anymore since he got incorporated. When Aziraphale isn't there, Crowley is a mess. Likewise, we saw how both reacted during the ineffable divorce scene in series 2. Crowley is full-on begging Aziraphale to stay, and Aziraphale has finally admitted that he needs Crowley and full-on mouths for Crowley not to leave him. The Book of Life inherently, from how Neil set it up, feels threatening. The Book of Love, on the other hand, raises an entirely other reaction. Throughout the series, as corny as it sounds, love has been what grounds our protagonists. It is the love of Tadfeild and his friends that keeps Adam from kickstarting the end of the world; it's what keeps him from rejecting his father, the literal devil. It is the love of the earth, of humanity and all its strange creations, and for each other that keeps Aziraphale and Crowley attempting to prevent the end of the world when it could be so much easier to just accept the fate of it all. Love is the key theme that grounds our protagonists, that makes them tick. Love is safe; love is, at times, painful but overall kind. So when we see this title on their playlist, listed amongst heartwrenching tales of grieving a relationship, you could have had, and of loss, it brings a sense of salvation and safety. The Book of Love, unlike the Book of Life, is not a threat- it's a sanctuary for Aziraphale and Crowley.

Now, diving into the lyrics.

"The book of love is long and boring

No one can lift the damn thing

It's full of charts and facts, and figures, and instructions for dancing

But I

I love it when you read to me.

And you

You can read me anything"

The first couple of verses inherently feel like Aziraphale and Crowley's original view on this notion of love. As two supernatural entities who aren't bound by human emotion or logic, love may seem superficial and downright silly at times. The courting procedures that different societies have taken on throughout the centuries and the songs and dances that come along with it may all seem like a big waste. The book of love is a manifestation of love itself, and originally, it seems unappetizing to our protagonists. That is until they refind each other, and love goes from this thing that humans feel and jump through hoops for to this tidal wave of emotions. Love felt silly and unrealistic before, but with each other, they are willing and excited to explore it, even if it comes with things that feel inherently silly.

Also, these verses draw some cute parallels to headcanons and features of cannons. If you've been involved in the Good Omens fandom long enough, you've probably stumbled across the idea that Crowley asks Aziraphale to read to him for a multitude of different reasons. Some people say it's because his eyes aren't meant to read, one of the many punishments that came with him being cast down from grace, or maybe it's just because he finds Aziraphale's voice comforting. Additionally, the line about instructions for dancing is just so heartwarming when we look at the ball scene from this past season and Aziraphale's daydreams of a romance worthy of a Jane Austin novel.

"The book of love is long and boring

And written very long ago

It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes

Adn things we're all too young to know

but I

I love it when you give me things

and you

You ought to give me wedding rings"

I'm sure we've all heard this idea that you'll understand love when you get older, but even when you get older, it never seems to make sense. This idea that love is too old for any of us to truly understand, and that humbles us but in the best way possible. There is no point in trying to figure out what exactly love is because you could spend thousands of years feeling it and watching it happen all around you and still not know exactly what it is besides this all-encompassing feeling. And that is exactly the perspective of Aziraphale and Crowley. They have seen countless examples of love, true, unwavering love, and they have felt it for each other. And yet they themselves cannot begin to fathom what love, true unconditional love, is exactly. These two supernatural, ethereal/occult beings are humbled by the very concept of love like humans are- and that love is drawn from each other.

And then there is this notion of giving, which pairs so well with Crowley's primary love language, acts of service and gift giving. If the first chorus was Crowley talking about how he loves it when Aziraphale reads to him and takes care of him, then this is Aziraphale talking about how Crowley displays his love. And this final notion of asking for that final commitment, one of the key ways humans express their love for each other, is just amazing. Because in a way, Aziraphale moving to make this commitment, to fully be on their side in this way, is the resolution we have been wanting since the beginning. For Aziraphale to finally feel safe enough to let go and finally let himself settle to where he finally belongs, on his side with Crowley.

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peachypinkygloss · 10 months

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Hi! congrats on 2k followers ♡ The trope would be Idol!Namjoon x non Idol!reader, and actually just something smut & fluff is okay, like in a new relationship, please.

Thank u ^^

(I'm not a minor dw)

thank you for your support, lovely ): 🤍 means so much to me x love u, mwah 💋 xox

sweaty and steamy

Namjoon is very busy with work so you decide to visit him at his studio. You both end up sweaty and steamy.

pairing: idol/bf!namjoon x non-idol!reader

genre: established relationship, idol au, smut, fluff

warnings: namjoon's the best bf obvi, unprotected sex, studio sex 👀, praising, clit stimulation, a little under 1k.

a.n.: the first thing that came to my mind was studio sex... i mean, can you really blame me? 🥺

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

Namjoon is a very busy person. Not surprising considering the job he has, but sometimes he really dedicates his whole day to his music. It's not a bad thing, he's always productive and hardworking, all of that amplified because he's genuinely passionate about what he does.

You try not to be jealous. After all, he's not replacing you or ignoring you for his lyrics. You know that because he makes it a priority to call you at the end of each day, reminding you how grateful and happy he is to be your boyfriend.

Despite the relationship being new, Namjoon isn't afraid to show his emotions and that's what you like about him. His ability to express what he feels in such a meaningful way, with beautiful and poetic words, makes you fall in love with him over and over again.

Dating an idol is not easy, especially with one who has such a tight schedule, but you both make it work. For example, you like to visit him at his studio whenever you're free from work. You go support him and bring him some food.

You usually don't stay long either because you have to go back to your office or because he has to get back on what he's working at the moment. But sometimes, like right now, it happens you get a little bit distracted and stay longer than you're supposed to.

"Fuck, baby," Namjoon breathes out, throwing his head back against his desk chair. His hands are holding your hips, guiding you over his hard cock. His chest heaves fast, out of breath with you bouncing on his lap. "What a good girl, feels so fucking good."

You whine in response, also having an irregular breath. Your hands are on his naked shoulders, nails digging into his soft and tan skin, leaving behind crescent forms all over his flesh.

You're still not used to his size, being so big he stretches you out really well. It's a bit painful, a burning sensation making you moan, but the feeling is addicting, exhilarating.

"I love it," you admit, having Namjoon's cock nestled deep inside your pussy. You circle your hips, his tip brushing against your sweet spot and making you want more, always more.

He smiles, showing off his cute dimples and straight teeth. "Me too," he agrees. "Love these," he adds on while groping your tits in his big palms, gently pulling on your hardened nipples.

You mewl in his hands, doing a grind motion with your hips. He seems amazed to see you using him to pleasure yourself, finding it hot of you, being so turned on he feels his dick twitch inside of you.

He lets go of your breasts and watches them jiggle on your chest, licking his plump lips at the sight. He won't lie, this must become his new favourite position. The other positions are going to be tasteless compared to that one and all of this will be your fault because you can't just ride him like that and expect him to not become obsessed.

Your slick covers his pelvis and even the inner of his thighs, cock slipping in so smoothly by how wet you are. He knows his studio will smell like sex after that and he doubts anyone who enters won't notice. The odour is strong, but nothing repulsive in his opinion, on the contrary, he adores it.

He won't forget this moment that's for sure. He even believes nothing will surpass it, unless you decide to ride him with that much determination from now on.

It must be because of his work, of how badly you miss him every time he's not with you. He feels guilty, he doesn't like being so busy it stops him from seeing you, especially when you're a new couple. Honestly, sometimes he would drop everything and spend the entirety of his day with you, but he can't do that, which really sucks.

But if moments like these can make up for the wasted time, then he's satisfied.

He feels you clench around him and grip on his shoulders, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "God... baby, are you close?" Namjoon asks and you nod, moaning sweetly against his ear. "I got you," he announces, his voice husky and low, making you shiver.

One of his hands slides between your bodies and reaches for your pulsating clit, massaging it with his thumb. Your moans start getting louder and he grunts, feeling his balls tightening.

He plants his feet on the floor and thrusts up into you, your thighs shaking as your high approaches really fast. "I'm close too, fuck," he curses under his breath, circling your clit as he fucks you, a hand on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

"I'm cumming-!" You squeak, bucking your hips as your orgasm shoots through you. Your walls close around him tightly and he groans, your high bringing him to his own.

His thighs tense under you, big and strong, hips coming to a halt. "That's it, fuck," he moans and he finally comes undone into your pussy, painting your walls white with his cum. His cock twitches, spilling the last bit of cum he has.

He pats your hair, trying to catch his breath as you do the same, boobs squished against his chest. After some time, a comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you push yourself off him.

You face him and can't help but smile, biting down on your lip. You kiss him, a way to thank him for being with you.

You're happy and he is, too.

#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts drabble #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon drabble #namjoon x reader

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anadiasmount · 5 months

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teach me how to forget - jude bellingham x reader.

summary: this is mostly based on some lyrics from romeo santos songs. a not so girls trip but getting an unexpected call that leaves you thinking… i’ll leave it there *winks*

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: was in the mood to write and this was a request i had received so anon here you go :p i love toxic jude and i shall write what the girlies want :ppppo

This time of year was a time filled with love and warmth. The Christmas lights, the decorations, the hot cocoa, the feeling of giving back, the feeling of security. While those thoughts remained in your head, you were constantly reminded how single and lonely you were, especially when you decided to take a trip with your girlfriends and their partners.

They laughed, rejoiced, hugged, smiled, and had that look of love every time they stared at them, you felt left out and felt the urge to have what they have. It wasn't jealousy or anger, you felt more than happy for them, but now the idea of love began to make you mad. You had given everything to him, and you would do it again only under different circumstances.

It was your first serious relationship, well you thought, after the last one you had in high school. Serious as in you thought it would be the man you’d marry. The day every little girl wished for, though when growing up you hated it, why give so much commitment? But unexpectedly with his lies and broken promises, he changed your opinion about marriage. He changed your opinion about love.

You once looked at him with adoration in his eyes, hugged his bicep in public to send a message to others, kissed his cheek first and then his lips when he visited you or saw him after some time apart, you would giggle at night when talking about your futures together, the warm feeling inside never leaving your chest as he held you close to him. The way his soft brown eyes bore into yours when he left you.

But he was never yours, there wasn't ever a label or words said to claim him as yours.

You poured your heart to him, asking him, you needed to know the why, to get rid of the heavy and painful feeling in your heart, that felt like it was being stabbed each minute that passed by. Couldn't he see it? Why was it so hard for him to see how much you were willing and had already sacrificed to be with him? Was the love you gave him ever enough, all the kisses, cries, laughter?

For the first time in your life, you felt something real, a love like in the movies, yet this was actuality. No more good night calls or texts, cuddles, sharing a bathroom to get ready, or his big t-shirts, exchanging looks across the room which ended in the two of you going home, or kisses knowing that they were forbidden. In the end, whatever happened it happened for a reason.

As much as it hurt and brought misery, you were able to reconstruct yourself. You tried to convince yourself this would be a lesson for the future, a lesson that was learned the hard way as not only you lost your best friend but also your first love. Love can be cruel and painful, but in the end, it brings two souls together that are meant to be.

“Are you good babes? You look uncomfortable,” your friend joked, earning a small laugh from you. “I'm okay, just feeling very much like a third wheel,” you said honestly and shrugged your shoulders. This trip was planned at the last minute, a girls' trip to be said, but that changed when their partner tagged along, as it was conveniently their only time off from work.

While it angered you and almost made you not come, you realized they also needed this with them, you couldn't be that careless and selfish, though you would keep it in mind for next time. You also had wasted your money on the trip so there was no backing out, you needed a deserved break from your busy life in Spain.

“I promise tonight is our night. They guys are going to fish overnight by the bay so we can head to the club and drink till there’s no tomorrow,” she said cheerfully, giving you a side hug before standing up and walking over to the closet where your clothes hung. “How is it going with that guy Joel?” she questioned pulling out a couple of outfits for you.

You grimaced and shook your head, “I don't see him like that… he’s amazing don’t get me wrong, but he’s kinda boring? I don’t know, he is marrying for image and I want something way different. The dates were fun but in the end, he’s looking for one thing and I don’t want that, you know?” you explained while fidgeting with your rings that suddenly felt loose.

“But at the same time, when I'm with him, all I can feel is happiness. When he isn't being cocky or serious he treats me well, buys me flowers, and showers me with love. I feel like it feels so wrong, but at the same time, he is always there for me. He has seen me at my worst and hasn't once judged me for it.”

Your friend raised her brow and handed you a tight navy blue dress, “I understand, just have fun. You're single, sexy, an amazing woman, and independent. When the time is right, that person will appear,” she kissed your head and urged you to change. “I expect you to be the drunkest, don't think of him, he isn't worth your tears pretty.”

With that she walked off, leaving you standing still, was she referring to Joel or Jude? She was right, no feelings could change the new ones you felt.

It ended up being the complete opposite, your friends were all drunk and sang loudly to an old rock song, while you laughed and took small sips from your third cranberry vodka. You would join in at times, but their wobbly bodies made it hard as they would cling to you for support. The drunk selfies and videos you all took made them giggle as you all took a ride back home.

Jude saw it all. He was watching but from his home in Spain. He felt the cold and empty space next to him. He realized it was becoming too much for him, and he had to do something about it. But he always held back knowing it wasn't fair on your part. You deserved to be happy after all the pain he caused. But knowing he fully hasn't apologized was killing him. Or the fact the picture of you laughing with another man built a rubble of jealousy in his chest.

His thumbs always found their way to your contact, where he had your name next to a white heart, and the contact picture he took when you accompanied him to Germany. It all felt so familiar to him, reminding him of the good times you’d spent together, whether it was in his home, the beloved coffee shop, or the bookstore in downtown London you love dearly. Your smile, the personality he envied because you were perfect, so pure, your eyes that said the truth, and hands that built warmth when he held or felt them.

He missed you terribly, longing to hear your voice or see you even if it was for a second. He caved in and dialed you, coming face to face with your smile that shined bright as he heard the phone dial.

“If you need anything please let me know,” you said to your friend, who drunkenly fell asleep on her bed. You quickly showered and changed into your pajamas, putting your hair into a messy bun and laying down on the queen-sized bed. You scrolled through the TV and ate your salty crisps. You hadn't heard your phone ring, but when you saw two missed calls from his number you let out a huge gasp and sat upright.

Your hand dragged across your forehead, the familiar feeling of fear and uneasiness hitting you again in a huge wave. You bit your nails and dropped your phone taking a huge gulp of water as your throat became dry.

Hey. I called and you didn't answer. Can you call?

Give me a second, is everything okay?

No. I’d like to talk to you about something. Please just answer.

Why would he call? What was so important that made him call you twice and send you a message? You soon would find out as you heard your phone buzz again. Your heart raced again, banging loudly in your chest, everything in the room around you was bright and colourful, the cold sheets now hot, the crisps being hard to swallow, and the vibration of your phone reminding you he was waiting.

“H-h-hello?” you said shaky, hearing the relief on the other end. Jude on the other end felt nervous, his airpods put away as he brought his phone closer to his ear to hear your voice clearer, to feel you. “Y/n hi. Hi, uh, hi…” Jude chuckled anxiously, biting his lip, forgetting why he even called. “Did you need something?” you said in a low voice, whispering almost, as you muted the TV.

“I wanted to know something…”

“Which is?”

“I wanted to know if you remember our trip to Munich after the season ended last year,” he said slowly, voice deeper than what you were used to. How could you forget that trip? Were you kissed for the first time and promised to be at each other's side no matter what went on? A deal is a deal, a promise is a promise, but you weren't sure why he was recalling this exact moment. “What are you trying to get at?” you said instead of responding to his question.

“Answer the question… Do you remember the trip and what happened?” he asked again, leaving you confused and tugging your sheets up. “Yes. Of course, I remember,” you caved in, shutting your eyes, and attempting to calm your nerves. “And what did we promise, that we’d be there for each other, no?” he said.

“Things changed Jude. You changed things when you decided to leave and walk out. I can't promise you that, because what you did in the end was break them. You want me to be there for you? What about that time I begged for you to stay so we could work it out, and you did the opposite? To give you that promise I would have to trust your word again…” you deadpanned seriously, feeling the bubble of anger construct in your chest, your knuckles white as you control the feeling.

“You can't trust me?” Jude said softly and hurt. He knew he had hurt you, but for you to tell it and show it to his face was the least thing he expected. “No? How could I, when in the end you proved me wrong?” you said, but Jude had caught you when you didn't voice it, the no being a question instead of an answer. If he was there with you, your eyes would tell him the truth.

“Are you happy with him? Does he know how much I consider him my enemy for having what belonged to me, even if the one to blame is me? That I envy him for being able to make you smile even the slightest bit when it should be me?” Jude says, leaving you dumbfounded before realizing why he called. “I'm tired of your silly games. You couldn't maintain a serious thing with me, and you have the nerve to call me about-”

“I saw you laugh, I saw you cry. I lived next to you. The best and worst chapters of our novel. From our history. If you taught me to love, also teach me to forget what I feel because you are the woman I love and want. I learned to love beside you, you taught me to love, but you didn't teach me what was harmful, that love was harmful…” he said breathlessly, your chest rising up and down as he confessed his pure feelings.

“Jude-”

“I love you so much that I'm afraid to see you again. I only relive those old memories where you'd sit on my bed, a warm cup of coffee in your hand as you watched your soap operas. I still read your love letters, in the hope that one day you’ll come back to me. Who will heal this pain that you left inside me when you went away? Whoever invented love, should have given instructions to avoid suffering,” you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

The tears coming down your cheeks, and your hand covering your mouth to hide the loud sobs. He heard them, as a tear glided on his cheek wanting nothing more than to be there with you. But the same distance that separated the two of you, was the same reason he couldn't hold or have you anymore.

“Why tell me this now? Tell me you love me but showed otherwise. You say I taught you how to love, and hope one day I'll come back? Where was this when I needed to hear when I begged you, Jude? I probably looked stupid confessing my feelings while all this time you hid yours away. You weren't ready, I get that, but it's too late. I learned and I lost, and I can't go down that road with you again,” you croaked, sniffling and whipping the tears away.

“If you think I have replaced you, I haven't. As much as he makes me happy, you ruined that for me. I constantly picture you instead of him. I feel like a coward for leading on a good man, knowing that what I feel won't ever be enough or fair to him. I've tried Jude, i've tried to forget you without holding a grudge, but it's so hard when I love you this deeply,” you let out crying, yours and Jude’s heartbreaking every second that passed by.

Jude couldn't stand it, the silence was killing him, suddenly spoke out and poured his heart out to you, your gut wrenching hearing him at the way he felt over the months that passed by. Pain clawed your hearts, chests heaving as you could feel the soulmate connection even from afar. His voice brings you a sense of calmness and relief. He felt the familiar feeling of home when he heard you laugh, slowly coming out of your protective shelf.

“Without you, my life leads nowhere. But I took you for granted, and now I'm hanging from a rope. I know that you know I'll do whatever for your love, so tell me what I can do to call you mine again, baby?” Jude’s voice cracked, the pleading in his voice showing raw emotion.

“Come to me. I need you to prove your love to me and that it isn't for games.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham blurb #judebellingham #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham angst #football x you #football x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #football one shot #footballer #football fanfic

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

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Steve doesn’t talk about his nightmares. He assumes they all get them, it’s clearly just something you have to accept after going through the shit that they’ve gone through. He deals with it, like he deals with everything.

One night he wakes from a nightmare and there’s someone in his room, and he’s frozen and he’s terrified and he can’t reach his bat. He feels like his chest is about to explode until a second later when the figure moves in front of the window, hands held up in front of him and eyes wide with concern.

“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice scraping out of his body. “What – what are you doing here?”

Eddie cocks his head. “Many, many vodka shots, couldn’t drive home, crashed on your couch, etc. etc. You don’t remember?”

Steve does, now, the sound of Eddie’s voice bringing reality back, and he nods. “Yeah, uh, so many vodka shots. But…?” he trails off, gesturing to his bedroom.

“I heard you.” Eddie shrugs, then climbs onto the bed like it’s no big deal, shoving aside the messy blankets and sitting cross-legged next to Steve. For a moment he’s backlit by the light outside, his curls a frizzy halo. “Nightmares suck. You okay?”

Steve sucks in a long breath and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face with a shaking hand. “Uh, sure.” Eddie doesn’t look convinced. He heard him. “What, um, what did I say?”

Because sometimes the dreams are about things that actually happened, like him and his friends being attacked by monsters, and sometimes they’re about things that didn’t actually happen but almost did, like Eddie and Max dying. Sometimes they’re about brand-new horrors that he hasn’t even experienced yet. His mind is impressive that way.

“You just screamed a lot.” Eddie holds his gaze, and Steve feels sick to his stomach. Probably explains why he wakes up with his throat hurting so often. Benefits of an empty house.

Eddie shifts, all limbs, and lays down on his side, head propped on one hand. Steve’s plaid comforter is pushed down by his feet, and Eddie tucks his bare toes underneath it. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

Steve fights the urge to bury his face in his pillow. “I can’t.”

Eddie accepts this and rolls to his back, hands clasped over his chest briefly until they start waving around as he speaks. “I get nightmares all the time. Always have. Used to be they were about regular little kid stuff, then all the normal high school shit – showing up somewhere without your clothes on, whatever. Wayne was always real nice about it, didn’t make me feel embarrassed, just kind of sat with me or brought me water, you know.” Eddie glances over to Steve’s bedside table where there’s already a glass of water, and he meets Steve’s eyes.

“No, I’m good,” Steve says, with a little snort. “Do you, um, have different nightmares now?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Eddie says, turning back on his side to fully face Steve. “I keep thinking they’ll be great material for song lyrics, or campaigns, once they stop scaring the living daylights out of me. Worst ones are where I’m getting bitten over and over by those god damned demobats, man. Fucking sharp-ass teeth, ripping me apart. Hurts like hell, can’t believe how much it hurts. And that thing where you wake up and still feel it, right, like the pain is real for a minute even though it’s just a dream? Like a pain-echo? God, I hate that.”

“Me too,” Steve says, and he takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “It’s like that for me, too. Really scary.” He stretches, feeling some of the tension leave his body, and relaxes down into his pillow. He no longer feels like he’s on a rollercoaster without a safety bar. He’s not alone. “Thanks.”

Eddie studies him, then reaches down and tugs on the sheet, eventually getting part of it untangled, and pulls it up over Steve’s legs.

Steve knows what’s going to happen next, but he suddenly can’t let it. Without thinking too much about it, he reaches over and touches his hand to where Eddie’s lies between them on the bed. “Would you stay?”

His heart is beating hard in his chest for a reason having nothing at all to do with nightmares, when Eddie twines his fingers together with Steve’s and nods, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah.”

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Stranger Things ficlet #Steve x Eddie

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blingblong55 · 10 months

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It would've been sweet- Alejandro Vargas

In which you and him were in a relationship and he leaves you for his ex, Valeria Garza.

F!Reader, angst, cheating

A/N: voted 2/3 to be next...so here ya go :)

7 years and 3 months, thats how long it this love lasted. Three years ago, Alejandro had found out his ex, Valeria Garza was the one who was running the Las Almas cartel, she was El Sin Nombre. And every night, he'd come home, cursing her, telling you how much he hated that woman. And then he'd tell you how much he loved you. How happy he was you weren't like her.

You met him 9 years ago, told him you weren't ready for a relationship. And he waited, sat with you patiently as the day where he could have you would soon arrive. At nights, he'd go to your place, sneaking past your guard dog like he was some teenager in love. Throw rocks at your window and then stand there, snacks in hand, "let me in, please." the door would later unlock. The neighbours complained about him. He would serenade you once a month, brought Rudy along to hold a speaker whilst he sang along to the lyrics. You would laugh a little as you watched him over do his words.

The night you let him take you on a date was pure bliss. He knew you finally caved in, rest assure he would let this date last for years to come. He always asked you out on dates, but you always said no. "Porfavor, just once." You looked at him, "...fine," a small smile on you. Truth be told, you wanted him all along, but wanted to see how far he took it and it was proved he was willing to stay even if you didn't want him around. As that first date came to and end, it was clear he wanted to ask for another.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek as he walked you to your doorstep, "Good night, ale, thank you for tonight." you walked inside, the bouquet of flowers in hand, Pink tulips. "Good night, chula." he says and watches you close the door. He chuckles to himself, what a night that was. As he made way back to his car, he called Rudy, "She kissed my cheek! Thank you for the advice, hermano." A victorious night that was.

"Can I be your boyfriend? Can I have that privilege?" A smiled creeped up on you, your arms around him, "yes!.." It was the question you so long waited for since that first date.

7 years and 2 months later from that first month as an actual couple and now you stand there, empty handed as he walks with Valeria in hand.

1 year ago, that is when the beginning of his love affair and the beginning of the downfall of you two started. He saw Valeria, she was alone, was only there to confront her and arrest her. But then she called him by the old nickname. From then on, he would have more 'missions' to go on. Rudy didn't even known of such affair, which only made things more dangerous and fun for them both.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know I left dinner in the oven, just in case you come home late. Love you!" you left a voicemail just like every single night when he was gone. And like always he didn't respond. "I know you are probably busy, so I just wanted to wish you the best of luck! Be safe out there, love you!"

The thought of him cheating never came across your mind, you felt so secure in the relationship and you knew he wanted you from the very beginning, the way he kissed you over and over when he was home. It was as if he hadn't just left her bed and arms.

The day you walked in on him and her in your shared bedroom, all those clues hit you harder. "Ale?" your voice hinting at the pain this view brought, "r/n, ...mi amor..." his eyes widened. You were supposed to be on a trip with your friends, not to come back for another day. You walked out, ran to your car and drove away, the ring he was supposed to give you burning in the pocket of his trousers that were laid on the ground.

"Now that she is out of the picture," Valeria kissed his shoulder but he moved away. "It's best if you leave." His past actions now bringing in the regret he would sure live with for the rest of his days. The rest of the night you drove, only pulled over to let the pain set in. Alejandro didn't know where you were, sent los vaqueros to look for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. This only made him worry more.

After Valeria left what was once a home, he sat on the bed. Phone on hand as he listened to the voicemails you left while he indulged in his sins. "Hi! Just wanted you to know I miss you and that I hope you are safe wherever you are!" You were so oblivious to the thought of him cheating which only pained him more. He cried when he heard your voice, listened to all your voicemails.

"Heard it'll rain today, if need be I can drop off your uniform for this weather," why were you always so attentive to him? It's funny, he fell for you first but you fell harder, always blushing at the sight of him, like a little girl. All you did for him, small portions of your love for him and how did he pay you back? Cheating, breaking your heart, his promises, ruining the one thing in this world that he cared for the most, the only good thing left for him as a soldier.

One thing is for sure, he wouldn't have you. No more I love you's, cuddles during rainy season, out of nowhere kisses, those puppy eyes you made, how you mumbled in your sleep and especially no more you.

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

A/N: I dreamed this happened to me, I woke up crying...(i'm heavyly delulu)

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kmgkmg · 10 months

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CREAM SODA - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.6k…

pairing: wonwoo x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral)

synopsis: wonwoo comes home from practice needing some relief (not a lot of plot...but a lot of action iykwim...)

genre/s: smut, idol!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, bf!wonwoo, established relationship, domestic

warnings: nipple play, shower sex, petnames (literally just baby), begging, biting, marking, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both receiving)

rating: r (18+), minors dni

a/n: the lyrics were absolutely insane for exo's comeback but it also had me ~imagining~ things for wonwoo so...here it is! thank you so much to @rose-likesto-write for being the beta reader for this fic!

Wonwoo opened the door as carefully as he could, only to see you sleeping peacefully on the couch. It was already past one in the morning, he was drenched in sweat and his whole body ached from dancing for hours.

“Baby, I’m home,” he softly announces to you. Seeing you stir awake causes him to smile lightly and caress your hair.

“How was practice?” You yawn, getting up to hug him.

“It was decent, nothing unusual. Are you sure you want to hug me though, I’m pretty gross right now.” He turns around to reveal the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat.

You ignore his warning and hug him, “It’s okay, I need to shower before going to bed anyway.”

He hugs you back before separating the hug and raising an eyebrow, “It’s so late and you still haven’t showered…how lazy.”

The tone of his voice was all too familiar, matched with the lust in his eyes. It’s evident that he wanted to have his way with you. “Guess we need to get clean then.”

You’re fully awake now, excited of what the night has to bring you. What Wonwoo will do to you.

“Already thinking about what I’m going to do to you, Y/N?” He teases you, nibbling on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply.

You both become solely focused on each other, making out sloppily while taking off each other’s clothes. Bumping into things was a given, you could only imagine the mess your place was with clothing sprawled out everywhere.

You finally get to the bathroom and Wonwoo wastes no time. He turns on the shower, pushing you against the shower wall as he starts kissing you again. The way that he was kissing you, you knew you’d be covered in marks. It didn’t matter though, he loved that the whole world would be knowing you were taken. Your quickened breaths could be felt as he continued to cover you in hickeys.

He knew your weak spots just like the back of his hand. The amount of pressure to apply, the touches and reserved focus on certain parts of your body, he memorized it all. His lips linger on your nipples, biting them just enough to be both painful and full of pleasure. You were in the palm of his hands, shaking from his touch. Wonwoo spreads your thighs open, “Look how wet you are for me.”

You can’t even muster a reply, overcome with pleasure from his affection. It was always this way whenever you had sex with Wonwoo.

He stops abruptly, much to your dismay. He grabs the washcloth and lathers soap all over your body. Wonwoo also notices your eager eyes as you grab the washcloth from him and begin to rub soap over his body in return.

You paid special attention to the area behind his ears, knowing touching them only made him more aroused. He tosses the washcloth aside and kisses you again.

“I need you, now.” You beg, hand reaching for his dick.

“Yeah?” He hums, continuing to leave marks all over your body, “How bad do you need me?”

You kneel down, opening your mouth and stretching your tongue out to show him.

He finds you cute the way you wanted to pleasure him just as much as he pleased you.

You take his dick into your hands and look at it in admiration, never getting over his size. You used your tongue to play with the tip before fitting as much of him as you could in your mouth. He was hard and thick which only turned you on more. You loved the taste of him.

He placed his hand gently behind your head and held himself in place with the other hand on the shower wall. “You can handle more of me, can’t you?”

You attempt to say yes but it comes out muffled due to him being in your mouth. He slowly goes farther in, fucking your mouth.

“You look so hot with my cock in your mouth, Y/N.”

You continued giving him head until he pulled out and released onto your face.

Looking up at him with swollen lips, teary eyes, and his load on your face you ask, “How was it?”

“You did so fucking good, baby. Should I give you a reward?” His low voice asks, helping you up onto your feet. He cleaned your face up with water.

You nod fervently, “Yes please, Wonwoo.”

He turns the shower faucet off, deciding that the shower was too small for all that he wanted to do to you. Neither of you bother with grabbing a towel to dry off and he pushes you onto your shared bed.

He trails his fingers down your wet body slowly, sending chills. By the time he puts his fingers inside you, your body was already on fire. He goes at a steady rhythm, enjoying the overindulged expression on your face.

You reach for anything to hold on to, foolishly grabbing his hair. That doesn’t stop Wonwoo from fingering you, instead he uses his free hand to grab both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Did I say you could move freely, Y/N?” His question could barely be heard as you experienced pure ecstasy from his touch. “Do I have to ask again?”

You shake your head no, unable to form a proper sentence. Each time he rammed his fingers into you, the heat inside you built up more. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it.

Moaning his name was enough to get him to look up with a sly smirk, knowing your voice when you were close to your limits. Without a second to waste, he pulls his fingers out, depriving you from any possible orgasm.

“Wait until I give you permission.”

Your whole body trembles, trying your best to follow his order. Raggedly you whine, “Please, Wonwoo, I need your fingers in me again.”

“All pretty saying please…you’ve earned it.” He curls his fingers into you again and you instantly reach your climax. He rubs your thighs supportively, helping you work through the orgasm. Your mind went blank besides the image of Wonwoo being vivid.

“Y/N, do you deserve more?” He watches you catch your breath, having more planned for you.

You were still panting, but craved more. Your eyes fluttered open, “Yes, please.”

Wonwoo smirked and laid soft kisses on your torso before continuing. You sprawl out again, preparing for whatever he was about to do.

He skillfully used his tongue on your clit and squeezed your ass before sliding his tongue in you. You writhe under the new stimulation on your lower body. Clutching the sheets in your hands, your moans grow louder as you’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy.

Intoxicated with the taste of you, Wonwoo’s grip around your thighs tightens more. He takes a break from eating you out and looks up at you dazed, “I just know this tastes too good to be healthy.”

Wonwoo loved eating your pussy. Drowning in your juice, he ate you out like it was an animalistic instinct of his. Your bodies grinded together in harmonization. Each time you squirmed he would move his tongue in a different direction, making you arch your back again and again. He gave you no time to recover and before you knew it, another orgasm came. You clenched your thighs together out of reflex, but Wonwoo loved it. Loved the way you wrapped his head between your thighs so much it only made him more excited. He continued to eat you out, even as you came.

“Do you have enough strength to get on all fours?” Wonwoo’s question snaps you out of your bliss, knowing the main event is coming. You reposition yourself on the bed, having Wonwoo watch each move hungrily.

He puts his hands on your hips and looks down at you with soft eyes, “Y/N, do you want this cock in you?”

Your head is facing the headboard, a sight you were too used to, “Use me all you want.”

The sound of your gasp fills the bedroom as he fits his entire length into you. You roll your hips into his cock, legs still feeling weak and Wonwoo was to blame. You could feel yourself pulsing around his cock, so sensitive that anything he did would make you lose your mind.

“Good baby, so tight for me. Who owns your sweet pussy?”

“You, Wonwoo! I’m all yours and only yours,” you whimper as your eyes roll back.

Your words turn him on even more and he leans down to kiss you tenderly before thrusting faster.

“I’m about to…” Wonwoo groans, unable to contain himself.

“Fill me, fill me with all of you.” You plead, about to come for the nth time of the night.

Your words send Wonwoo over the edge and he does one final thrust, filling you with him. His eyes close in pure euphoria as you clench around his cock. He pulls out and appreciates the view in front of him.

Wonwoo loved seeing his Y/N being left a mess. Hair disheveled, covered in sweat, and panting. He falls onto bed next to you, exhausted.

“I love you,” Wonwoo sighed, caressing the side of your face.

“I love you more,” you exhaled, caressing his face as well.

Wrapping his arms around you, Wonwoo’s fingers tapping against your shoulder as you nestled your head into his chest. You both laid in bed, unable to sleep but needing to rest after your strenuous night. After about thirty minutes, his bulge could be felt against your ass as he held you.

“Not tired yet?” You tease him knowingly.

“Looks like we’ll need another shower,” he smugly replies.

Tonight was going to be a long night, not that either of you minded.

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eros-vigilante · 1 month

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The Many References in Teniwoha's Samsa

If you haven't read "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, the one thing you likely know about the short story is that in it a man turns into a bug. And this is enough to recognize the allusion of Samsa being named after the protagonist, Gregor Samsa, as well as the imagery of a dragging tail and onomatopoeia of "zuki". However, there are several deeper layers to Teniwoha's symbolism of themes and references to "The Metamorphosis" that add a great level of cohesion with Immiscible Discord's story. First, I would like to say that "The Metamorphosis" can be found as a free pdf online, and is a very good short story, so if you have the time and energy you should read it. This post will only be summarizing the themes that are referenced in Samsa and Immiscible Discord and will not include some of the other great commentaries Franz Kafka has. And of course, it will spoil the progression of the plot. Also, all quoted lyrics are from Amiaryllis' english cover, which is also very good and worth listening to. The lyrics will not be quoted in order.

The biggest and first theme the surrealist nature of the story expresses is that Gregor Samsa has been led to - and does - believe that his worth is tied to his ability to work. When he discovers he is a bug, he is only concerned because he is going to be late for his job if he cannot figure out how to get out of bed in his new body. He is determined to go to work because his entire family relies on his job to pay for their lives. ("i've grown monstrous down to the very core of my soul") This is comparable to Mafuyu's relationship to academics. Their mother relies on them to fulfill her dream of Mafuyu becoming a doctor, and so teaches them that nothing matters as much as this goal. Even when Mafuyu is stressed or physically ill, they push themselves to attend school, club activities, cram school, and study. Mafuyu's academic performance is their worth to their mother, as Samsa's income is his worth to his family. ("so could the bravest of souls face me and bear the toll?") When Samsa's family discovers he is an insect, they are horrified. Samsa finds this reasonable as he also considers his form monstrous. It is another theme of the story being from his perspective that he has good faith in his family to the point of seeming either naive or to have a low self-esteem. Actions that are most easily justified as disgust and hatred are rationalized by him, despite acknowledging at points that his family was not as affectionate to him after they began relying on him for money, as well as acts of physical violence such as his father shoving him back into his room.

("those painful fights, fearful nights") This is an interesting thing to compare to Mafuyu's experience of being gaslit by their mother. They believe very strongly- because they were told- that everything their mother is doing is for them, their future, and is in their best interests. This prevents them from questioning her actions and sacrificing their own desires in a self-destructive manner, which is also something Samsa does. For instance, he hides himself with a bedsheet so his sister does not have to see him when she brings him food, despite him finding this uncomfortable. ("craving any smile or attention just from you") Samsa's sister is the only one who still shows affection towards him, as she is the one who brings him food, but eventually she too festers fear towards and dehumanizes him. By the end of the story, the entire family blames their despair on him becoming an insect and no longer believe he is Gregor Samsa. The most direct reference to the story in the lyrics is when his father throws apples at him and has to be stopped from killing him by his wife, Gregor's mother. He crawls back into his room and he is locked inside. ("i beg, don’t throw those rotten apples at my chest before they lock up, lock up samsa") This could best reference when Kaito says that Mafuyu's mother is killing their feelings or true identity. Additionally, Mafuyu's mother places all blame for Mafuyu's recent behavior on Kanade's influence. And as the family plans for their life after his death, Mafuyu's mother tells Kanade that she plans to convince Mafuyu to go back to doing what she wants, no matter how extreme she must be about it. ("if it all goes to plan, then, we’ll soon rejoice") In the end, Gregor Samsa stops eating, and dies of starvation. All the while, he still thinks fondly of his family and believes they are in the right for their treatment of him. Gregor Samsa is used to form a strong representation of the extent to which Mafuyu has been gaslit. ("so please don't tell me that you'll be giving up on reality, samsa") The biggest difference (other than the bug transformation) is that Mafuyu has people who still dearly care about them, and not just for what they can provide. While all of Gregor Samsa's family abandons him, the other members of Nightcord do not abandon Mafuyu. Mafuyu has a reason to live, and people to tell them that they do not deserve to be locked away. ("i know that brilliant light will shine as the clock strikes 25")

He could already hardly feel the decayed apple in his back or the inflamed area around it, which was entirely covered in white dust. He thought back of his family with emotion and love. If it was possible, he felt that he must go away even more strongly than his sister. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the clock tower strike three in the morning. He watched as it slowly began to get light everywhere outside the window too. Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely, and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils (Franz Kafka).

#mafuyu asahina #immiscible discord #mafumom #samsa teniwoha #franz kafka #prosekai #n25

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formulapierre · 6 months

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I don't wanna leave just yet | Pierre Gasly

Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Y/N!reader

Prompt : Based off of 'I don't wanna leave just yet' by Thomas Day. Where Pierre suddenly ends your relationship; claiming it was your fault and you have to deal with the fallout.

Warnings: Cheating. I also wrote this in a couple hours so please excuse any grammatical errors. Thanks x

Word Count: 1358

Song: I don't wanna leave just yet - Thomas Day

'The world goes up in flames so fast'

“Y/N,” Pierre says from the kitchen.

“What’s going on P?” You ask, still sitting on the couch. Pierre didn’t sound like himself which concerned you, in the whole almost three years you had been together he had called you by your first name probably a handful of times. You got up and went into the kitchen, knowing that was going to be an important conversation

“I need to be honest with you Y/N; I need to be honest with myself-” He starts to say before you cut him off.

‘What are you saying?” You ask him, very confused by the situation.

“We haven’t been working for a while…and I’ve-” He says pausing, evidently trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.

“-you’ve found someone else…” You say, finishing his sentence for him, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes, clouding your vision.

“Yes,”

And all I want is all I had But it's too late to take it back

“We can fix this…I can fix this,” You say softly.

“No Y/N,” He says, almost pained.

“Please Pierre, there’s no way this is just it,” You argue, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“It is, I have found someone else. This isn’t just about me and you anymore…well it never was, was it?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“You’re still insecure about that?” You asks, lost for words that he was still hung up over it. “ I never slept with him, we both told you that. Stop making things up Pierre. There never was, is, or will be anything between Charles and I.” You argue; He had apparently seen proof of you and Charles leaving a party in Ibiza together.

“The photos Y/N!” He argues back.

“Are of some random girl, who also has blonde hair. Its not that fucking uncommon.” You reason for what felt like the millionth time. “So that's it? That's the reason you’re going to use? End three years of us because of some bullshit rumour?” You ask, the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

And I can't ask of you to give away the last of you But, selfishly, I'm hoping that you stay

“Please don’t go,” You beg as he silently packed his bags.

“I can’t stay here, can I?” He asks bitterly, sticking to his guns.

“You have to believe me, those rumours are just that, rumours,” You say. “You trust me Pierre, there is no reason I’d lie to you. Fuck me, why would Charles lie to you? He is your oldest friend for Christ's sake?!”

“You tell me Y/N? Is it because you’re still seeing each other behind my back?” He asks and you just laugh.

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” You ask incredulously

Let's lock all the doors and crawl in to bed Just another moment so I don't forget

You were sat, side by side in Pierre’s brand new Porsche; a gift He had bought himself when he signed his contract with Alpine. His hand resting on your thigh as you drove along the southern french coastline. The wind running through your hair as you sang the lyrics to your favourite songs.

As the song came to an end Pierre turned the volume down before looking over at you. Your large sunglasses and woven hat keeping the sun out of your face but bright red smile, smiling right back at him.

“Have I told you today how much I love you Cherie?” He asks sweetly, as soft blush covering your face.

“I don’t think you have,” You reply as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“Well we definitely need to change that,” He says, causing you to laugh softly. “I love you Y/N so much it hurts; it feels like I was made to love you. We are perfect for each other and nothing will ever come between us, because I love you,” He says honestly and jokingly; you both had found the notion of true love to be made up, but people around you had always commented on the fact you were perfect for eachother.

“Yeah right,” You reply teasingly.

“Cherie, it pains me that there may even be a little part of you that doesnt think what I said was true,” He says with a laugh as He comes to park at your next stop. A tiny village surrounded by vineyards, known for their white wine

'Cause it's gonna hurt, and I'm scared to death We have to go but I don't wanna leave just yet

How couldn’t he believe you?

You had even gotten Charles to speak to him about it; Pierre barely listened to him as He spoke. Neither of you making much difference. That had been a few months ago, you had thought you had moved past it considering you hadn’t actually seen charles since the supposed event. But apparently not.

How were you going to be ok without him? He had been your lifeline, your rock for nearly three years. And how could he throw that all away over rumour?

Of all people to not be affected by rumour, you would have thought it was him. His job and the places he worked were full of speculation, gossip and rumour. There were constant rumours about the latest supermodel He had bedded, but you didn’t let that get to you. Why was the other way around any different?

You were lost.

The truth is written on the walls But we'll lay here and watch them fall

You lay in bed, staring at the framed photos on the walls.

You and Pierre in Rouen,

You and Pierre at the beach in Monaco with Charles and Charlotte,

Christmas last year that you spent with your family,

The selfie you took on your anniversary date,

The road trip you took around the UK when you first got together, wanting to show him all your favourite places.

The photo Esteban had taken of the two of you kissing in the back of Pierre’s garage only a few months ago.

You thought about taking them down so you didn’t have to look at them, not wanting to face what was reality for so long. You cried, remembering each memory associated with each photo, how much it hurt that he wasn’t here, and wasn’t going to walk through the bedroom door and scoop you up into his arms; telling you everything was going to be ok.

And please forgive me for holding on I'm tryna take it in before you're gone

He had forgotten it when he had packed all his stuff up. A linen shirt. Something so basic, but so important at the same time. That was his signature outfit. The one he wore on your yearly Lake Como trip, or when you go to France to see his family, or when he was just lounging around the apartment. You were surprised when He messaged, you knew for a fact He had a handful of other shirts just like it.

But this would be it; you held it close to you. Inhaling the, now, feint smell of his cologne for what would be the last time before you heard your doorbell ring. You folded the shirt, setting it down before answering the door.

“Hey Pierre,” You said opening it to reveal him standing on the other side.

“Just let me have my shirt Y/N, I don’t want this to be any longer than it has to be,” He says and you have to stifle your emotions, just nodding and grabbing the shirt from the table.

“Here,” You say, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” He says quietly before turning away and heading down the hallway. You watched as he walked away from you for the last time.

'Cause it's gonna hurt, and I'm scared to death We have to go but I don't wanna leave just yet

His clothes were gone,

His toothbrush was gone,

The photos were gone,

His smell was gone,

He was gone.

And you? You were lost.

A/N : I might do a few more of these purely text based fics as they are much quicker to write than my Instagram fics and shorter; though I will continue to do them I just want to be posting more regularly for you all. -E x

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milgram-tournament · 4 months

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 2 BRING IT ON vs. THIS IS HOW TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for BRING IT ON:

"Reasons why Bring it On should win:

- Just by starting the song, the instrumentals are BANGER. Like his more rock style is very cool, even better than After Pain’s more mellow style - Arthur’s voice (Futa’s va) had bills due because have you HEARD his singing?? His raspier voice fits Futa so well - It feels so explosive and like a call to action in a sense, which very much matches Futa’s mentality during trial 1. He also wasn’t playing victim like a CERTAIN girl… (jk, love you mu!) - SAA HAJIMEYOU USOTSUKI KARIDA - UNDEAD HEROOOI YES SLAY KING HIS HIGH NOTE HERE IS HEAVENLY - His scream at the end. Oh my god. HE LITERALLY ATE THIS NOTE. AFTER PAIN COULD NEVER. BRING IT ON FTW 🔥🔥🔥" - His range goes WAAAAAY higher than Mu. She would end up like PHG if she even tried hitting any of his high notes in the last chorus /j

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- The vocals are amazing, those growls are so well done - You’re able to get Fuuta’s crime and motive pretty succinctly, only based on the visuals - But it still leaves a lot up to interpretation, like how he only attacked once in the final fight scene. It lead to some cool theories. - On that note, the game aspects are so cool!! Especially when paired with him going after people online, just good synergy with awesome style! - Fuuta’s scared face after he realizes what he did. The great contrast of other foes simply being knocked out then being met with blood splatter. - The tempo of the song changing with his mood is a really good touch as well. Make the song more chaotic which highlights his character traits well

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"propaganda for bring it on: the music FUCKS it genuinely slaps so hard listening to it. song style is incredible its perfect for fuutas personality and gamer vibes. also the way the mv frames everything as a game? the only time real blood and real gore happens being when killcheroy dies? the little details of all the usernames, the different monster designs, the generally distorted feel of everything being too lighthearted?

okay i could go on about the mv for hours but lets not. aside from that: the FEEL of the song!!! the vocals!!!! it really feels like fuuta putting his whole heart into it, into this point of view that both blows problems out of proportion and minimises them, and DEEPLY fucking up. my darling little hypocrite gamer boy twitter user. he makes his witch hunt genuinely sound like something that could sweep people up into it. also the instruments goddddd. the guitar and synth the bass and the drums the DRUMS. im relistening to it to write this propaganda and it keeps making me headbang when i should be writing. if you arent headbanging to bring it on you are LYING.

the way the lyrics are written is wonderful too!!!! they feel so brash and brave and powerful and like. cocky about it. and it fits PERFECTLY. its gets someone swept up into it and it FUCKS. vote bring it on im serious. lets go!! a victory march!! dan da dan!!"

Propaganda for TIHTBILWY:

okay so like the thing im most in love with: the VOCALS!!!! this song has an absolutely AMAZING singer and AMAZING vocals!!!! the way the conversational talk-singing lines still feel so musical!!!! the cute cute cuteeeee mahiru voice!!!! it brings you so much energy!!!! its a song sung with so much love!!!! mahirus va brings such an amazing feel to the song with such amazing talk-singing!!!! its very skillfully done and it happens in i love you too!! mahiru songs r the QUEENS of musical talk singing

the silly phone call bit. kurururu~!

the little vocal flourish and the way her voice raises up like an excited exclamation in the final prechorus!! daijoubu nante kirai DA!

its such a fast song but everything flows so well!!!! it makes it feel so bright and cheery and peppy!!

the instrumental is so underrated just LISTEN to that catchy bass line thats so pretty in the verses!!!! no for real even if u dont vote this is how to be in love with you go listen to the bass line in the verses it works to move both the song and the listener forward at mahirus sweeping breakneck pace. and the cute keyboard sounding and synth instruments!!!! its SUCH a danceable song!!!! i cant listen to it without bopping along in my seat

the way the ominous bits are subtly hidden? it all sounds so cute but there are just these Things that she sings that are really kind of concerning and unhealthy when she sings them!! and the veiled desperation to be in her relationship- listening to that and the cheery tone and breakneck, quick song pace, it really does represent mahiru SO well. she throws in all these little bits that just go noooo teehee the relationships just fine!! when it REALLY isnt

i would listen to mahiru talk for hours

the MV!!!!!! HER FASHION SENSE THE MAGAZINE STYLE!!!! the magazine style especially works so well with her character!!!! its so cute and stunning and just looking at it you have a blast. also her birdcage!!!! her birdcage and the bright orange and the pink bars!!!! the way everything desaturates and becomes more sickly looking when she wakes up at the end!!!! its such a happy carefully curated and designed dream and then it drains away!!!! also god all her outfits are stunning. mahiru call me

the way she sings "overheat de~!" cutest thing in the WORLD.

the little faces she makes!!!! godddd shes so expressive

actually the whole songs so expressive!!!! shes putting her all into it!!!! her words have so much expression in them!!!! once more praising mahirus va the way her voice can soften and become bright or subtly desperate so quickly is MASTERFUL control of expression when singing and its so underrated. join me in being insane over miho okasaki delivers her lines. shes such a perfect mahiru.

funniest es cover. hands down. funniest es cover.

this is how to be in love with you is FREE serotonin!!!! free energy right there!!!! this is how to be in love with you sweep!!!!!

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-The song is so cheerful!! I always feel like dancing and singing when this one comes up in my playlists!! Absolute banger, mood definer, kicking sadness in the shin with those high-heels and then hitting its face with a cute purse -THE HIGH-HEELS STEPPING TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC IN THAT ONE SCENE (0:50). SIMPLY ICONIC. NO ONE DID IT LIKE HER. -👠💅👝👗 -She is slaying. Look at her outfits. She put so much effort there. She gave it her all. Absolutely serving. -SUKITTE KIMOCHI WAKATTA TSUMORI? NARA KONO MAMA FUTARI O-VA-HI-TO- DE -The storyline of the mv MAKES SENSE and you can form a COHESIVE TIMELINE OF EVENTS (unlike other unspecified contestants' mvs you know 🙄) -look at herr 🥺 she beby 🥺 all she did was love too much 🥺 we all love mappi don't we 🥺 she deserved more let her win this pleease 🥺 -No medical malpractice happened in the making of this mv 👍

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I care so much about This is How To Be In Love With You- it's visuals are brilliant in the ways it conveys its themes and narrative. I'm never normal Ever about the "Love as marketing" symbolism that is brought in by the use of magazines. It's a lovely upbeat song but the Horrors are Always Lurking under it, the breakup Ritual line is my Favorite Line cause its so horrifying but its said so casually and its so good oh its so good-

#milgram #milgramtournament #fuuta kajiyama #kajiyama fuuta #mahiru shiina #shiina mahiru

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alicerosejensen · 8 months

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Where It All Began

Warning: a little angst, fear for the loss of a partner, caring, open final, fem/reader.

Synopsis: He will always be afraid of losing you and will not forgive himself if something happens to you.

A/N: I don't know what it is. It's just necessary to throw out these emotions somewhere. I like to write such lyrics to sad melodies that make me long for someone who's gone… (I am the queen of drama)

Leon never wanted to let anyone get too close to him. Long-term scars respond with pain and fear that at any moment a zombie will appear behind his back, clutching his shoulder with its jaws, tearing off the flesh, so he was always calmer alone. Perhaps of course not always, before Raccoon City he was less traumatized, even loved the girl with whom he naively thought to spend his life until she left him before leaving, but now Leon thinks that it was for the best. That rookie cop has been gone for a long time. He remained buried under the ashes of the destroyed city.

In his eyes there remains a lost light and not dead nobility. The desire to save every innocent life that is being taken away by corrupt corporations. There are few like Leon, but… he never fully appreciated his life. It wasn't even modesty, he just considers himself an instrument of the government. An ordinary pawn and never denies it.

Love is disgusting and causes pain when the object of your adoration is not around. Leon ignored that dull ache in his chest just like he ignored his feelings for you. He couldn't even figure out exactly when it started with him, you were one of those he saved and who didn't haunt him in nightmares, but you appeared in others and brought fleeting comfort, making him want to feel warmth and affection, You made him be so needy, but when he flirted with you, you only responded to a minor flirtation with your friendship.

Perfect love comes softly

Do you know all these poets beautifully praising a deep light feeling that also becomes a sweet poison that drives you crazy? Beautiful words will come to mind, the heart will want to do things for the sake of a loved one and Leon really wants to hold you in his hands and his heart. At the same time, he is afraid of being tied down, but this feeling grows in him like a branching tree that he gently cherishes looking at you, helping to do some little things.

No matter how much his soul broke into pieces after all the encounters with bioweapons, it was you who arranged it to blossom with renewed vigor with your beautiful inner light.

It was as if your hand was always outstretched for you to take him home, and he could heal all wounds and dispel longing by pressing his head against your rhythmically beating heart.

But Leon is not going to say "I love you." He is so afraid of these words, as if after their utterance there will be another outbreak that will take the lives of thousands of innocent people. He doesn't want to bring you to tears, he doesn't want you to worry about him, and he knows that he has nothing to offer you, so why then does this feeling that you evoke in him so much choke him, causing tears in his eyes when he sees that someone else showing romantic interest in you?

To his angel, who each time leads him out of the darkness to the warm light. For which he is still fighting.

Actually, this guy is cute, he doesn't hurt you, but Leon can't be happy. Only time after time he asks himself why, out of many saved, it is you, an ordinary civilian, who arouse such a feeling in him?

The storm clouds melt with you when you walk with him along the snowy sidewalks with a cup of hot coffee in your hands, discussing some everyday things, and Leon again catches every word, suppressing the desire to take his beloved by the hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. He looks into those lovely tired eyes that shine for him like a monument to the hope of something else worth fighting for. Then these tales of eternal pure love no longer seem so cloying and fictional.

And if something happens to you again, God forbid, he is ready to dig one grave for two.

Some new kind of love and Leon doesn't care at all that your boyfriend looks so enviously at how you dance with him, laughing joyfully, hugging him as a friend. Let someone dare to touch you - he can be rude not only to the bastards of the zombie creator.

Once you told him that despite the monsters living in the world, this world is not bad at all.

"Only you will never be mine in this world,"

Leon did not say it out loud, but clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze. From this thought, the world really became more and more terrible.

You were his angel even though he has big problems with religion.

Paradise could be found in your arms. You were more reliable than any honest words when you stroked his back hugging him in a difficult hour while he was not ashamed of his helplessness squeezed you in his vice. You've never manipulated him. They broke him, beat him, and you healed him. It was possible to be silent with you without feeling awkward. It is when Leon finally breaks down that he finally comes to you because his love poisons him. It hurts even when it becomes difficult for you to breathe and your lungs can't inhale enough oxygen because of this steel grip.

"I've lost so many people, but I can't lose you…" his head was buried in your neck and you could feel warm lips on your skin.

He could have hidden you from everyone, but he didn't let his selfishness get the better of his mind. That's why Leon doesn't want to leave, grabbing your face, staring intently into your eyes, leaning against your forehead. He wants to make tender love to you, forcing you to grab his shoulders, shouting a long "Leon" so that the sheets crumple to hell and your cheeks turn red from the heat while he takes possession of you. he wants more than anything to cover every inch of your body with kisses, grab your hands, interlacing your fingers and tell the stupid guy to get off you.

Leon loves to kiss this nose, although he does it for the first time being afraid of what is happening in it. The world will stop being so disgusting again because there is a house in which there is love….

And yet Leon is afraid. He allows himself an acceptable amount of destroying the fragile edge of friendship by laying you under him, whispering various pleasant epithets promising how you will feel good with him but then… You know yourself that this person is afraid of attachment and in the morning your heart will break into a million pieces when he leaves. Therefore, with tears on your cheeks, your palms are on his chest when you push him away from you, looking away.

"I'm sorry," Leon whispers, holding his hands on your waist when he realizes that this is the end.

You didn't accept his love and it's his fault that salty tears flow down your sweet cheeks that he loved so much. His wounded heart begins to bleed and if you understood this, you would never turn away from him. It wasn't worth destroying this fragile friendship because now that he realized that you don't have feelings for him, everything collapsed like a house of cards. Despite the fact that his soul screams from injustice, Leon does not dare to accuse you, so he calmly lets go of his love, knowing that he will look for a ghostly trace in the beloved place where you most often met.

Every day.

His beautiful love that still burns in his chest. He wanted so much to know the desired happiness with you, but you can't force someone to love, so he leaves, closing the door behind him and not understanding the reason for your tears, because you, just like him, were afraid that your heart would break…

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x you #leon x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 1 month

Note

ok I need you to discuss this John is My Son thing because like I also feel that Sometimes I Felt Like His Priest is also really underdischssed!

okay here we go!!!

The quote you're referring to is from the Foreword of The Lyrics. I grabbed some more of it because it's all quite interesting to me.

This was about the same time that I met John Lennon, and it’s pretty clear now that we were a huge influence on each other. Readers might detect duelling emotions in my recollections of John; that’s because my relationship with him was very mixed. Sometimes it was filled with great love and admiration, but other times not, especially around the time The Beatles were breaking up. In the beginning, though, the relationship was a young Liverpool guy looking up to another guy a year and a half older. It was hard not to admire John’s wit and wisdom. But as I came to see him as a person and a human being, there were, of course, arguments, though never anything violent. There’s even a movie out there in which John’s character punches my character, but the truth is that he never punched me. As with many friendships, there were disputes and there were arguments, but not many. Sometimes, though, I certainly thought John was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great, and you’ve already done enough work to demonstrate that.’ I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’

It's like… there's so much going on here, you know? John is almost paradoxical to Paul: the source of one of the biggest hurts of his life and also one of his great bringers of joy; he's forever petrified as a teenager in Paul's mind and also on some level remains his fairground hero whose shadow Paul cannot escape; a traitor and yet don't you dare depict him being violent towards me; wise and simultaneously stupid.

At its root, I think many of these contradictions exist because Paul is on some level aware that a lot of the pain John dealt him was at least in part due to something John could not help (i.e. mental illness). He can't bring himself to blame John entirely, in a similar way a lot of us fans wrestle with John's behaviour that we know came from a place of great anguish. This has contributed to Paul infantilizing the memory of John; he has an instinct to look after John, and it's exacerbated by the fact that he has aged whilst his conception of John has not (you can see this in the way Paul constantly circles back to the early days of their friendship), which is in great contrast to Paul's memory of, say, Brian:

"I find that one of the interesting aspects of ageing: Brian Epstein never got beyond thirty-two, but I think of him as an older guy even though I’m already twenty years older than he ever got to be." – Many Years From Now.

But there's another element to this… A lot of people on here speculate about why Paul "can't get over John". My answer:

1) John's death was uniquely traumatic to John's loved ones in a way we tend to gloss over.

2) We are not letting Paul get over it! Paul has been asked about John in interview after interview for four decades and his image directly suffered due to the lionization of John post-1980 as well as the way he (Paul) was judged for not grieving correctly. Perhaps he's started bringing John up a lot in interviews in part because he feels he has to, lest he be deemed callous and cold again. (and perhaps he is seeking to nip the Lennon Question in the bud before the questions become, ahem, horribly insensitive) That's not to say Paul isn't weird about John – I think he is! But I think the way he's been made to both carry John's legacy and accept criticism used to build John up and bury his own unresolved anger at John and grieve over a senseless murder publicly and defend John now that his image is being torn down… it accounts for a huge chunk of this weirdness, IMO. Again, I want to reiterate: I think these are generally Paul's genuine feelings and thoughts (and I certainly don't want to imply that all of this only started post-1980... but perhaps there's a reason Paul seemed more measured throughout the '70s) but I think it's naive to act like society didn't help shape the way Paul talks about John and sees him. When you live as publicly as he does and your childhood friendship is one of the most talked about relationships in music history, you are bound to be affected by the general reception.

I also think Paul is often doing reputation damage control. It is very important to him that he and John are remembered first and foremost as friends (hence the offense he takes in the depiction of John punching him in Nowhere Boy) and it seems like, since at least Goldman, he's been trying to emphasize John's softer, more lovable traits. I think this, mixed with the infantilization mentioned above, is where you get stuff like the clip of Paul calling John a little baby or a lovely broth of a boy.

It's all so damn complicated you know? And so fascinating.

#ask #anon #my analysis #jp #meta

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whirlwindimagines · 1 year

Text

‘When you’re lost in the universe, don't lose faith’

a/n: Not requested! This is a sequal to 'In the moment where lost and found’, I just want to be by your side.’ Nobody asked for this but I wanted it lol i had written both pretty much back to back, only this took some time. its almost 2000 words! Title is a lyric from Hand of God by Jon Bellion

Edit: I AM SO DUMB? Why didn’t I finish the last paragraph?

You don't know why you are surprised when you wake up to an empty room, at first a deep sadness settles into you, and then anger. Ripping the blankets off and ignoring the pain that flares up in your shoulder you rush out of the room and down a flight of stairs.

Slamming your hands on the hotel front desk you startle the man behind said desk. “Blonde guy with a red coat, where is he.” Your tone leaves no room for argument, as the man looks at you shocked. The moment stretches out too long, and you lean forward getting into the guy's face. “Well?” you snap at him, which makes him move.

“Erm... I guess this is for you then.” The hotel clerk hands you a sheet of paper, which you yank out of his hands, turning around to read the contents.

‘Y/n… I'm sorry. I can't keep my promise to you, it's better this way to part now before you get seriously hurt because of me. Bad things happen around me, and I care about you too much to let me be your downfall. You deserve better, we’ll see each other again one day! But for now, it's goodbye, I’m sorry that I'm too much of a coward to tell you all this in person, but you know I've always been better at running away.’

You began to shake either out of anger or something else, how dare he make this decision for you! You wanted to travel with him, the risk meant nothing to you. Stuffing the note in your coat pocket, you turned back to the clerk who flinched at the deadly look in your eyes. “How long ago did he leave this?”

“The sun just began to rise, so not even an hour ago!” The clerk said, his eyes darting towards the front door. You called out a ‘thanks’ while you rushed out of the hotel, how far could get in an hour? Pretty far, you tracked the whole damn desert if you had to just so that you could wring his pretty neck. If he was sorry for leaving you, he’d be really sorry once you found him.

Thus began the search, you asked any person you came across if they had seen even a hint of Vash’s red coat. You had a feeling Vash wouldn't leave town, no he would make sure you were okay and had some footing and a plan. Because even if he was a coward, he wouldn't leave you in danger.

You just kept asking people, some pointed you in the right direction and others were wild Thomas chases. Morning turned to afternoon and then to dusk. Frustrated with yourself and Vash you sat down on a bench head in your hands. He would be gone by morning; you knew it deep down. Leaning back to look at the sky, you could feel yourself began to cry. Wiping your eyes harshly you stood. Damn him! Shoving your hands in your pockets, you fisted the material of the note he left you bringing it out. Maybe there would be a clue.

You flipped it over, eyes widening it was a receipt for a Sand steamer. It was a stretch, but you ran to the station hoping that he would be there. Why haven't you looked at that before, shaking your head, it didn't matter you need to move before you ran out of time.

Making it to the station you looked around frantically.

You’ve finally spotted the telltale sign of a red coat, without thinking you rush forward grabbing a fistful of said coat with your hands and yanking back hard. You hear Vash yell out startled, as he hits the sand ass first. He looks up at you as if he’s seen a ghost, it's much more like he's looking at one very pissed-off demon.

You stare down at him, hands shaking at your side. He has the gull to look shameful, he then looks away unable to hold your glare. Vash sits up placing his arms over his knees and his head hanging. He looks small, so unlike the man you're used to. It pains you, but you're going to have to hurt him to get him to understand.

“You left.”

“I know.”

Silence, you were tired of silence of unsaid words, you’ve had enough. “I got hurt, and it was your fault. Is that what you want to hear? That your right, I’ll probably continue getting hurt because of you. Because someone always going to be chasing you, and I'm making myself a target?” Your tone was harsh, and he flinched not picking his head up.

“But you know what you hurt me.” Your voice broke, and it caused him to look up to meet your gaze. “You're hurting me right now because you're shutting me out. You think leaving is going to protect me” He doesn’t say anything to you, he just holds your gaze and you can see the tears begin to pool in his eyes.

“Well, it's not!” you snap, God you’d just wish he’d say something, yell at you get mad something! “I'm going to get hurt again, and you're going to get hurt as well. And you know what? I’m not leaving!” You took a step closer towering over him, maybe you were being too cruel. You needed him to understand, it was you and him till the end of the line no matter what happened between then and now.

You watched as he clenches his fist, he looks at you sharply pushing his glasses up to rest on top of his head, you watch his tears fall and you ignore the pang in your chest. “I’m scared!” Vash finally snaps at you; his tone is cold but you're just glad he's talking. “I'm scared, that I won't be enough and that I’ll lose you like I've lost everyone else!” he ends the statement with a sob into his hands, “I'm never enough, and I can't let you suffer because of it.”

Your gaze softens and you drop to your knees in front of Vash, you gently grab his wrists to pull them away from his face. You hold his tearful gaze, with a tearful one of your own. “I’m scared too.” You whisper, dropping his wrists and leaning forward to pull him into a hug your arms resting around his neck and cradling his head in your chest. “But I would rather be scared together than apart.” His arms wrap around you suddenly he pulls you impossibly close and sobs. You hold him as tightly as you can, hoping to convey everything to him.

“You’re such a crybaby,” you say it as if tears aren’t steaming down your own face, Vash laughs it’s small and way too watery but it’s something. “You’re crying too.” You let out a huff, you continue to hold him as you both cry.

“Ya know maybe I want to protect you too? Ever think about that?” You muttered as you rest your cheek on top of his head, the silence stretched out, you were just glad to have him in your arms. You shivered as the night air settled over you, Vash squeezed you before dropping his arms and leaning back to look up at you.

“Why?” His voice was small, you smiled cupping his face in your hands. “Because that’s what you do for the people you love right?” Your words settled over the two of you, a risk, a chance, a choice. You held his face lightly letting him have a chance to pull away, his next actions would determine everything.

His blue eyes became impossibly wide, and they filled with more tears. You knew you were fully crying at this point as well, but you needed to give Vash a chance to figure things out for himself. So, you waited, and your hands begin to shake as the silence continued.

It happened in a flash, but Vash stood pulling you up along with him, both on your feet he grabbed your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, he looked into your eyes and gave you such a bright smile you knew everything would be okay. “You love me?” he asked it quietly, his voice filled with hope.

You step forwards, to be closer to him. “Yes.” His hands shook, he begins to pull back “It's not safe.” Your own grip on his hands tightened, to keep him in place. “Vash look at me, as long as we’re together nothing else matters. We’ll figure it out. Okay? But God Vash, I love you and I don't want to be apart from you for even a second.”

Your confession was like a trigger for him, Vash pulled you towards him you let out a light shriek as he wrapped his arms around you and begin to twirl with you. “You love me!” Not a question this time, but a loudly proclaimed statement, he continued to spin you until he lost his footing and the both of you toppled to the ground. He managed to break your fall as you landed on his chest.

“You love me...” you laughed, picking your head up to meet his gaze, “Yes I think we’ve established this.”

“I... I love you too.” Vash whispered it so softly as if he was still afraid to admit it, it was real now. You both knew there would consequences, but at the moment the thought was far away. He was still scared and you were as well. Your future with Vash was unknown and dangerous, this was a risk for both of you a chance to get hurt, but it was your choice to love him and you would with everything you had.

You sat up looking down at him, as he only stared at you eyes wide and filled with warmth. You smiled leaning down and you placed a gentle kiss on his beauty mark below his eye. You leaned back, but before you could get too far Vash reached out and placed his hand behind your head to bring you back down to him.

Your lips were only inches apart as he stared at you, a question in his glance and a shyness to his movements. “I want to kiss you.”

“The feelings mutual.” You replied closing the distance, the angle was awkward. And you were sure Vash could not be comfortable on the ground, but all the same, it was perfect.

You pulled back, but not before placing another soft kiss upon his lips, you could do this forever and you would never tire of the feeling of his lips on yours. You helped Vash sit up, “can you say it again?” He couldn’t hold your gaze when he asked. His voice was so small, right then and there you decided you were going to spend every day showing Vash how much you love him.

Smiling gently, and leaning in to rest your forehead to Vash’s you spoke quietly into the night

“I love you, Vash.” You laughed as you watched his face heat up with an obvious blush. You didn't know what tomorrow would hold for you too, it could be peaceful it could be dangerous but you would face it together. He helped you stand; you didn't let him get too far away as you gripped his hand. Leaning in for another kiss, you knew that at this moment it would always be worth it to love Vash and him you.

#vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede imagine #vash x reader #vash imagines #vash imgaine #vash the stampede x reader #vash x you

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