#i also might soften him up a lil bc i know in my soul that eddie munson would not have abs but perhaps Kas would? idk lmk ur thoughts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshusten · 5 months

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honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer.

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement.

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them.

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm.

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it.

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better.

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?”

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?”

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–”

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest.

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story.

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep.

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!”

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do.

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead.

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch.

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck.

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core.

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!”

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus! “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one."

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy."

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #suggestive #mdni #sten writes!#wow how long since i last used that tag

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

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Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

#llewyn x reader #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis fic #llewyn angst #llewyn fluff #coen brothers #oscar isaac

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andrcs · 4 years

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hey friends waddup ! i’m jen , just turned 23 ( n am already feelin it ) , from the gmt-2 tmz , n i go by she/her pronouns . i had about , like , half an hour of sleep today n i’m actually redoing this entire intro because as i was editing the finished version to post it , i accidentally deleted the whole thing n tumblr wouldnt let me have it back ! it’s fine i’m fine :-) anywho i’m gonna let yall go n learn a lil more about our friend andre ! hopefully u like him but if u don’t thats ok bc sometimes i don’t either !!

𝐈. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 :

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : andre harris solomon .

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : n/a .

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡��𝐚𝐲 : august fourth , 1991 .

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 : leo .

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : cco of solo conglomerate .

𝐈𝐈. 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 :

during the solomon’s dynasty , the family had its fair share of tumbles and quite a few scandals . great uncle abel being arrested after trying to steal half his brother’s fortune was one was a big example . may god bless the traitous bastard’s soul . also cousin denzel , declaring in the middle of thanksgiving dinner he wanted to be a opera singer , of all fucking things , and giving grandpa harrison an almost stroke , could be counted . no matter what , though , nothing prepared the family to watch the solomon fortune’s heiress coming home on her christmas break during her freshman year in college with a baby bump and no father to claim the child she carried .

in the following years , with the slightly judgemental help of all of her closest relatives , but most of all , the never ending support of her parents , gaia solomon managed not only to get her college diploma , enter the family business and help solo grow into the biggest media conglomerate of the western hemisphere , one that had a solid hand over pretty much all aspects of media and entertainment . chances are if you wanted to publish or sign a record label deal or be on a tv show , sooner or later you would encounter someone from solo . but she had also manage to raise with the utmost love and care , no lack of sacrifices , and a healthy amount of ear-pulling , a man she can’t help to be most proud of .

andre solomon never knew who his father was , or cared to . and as far as his mother was concerned , he didn’t have a father . as a child , he never felt like he was missing anything in life , there was no angry void aching to be filled , no painful moments to remember his childhood by . he had been happy . no matter how busy his mom was , she was always loving and attentive whenever she was around , played baseball and football and soccer with him whenever he asked her to , and grandpa harrison was always available if the boy ever needed a guy figure in his life . of course , there were some bumps and bruises along the way , and a pinky finger he never fully got the feeling back , but it was a beautiful , fulfilling childhood .

as a teenager , recently acquainted with a never seen before freedom , and just out of puberty , andre grew more acquainted with getting in trouble . thankfully , nothing like cousin gina , who had to cut off a part of her ear after piercing it by herself with her tenth grade friends . while rambunctious and mischievous , he was always to smart to get caught doing something that could get him in any kind of real trouble , and by then , the family knew that they could trust andre to not be too irresponsible , and even if they didn’t , at least he had both ears intact .

a full grown adult , after getting his marketing degree in northwestern university , andre followed his mother’s footsteps and worked hard to climb the organizational ladder and reach the cco position , becoming one of his grandfather’s valued advisors along the way . these days , he works hard to keep his image clean and his professional life very well separated from his private one , being very succesful at it thus far .

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 :

andre can definitely be considered a little bit too cocky in his confidence . he knows his strengths and doesn’t believe in fake humility , always eager to be praised by whatever actions . also very focused , he feels as if he knows exactly what he deserves in all aspects of his life , and doesn’t hesitate to work for it until he’s satisfied .

he is also , however , a very fun loving individual . andre believes in the motto work hard , play hard . and you can definitely find him going on expensive trips to exotic locations or some rich person adventure more often that he’d like to admit . is constantly surrounded by a-list celebrities or clout chasers who attach to him due to his connections into the industry . and as being the center of attention is one of his favorite things , he absolutely adores it .

very , extremely sarcastic and definitely not the most outwardly affectionate person , it takes a lot to get him to soften up , but andre’s also extremely loyal to those he knows are his real friends , and always makes sure that they are with him no matter where he goes and what he gets .

is known to be quite the ladies’ man , and often lives up to the reputation , even though he’s settled down quite happily a few times during his adulthood . he’s not averse to relationships , per say , but also doesnt want to jump in carelessly , specially when he’s not felling the situation . is frequently engaged in some sort of drama with the girls in his life and even though he claims to dislike it , he loves all the attention he gets from them ( ew , i hate him , he’s gross )

𝐈𝐕. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

childhood best friend / chicago native ( 1 / 2 ) : people who’ve known him since before he hit puberty and became cool and who are with him til this very day . they might not be best friends for whatever reason but still are closer than most friendships out there . ( pearl , )

flings / could be past or present : could also range from the silliest to the most angsty stuff , andre definitely has the repertoire for it .

ride or dies ( 2 / 6 ) : truly ride or dies , his closest group of friends , the ppl that are with him no matter where he is and the only people outside his family he’d do whatever for . ( devin , watson )

exes / chicago native ( 2 / 2 ) : i have some ideas about them but lets just say one would have ended in decently good terms and one would not . ( vera , aurora )

friend with interests ( 0 / 2 ) : andre has a lot of ins with the media industry , and this person would definitely have an ulterior motive to hang around him , whether he’s realised it yet or no .

flirtationship ( 1 / 1 ) : first of all i hate that word my GOD but also , would be a kind of thing where they’d both be feeling each other but for some reason things just wouldn’t progress ? ( elissa )

there is a lot more but i’ve just written this thing twice in a row n my brain is currently just 2 neurons barely communicating so i should probably quit while i’m ahead ? but pls message me bc if u want to know some more about andre or come up w plots or just talk about how hot mbj is n how unfair it is that the rpc doesnt gif him nearly enough ? or we could also talk abt something i might be delusional rn so i have a bunch of interesting topics ok bye thanks for sticking around i love uuuu

#░ ▹ 𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 / / oh jenny !#wealthyhq:intro #oof this has been a ride ladies n gents #and am i glad to be done with it #also raise ur hand if u have a cousin gina in ur life

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asil-norahc · 7 years

Text

Just an idea popped out from Drawpile

Warning: I might make a lot of mistakes in this post bc why not so this is it. Oh, plus harsh language too (as usual i guess).

Okay okay, so, I was drawing on drawpile with peeps and something HAPPENED (greatest introduction ever)

see, on drawpile I draw HorrorSans like that (cartoon character and Croc -bloody bird guy- by @peanutable):

and LustSans this way (plus Pap cuz why not, although I changed his clothing so it isn’t very representative of the original):

And I somehow mixed them up at some point...

May I introduce you to... GoreSans!!!

Let me explain you what he would be if I happened to make an AU around the thing. Well, I DON’T intend to do many things about it so I wouldn’t call it an AU but since I can’t let a character like him with no proper environment to set him in I can’t let you without developping the idea a bit further.

It’s basically a coherent and logical mix between Underlust and Horrortale.

Now those who know what I’m talking about will think I consider them like dumbass, but I’ll develop the idea anyway and that needs a quick reminder of what those two AUs are (don’t blame me for my unecessary rigor):

Underlust. Well, I’d davise you to go check UnderLust Shame Cave, unless you’re under 18 and/or allergic to NSFW. WOW STOP ASKING YOURSELF I won’t make anything NSFW here don’t worry. I’ll try my best to soften everything for it to be accessible to anyone who might be reading this. If you feel offended despite my efforts, say it (politely) in the ask box and I’ll change the tags^^

Now I haven’t read UnderLust very much and I don’t know what occured since a long time, but here’s a quick summary of what I know :

First, it may be NSFW, but the comic has real depht and emotions. There are reasons to WHY THE FUCK EVERYONE FUCKS and that makes this AU completely acceptable to me. Now, the reasons are Gaster and the decrease of fertility due to... well, imprisonment in the underground and chronic lack of hope I guess. Gaster intended to fix the fertility problem by extracting the Lust from the soul of the first human, Chara, who was a... sort of... sadistic bitch? Anyways. Injecting the Lust into (adult) monsters had two consequences: relatively NOT FIX the fertility problem making the children the last ganaration, and turn any adult monster into a slut.

Yeah that definitely legimimates the NSFW for me. Not that it needs any legitimation anyway XD because the comic that came (pun?) out of it is about true love VS lust, sexual identity, abuse and all the emotional mess that comes out of it (hehe da inententional pun lol). So it is surpisingly interesting and kinda moving.

Horrortale. This AU is particular because it is settled in the FUTURE of one of the neutral run. Now, any sensible undertale player WOULDN’T want to have to face the consequences of any run that didn’t ended peacefully, would they?... uh, guess I would at some point...

Anyways, that makes the Horrortale AU really interesting because it just puts some canon facts together and think of how it would evolve with time.

Let’s observe some of said facts:

Toriel attempting to legally take the power and ease everyone’s pain with peace.

Oh! Your acts have consequences!^^ Peace isn’t an option now.

Putsch.

Crusader, surely future tyran.

Sans and Papyrus tempering the current crusader future tyran.

Bros will be bros.

... Click! (Am I the only one that saw a sort of threat in his last word..?)

SO Undyne putsched Toriel out (it’s definitely a coup since Undyne is the equivalent of the General of the Army) and now rules over the Underground with an iron fist in order to develop drastically the army for her to wage a holy war against humanity, implying she will do everything for her army to be well fed above citizens. Mh.

If she’s not going to become a tyran, I dunno.

Now I’m leaving canon facts to start about horror tale context:

To summary, the underground has turned into a sort of dystopic HELL OF A BLOODY MESS since the common monsters who didn’t contributed to Undyne’s army were left starving and had to rely on the only edible things they had on hand: other monsters.

Now feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I can remember, this is what turned monsters into... well, dangerous monsters.

SO, now, what would a mix between the two look like? Let’s finally talk about GoreTale!! (okay well I said I wouldn’t make an AU, BUT if this can inspire anyone to develop it into a proper one THAT’D BE FUCKIN COOL OMFG)

So it is set in the future of one particular run of UnderLust if this AU were to be adapted into an Undertale-like video game; Asgore is dead and the other souls disappeared, leaving the monsters behind with grief and despare. At least one monster has been killed by Frisk so that Undyne, Head of the Royal Harem (this is how it is in underlust DON’T ASK ME) decides to rule over the underground with fierce will to destroy all human kind. Because she knows nothing else, she turns the underground into a bloody brothel since she considers people had to surrender their mind, soul AND bodies to her royal persona and cause, plus she being blood thirsty after human’s decay, she does it overly sadistical and strong. Sans tried to temper her at first since his brother was now part of the official Royal Harem and feared for his safety, but she slowly became unreasonable. A bloody tyran, unrelenting and craving for physical and mental/moral abuse.

So Sans gave up on her, even though she was his queen, and left the capital with his brother. His confrontation against her left its mark on his skull, revealing a new aspect of this character: he no longer has only 1HP since he got some new LV by abusing and killing other monster for self-defense and his own need for food and relief. So the head blow didn’t kill him (and I don’t think it should have since Undyne surely must have wanted to keep him locked up somewhere she could torture him in order to mindfuck his personnality..?). Anyways, he must have scared her (or at least surprise her enough for her to let him go with his bro). They returned to Snowdin, and made an agreement with the Queen so that she doesn’t hunt them down: they guard Snowdin and bring her any human that comes by (since they are two of the rare monster that can live under harsh cold weather and that Undyne hates it, it makes sense, besides she doesn’t have to fear Sans and Papyrus’s ambitions to steal human souls from her bc they only intend to survive by their own, away from any form of control over them). And for the other snowdin inhabitants and soldiers she could send to Snowdin instead of potential / official trators, we can state that they are either loyal to the crown in some extreme ways but temper their wrath and lust around the skelebros bc they would surely bone them to death, making the boney bros kinda the chiefs in snowdin, or they are refugees that flee the Queen’s command and sought for protection of the weather and the skelebros, OR they all dead bc skelebros ate them up in all ways.

SO Goretale wouldn’t be the best life place to settle. Horrortale and Underlust aren’t either, but the mix between the two must be even more sordid and glaucous and bloody and slutty at some point and completely infernal. I could see an H.R Giger style for the environment that possibly evolved with the monsters, but with more colours. If you don’t see what I’m talking about, go check by yourselves; the first images must be eloquent enough.

Okay just one example that has no hidden nsfw:

Frogman - Giger meets Escher. imagine it with some red and gold and that’d be totally fit (or not. I don’t care.) I advise you to see more by searching HR Giger.

Warning: it’s art in the “noble” way, but it’s still definitely NSFW AND sordid as heck. So unless your innocence is so extreme you are immuned to sin or you love that kind of thing or you are appealed by some artistical curiosity, keep out!^^ (H.R Giger is a german artist that designed lots of great things including the Aliens of... Aliens. So it’s real good culture and you can check it out without any sinful interest other than artistical curiosity. You’re welcome.)

NOW THE REAL THING (finally. Why the fluff are my summaries always so long?!?)

You know that drawpile allows people to draw at the same time on the same canvas (I feel like I’m repeating myself). Well, tht’s great and it allows things like that to pop out:

Little funny doodles made with @peanutable (here is her OC Verdana, cute lil’ kiddy flowery skely-like monster that is innocence itself why am I not ashamed of putting Goresans in front of him?!? I SHOULD DIE ALREADY SAINTE MERDE !! ).

Now THE GREATEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME ON DRAWPIIILE !!!

Frisk by @sky-lia !! She and @peanutable are such amazing artists !! It really inspires me when I see them drawing, and putting my characters in front of theirs really shows the difference of skill! It encourages me a lot to practice and catch the level! And it is really lots of fun to do^^ Oh My Gnarls Frisk is SOOO adorable they manage to move and disconcert GoreSans! And it shows a nice and somewhat cute part of him I surely would never have thought of if I didn’t draw with them ;) (oh well, after all, in this crazy fandom people see cuteness anywhere, even in the most unsettling places, so OF COURSE GoreSans is also a Teddy Bear lmao)

That’s it for today! That’s All Forks! (this pun MUST have been made already)

#lilshits #GoreSans

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