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ramp-it-up · 4 months ago

Text

Captain. My Captain.

Mood

Summary: Steve has a kink. And you have the key.

Word count: 3.3 K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

A/N: This is a fic related to Call Me Captain When I... and comes right after Mood. It is also for @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Sir/Daddy Kink This is also part of @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grabby, Stabby, Oh My Challenge. Prompt: “just the tip I promise" *holds me down and fucks me full of cum.*” I'm deep in love with Steve and Libby. Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! This Steve curses, and he is also grumpy. Steve is weak for you but a bit of a control freak. Dominate Steve, Semi-public sex act, fingering, lots of dirty talk and verbal edging, literal edging, orgasm denial, Captain and Sir kink, size kink, praise oral (m receiving), raw p in v, creampie, aftercare, soft Steve after he cums. 😜

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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It started at the briefing.

Steve sat at the head of the table, full Captain mode. The stealth suit fit him like a second skin and you’d had to will your eyes forward more than once. His jaw was set, his focus sharp. Everyone else, Sam and a few others, listened while he laid out the plan to hunt the organization behind the ambush on your training op.

The bastards who hit you were already “neutralized,” though you had yet to learn what Steve meant by that. This mission was about the ones who’d sent them.

The ones who thought they could touch you.

It was the first time you’d worked directly with him in the field.

You were paying attention. To the plan. To him. To the way his fingers curled tight around the table’s edge. The sharp crease between his brows. The way he looked at everyone else like their Captain, and looked at you like a man who’d memorized the sound you made when you broke.

Steve’s reactions to you had always been inconvenient, but they were especially volatile now, on a mission, in uniform, with your professionalism at risk. Hundreds of people called him Captain and Sir every day, but when you said them, it short-circuited something primal inside him.

You weren’t supposed to be under his command outside of the bedroom. But this time, you were. And he was doing everything in his power to keep his shit together.

That meant no time alone. No slipping. No touching. No relief. He even insisted that you get yourself off every night to counter the maddening effects of no contact between you, but you defied him.

“Respectfully, Sir, I don’t want to.”

He’d nearly broken then, but understood. Nothing felt better than you two together. He’d decided the same. Two weeks of self-control would be hell. But he’d endured worse.

You weren’t so sure you would last.

When he asked the room, “Any questions before we move?” his gaze locked on you, unflinching.

You tilted your head innocently.

“No, Sir.”

His breath hitched. Just enough that you noticed.

Sam started talking, but you didn’t hear a word. You were too busy watching Steve’s knuckles strain, his jaw tick, and the storm brewing behind his ice-blue eyes.

He was daring you to say it again.

You straightened, hands folded neatly, waiting for him to look away.

He didn’t.

After the briefing, you didn’t even make it three steps down the hall before his hand circled your arm, pulling you into the breakroom. Not rough, but firm enough that your heart stuttered.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice low.

You blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sweetness.

“What was what?”

“You know damn well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Sir.” You leaned in, breath warm against his ear.

“Didn’t mean to distract you, Captain.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was the sound of a man fraying at the seams.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll bend you over the nearest tactical table.”

Your pulse fluttered. “Is that a threat or a promise, Sir?”

His hand drifted, barely brushing the curve of your ass and it was subtle, calculated, and electric enough to buckle your knees.

“You’re walking the line, Lieutenant.”

You lowered your gaze, fighting for control you didn’t want.

“Apologies…”

He nodded, sharp and curt. Turned to go and you watched America’s Ass. You waited just long enough, then let the last word fall like a stone in water.

“…Captain.”

He froze. Just for a second. Shook his head and walked away.

But it didn’t end there.

On the jet, the tension only sharpened. You sat across from him, knees brushing, the hum of the engines a thin veil over the silence between you. The rest of the team prepped and chatted, oblivious.

Steve didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just watched you watch him. Your eyes dropped to his lap, tracing the outline of his cock beneath the suit. You licked your lips deliberately, remembering the weight and stretch of him.

You leaned forward, passing him a file, fingers brushing his on purpose.

“Here you go, Sir.”

Your voice was husky and he knew you were wet, and probably desperate for any contact with him. So he didn’t take the file from you.

Didn’t move.

Just stared at you, like he was one slip away from throwing you over his knee in front of God, country, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice dark and tight.

You smiled, all sugar. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve’s jaw flexed as he turned to Sam, locking the need away with brutal discipline. You swallowed, steadying yourself. The mission came first.

It always did.

The mission’s success only sharpened the edge. By the time the gala rolled around, neither of you had cooled off, not even close. You’d basically begged him before the event. Your hands tangled in his shirt, your lips bruising his, your body pressed tight against his in the darkened corner of your quarters.

“Please,” you whispered. “Just the tip.”

Steve laughed against your mouth, but he’d pulled back, steady even with his pulse racing wild beneath your fingers. His hands cupped your face, thumbs sweeping over your swollen lips.

“We both know that just the tip would end up with me holding you down and fucking you full of cum, Libby.”

Your eyes rolled. “Please…”

Your wanton moan had him a hair’s breath from giving in. But you both still had a job to do.

“I want to take my time with you.” His voice was all gravel, thick with promise. “You’ll get all of me. But not now. Not like this.”

So you dressed for the gala, the ache between your thighs a constant reminder that Captain Rogers was still calling the shots. And you let him think he’d won right up until the Senator asked that question.

The man had the nerve to sidle up to you, drink in hand, charm dripping off him like oil, and ask what it was like to serve under Captain Rogers.

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I always follow orders,” you said, slow and sweet. “Isn’t that right, Sir?”

You saw it, the way Steve’s glass froze halfway to his lips, the flicker of fire in his eyes, the sharp clench of his jaw as he forced down a cough to cover the sound of his own restraint breaking.

Five minutes later, he excused himself. You followed.

The hallway was empty. His hand caught your wrist the second you were close enough, pulling you flush against him, pressing your back to the wall. You were so wet.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

You blinked up at him, lashes fluttering.

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

His breath ghosted your lips.

“You think it’s funny? Teasing me like that. In front of him.”

You smiled angelically.

“I think it’s hot. Watching you try to keep control when all you want to do is take me apart.”

His hands tightened against the wall.

“You know what happens when I lose control, Libby.”

You smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling tight around your wrist as he dragged you into the nearest supply closet. The door clicked shut, the air was charged, and you could barely breathe.

“You wanted this,” he growled pinning you back against the shelves. His hands roamed, hiking your dress higher and higher until his fingers brushed bare skin.

“You’ve been begging for it since the damn briefing.”

Your breath hitched, but your voice stayed steady.

“Still am.”

The second the word Captain left your mouth, his control shattered and he was on you.

His hand covered your mouth to muffle the sounds, the other sliding between your thighs, fingers slipping deep, parting your folds roughly, desperate to feel you. He swallowed every broken noise you couldn’t hold back, his mouth finding your neck, your shoulder, your breast. His teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, and his lips branding you.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, voice cracking open at the edges.

You moaned, helpless against the waves of pleasure.

His fingers pumped harder, faster. His control slipping with every stroke. His fingers worked you harder, faster, until your legs trembled and your world seemed to bend around you.

Then, right before you came, he stopped.

“You wanna play games, Sweetheart?” His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

When he pulled back, he held you steady, smoothing your dress back down with those same hands that had almost wrecked you. His lips ghosted over your temple, while what he did still vibrated through both of you.

“You okay?��

You swallowed. You couldn’t even be mad at him because you knew how much you’d teased him.

“Yeah, I….you. That was…” your voice trailed off. “...Are you?”

His smirk was pure sin. “Nope.”

You laughed, breathless and wrecked.

“You know it would help if you didn’t look so damn smug.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, you haven’t seen smug yet. Wait until I give you at least three orgasms.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So you keep telling me.”

—----

The second the gala ended, you’d expected him to break. To drag you into the nearest car, or corner you in some dark hallway before the flashbulbs had even cooled.

But no.

Steve kept his distance.

All night, you’d felt his eyes track you across the room, the heat of it searing through the silk of your dress, the weight of his control stretched so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped.

But he never touched you again. Never slipped. Not once.

He even sent you home in a separate car. Your heart couldn’t take it, but you knew there was more to come. And it was long past midnight when the knock came. You opened your door, heart already pounding, and there he stood.

His shirt sleeves were rolled, the tie hanging loose around his neck, his jacket nowhere to be seen. His restraint had finally cracked, written all over his face. But his voice stayed low, even.

“Pack your bag,” he said. “Now.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t need to. You just obeyed.

Ten minutes later, you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, your thighs pressed tightly together. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you, hands flexing on the wheel like he was holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

By the time the car stopped, a quiet, private safehouse on the edge of the city, your skin was flushed, your pulse wild.

The door had barely shut behind you when you felt it.

His hands.

One gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, the other on your waist.

“You think you can tease me like that,” he murmured, voice like gravel, “and I’ll just sit back and let it slide?”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t teasing, Sir.”

His eyes darkened, and the corner of his mouth lifted. not a smile, more like a warning.

“You don’t get to play innocent. Not after two weeks of ‘Yes, Sir’ and that sweet little tilt of your head. You’ve been testing me since the briefing.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You felt the heat pool low in your belly, your legs weak beneath the weight of his words, the sharpness of his stare.

“On your knees.”

The order sent a shiver through you and you dropped without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs, head tilted back to look at him, waiting.

Wanting.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, jaw tight, chest rising slowly.

“Look at you,” he muttered, shaking his head, more to himself than to you.

“So damn pretty when you’re obedient.”

When he undid his belt, his fly, and freed his cock, you swallowed hard. The size of him, the sheer weight and length, was always a shock to your system no matter how many times you’d seen him.

You glanced up through your lashes, the shape of a question lingering in your throat.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth as silk.

“You’ve been begging for this with every word you’ve said for the last two weeks. Work for it.”

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat, the heft, the impossible stretch of him. Your lips parted, and when you took him in, his breath hissed through his teeth, one hand threading to your scalp.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, the barest encouragement as you started to bob on his cock, lips stretched wide and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you. Captain’s perfect little mouth.”

You worked him slow at first, savoring the low growl of his approval, the way his hips flexed, controlled even now. But when you hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, wide-eyed, his control cracked.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand tightened on your head, hips pressing forward until you took him deeper, until tears dropped from your eyes. But you didn’t pull back. You wanted this, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

When he finally eased out of your mouth, his thumb wiped your lips, tracing the slick curve.

“Up,” he ordered softly, and you obeyed, rising to your feet. His hands were on you the second you stood, spinning you, pressing you against the nearest wall, his large body caging you in completely.

“You like making me lose control, don’t you?” he rasped against your ear, his hard length grinding against your ass through the thin fabric of your panties.

“You like knowing no one else gets to see me like this.”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

His hand slid between your thighs, fingers finding you soaked and ready.

“Of course you do. You’ve been dripping for me all damn night.”

His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, voice dark and ragged.

“And I’ve been thinking about bending you over every flat surface I could find. About splitting you open on my cock until you forget your own name.”

You whimpered, grinding back against him, desperate.

“You wanted me to break, sweetheart?”

His hand gripped your hip, his other one sliding between your legs again, fingers skating through your slick.

“You’ve got me. But you’re going to pay for every second you spent torturing me.”

He didn’t take you to bed. Not yet.

Instead, he lifted you, like you weighed nothing at all, and carried you to the couch, settling you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his hips, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You did, your gaze locking with his as he guided you down onto him, slowly, filling you inch by impossible inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he groaned, holding you still once you’d taken all of him.

“You feel so fucking tight. So goddamn perfect around me.”

You clung to him, barely able to breathe, stretched to the limit. It hurt so good.

“You wanted your Captain,” he whispered against your lips. “Now you’ve got him.”

And then he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts that pushed you to the edge of madness, his mouth capturing every moan, every broken plea you couldn’t hold back. And you knew, right then, there’d be no walking straight tomorrow.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—---

You lost track of how many times he made you cum. His mouth, his hands, the punishing rhythm of his hips. Every part of him wrecked you with single-minded precision.

But it wasn’t until long after your voice was hoarse from moaning his name, long after your body trembled from overstimulation, that Steve softened.

He shifted beneath you, easing out of your body with care, murmuring something low and tender against your skin. You couldn’t make out the words because your brain was a fog of pleasure and endorphins. But the gentle tone was enough to settle you.

Strong arms gathered you close, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carried you to the bed like you were precious. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the salt of his skin, the faintest scent of sweat and his cologne.

He laid you down carefully and climbed in beside you. His big hands smoothed over your hips, your thighs, his thumbs catching on the marks he’d left behind.

You didn’t mind them. You liked that you’d wear the shape of him tomorrow. On your skin. Between your legs. In the slight limp no one would question, but he would know.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, still dazed, sated and warm. “Yes, Sir.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled the blanket up over both of you.

“Didn’t mean to go so hard,” he murmured, brushing your curls back from your forehead.

“Just… you get under my skin, Libby. Make me forget how to think.”

“You didn’t forget how to think,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bicep, the hard line of his chest. “You planned that.”

His answering grin pressed against your shoulder.

“Maybe a little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he asked, “And you knew what you were doing at the gala.”

You smirked against his throat.

“You liked it.”

Steve groaned and pulled you tighter.

“Liked it too much. Nearly lost it when you said Sir like that in front of the Senator.”

You laughed softly.

“You like it when I say it in private more?”

His hand slid to the base of your spine. His grip was warm.

“I like it when you say it when you're wrecked. When you’re trying not to come and you whisper it like a prayer. That’s when it ruins me.”

The silence that followed was full of heat, but not urgency. The hunger had been sated. What remained was the closeness. The wanting still there, but quiet now. Like embers under ash.

You moved and winced, the soreness sparking up.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just that you’re huge,” the words tumbled out unfiltered.

Steve stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No. Not even close. Just… I’m still adjusting. In my soul.”

He laughed then, head falling back, the sound full and rich and happy. It shook the bed, and you smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you.

“Who knew you were this much of a brat?”

You gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Only for you, Captain. My Captain.”

His expression softened completely. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and for a second, there was something deeper than heat in the space between you.

Something like devotion.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Every time. Before, during, after. I love you Libby.”

You leaned into the touch.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Steve. I love you too.”

And with that, he kissed you, slow and lingering, nothing like the bruising hunger from earlier. This was patient. Tender. The kind of kiss that promised more.

Not just in bed, but in the quiet spaces between missions and chaos. In the in-between moments where your heartbeat slowed and the world finally held still.

Eventually, you drifted off, curled against him, your leg thrown over his thigh, his hand resting on the curve of your hip.

And even in sleep, you felt it, his presence wrapped around you like a shield. Steady. Unshakable. Yours.

Captain. Sir. Steve.

All of him.

——

Read Payback

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northopalshore · 7 months ago

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Venus in the

Union persona chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

:¨ ·.· ¨: Other posts : Union Masterlist | Main Masterlist 🍪

`· . ୨୧ Venus here tells you how you show your affection to your future spouse when you first met. How you flirt with them, how you show them appreciation, your first date etc.

୨୧ Please do not repost without consent ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔฅ🔉

Aries (°1,°13,°25) | 1st House

Perhaps you will be "brave" for them, like being rebellious or insisting that they are the one you want to see. If your parents don't agree with you then you'd be backing them up for example. You could also be doing things by yourself to see them; trips or travelling especially if aspected with Sagittarius or pisces. You also flirt by complimenting them one second and taking it back the next. Teasing them, playing with them, tempting them. Don't tell me you've forgotten how horny Aries is (though sometimes it can come off as all bark & no bite). You love getting a reaction from your person, keeping them on edge. There is a part of you that is ecstatic every time you meet them. You might feel like a teenager all over again.

Taurus (°2,°14,°26) | 2nd house

You will be very generous with gifts & trinkets. Perhaps you will love to buy things for your significant other when you first meet or get to know each other. Paying for trips, meals, gifts. Giving them verbal affirmations as simple as "you look wonderful today" or "this suits you a lot". You will be very attentive to what they like to wear and what they eat; if they favour certain brands or desserts, you will keep a mental note of that to surprise them with in the future. In the second house, you are a big gifter, the only thing that would beat you is if Venus was in Capricorn & in the 2nd house lmao. You will also adopt a very relaxed approach, taking your time to really get to know your partner.

Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | 3rd house

You flirt by taking, connecting through mental foreplay, wanting to see their reactions, know their likes and dislikes and understand just what it is that makes them tick. You compliment generously, but there is always a somewhat teasing tone that comes with it. You could spend your nights talking with each other. You enjoy making your partner laugh and feel comfortable. Although you love to compliment them unlike Libra you are more realistic; complimenting them on certain skills or talents they may show you. There may be a fast paced rhythm between you as well, feeling excited when you meet them or every time you get together.

Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | 4th house

When you first start dating, a lot of your dates may be indoors or at your house, somewhere comfortable to the both of you. You could cook for them, or make things for them. Recommend your favorite food or hobbies, go on long walks or out for dinner. You enjoy just being engulfed in your partner's presence. You flirt by subtle caressing or handholding, touching. Nothing too abrupt. You may find yourself clinging to your partner often, laughing at almost all the jokes that they do, really getting in your feelings. You baby them, but at the same time you like being treated like one too. This is the "my man, my man, my man" placement lmaoo. You could be more.. submissive around them at first. Embodying the traditional aspects of a woman or the feminine counterpart in the relationship.

Ex: Beyoncé has Venus in Capricorn (°28 cancer) in her Union persona chart. She has always given much credit to her husband saying "he taught her how to be a woman" in past interviews. Lana del Rey has Venus in Virgo (°28 cancer) in her Union persona chart... Nobody is surprised. Just check her catalog.

Leo (°5,°17,°29) | 5th house

This is the placement that will make you want to go to every movie, every musical and every party with your lover. You flirt by telling them that they are the shining star, the ensemble cast. Perhaps you may often tell your partner how gorgeous they look, and how they alone light a passionate fire in your heart. You are very playful and flirtatious with them. You may borderline worship them, and expect the same treatment as well. Physical attraction is also undeniable. Dates will be very fun and entertaining, often involves going to touristic places or something "classic" i.e movie dates, dinner dates, bowling with friends. No matter how mundane, there is still this playful spark between you. This is also the placement that fills your dates with friends, where you'll be playing games or something together.

Virgo (°6,°18) | 6th house

You will be very invested in their routine, love asking how their day went and whether they are doing well or not. Paying attention to the smallest details about them, slightly nagging them lmao. You flirt by taking care of them, thinking of them, doing things for them you know means the most. You'll make them playlists to listen to, and ask for their opinion; that's right! A Virgo asking for someone else's perspective seems like such a foreign concept doesn't it? But here, you actually take the time to listen or apply their opinions. You could think of "servicing" them in a way, being useful to them, wanting them to see you as someone they see as valuable. I find that people with this placement are always with their partner whether on the phone or going out somewhere. Spending almost everyday together in some way.

Ex: Priscilla Presley has Venus in Virgo (°6 Virgo) in the 4th house. Most of their meetings (dates) were at his place when they were in West Germany." After their first meeting, Elvis invited Priscilla to his house on multiple occasions." - Harper's Bazaar

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Libra (°7,°19) |7th house

You are extremely romantic. You flirt like you're the main protagonist in a French romance film, hitting all the clichés. You adopt this calm persona, wanting to woo your partner with special dates just for the two of you. Ah, I can hear the distant clinking of wine glasses. The light from the candles you lit waved for a moment as the glasses hit each other. See, you've got me in the mood too. A lot of kisses, a lot of touching, caressing, and smooth talking. A true lover. If you're a man, you'll do everything gentleman like, and if you're a woman then you adopt the essence of feminine energy. Suddenly, you're all fancy and demure hoho. This is also a "gifter" placement, but not like Taurus or Capricorn. You give a gift according to the moment or as an "etiquette" like flowers on every romantic date or when you're coming over.

Scorpio (°8,°20) | 8th house

"Oh they fuckin". I'm kidding, but not really. On one hand you may be very cautious with your partner, keeping somewhat of a distance between them and yourself. On the other hand, you can't keep your hands to yourself. You get closer by sharing things about yourself that you wouldn't normally share with other people. You flirt by locking eyes, exchanging how you feel through body language. Soul bonding, whether you bone or not is out of the question as what's certain is that intimacy that you share. Feeling as close as possible to your partner in whatever way that you yourself are most comfortable with. You flirt by asking them more about themselves, their greatest desires, fears and pivotal moments that have happened in their life prior to getting to know you & finding reliable common ground. Sharing the things you don't normally share with others, almost right off the bat. They could help you conquer some sort of fear as well or vice versa.

Ex: Zendaya has Venus in Scorpio (°15 Gemini) in the 2nd house in the union personal chart. She seems to have a very chill but at the same time very trusting relationship with Tom Holland. Their chemistry was evident from very early on (have you seen those spiderman interviews? Lmaoo)

Sagittarius (°9,°21) | 9th house

You adopt a very friendly way of flirting, cracking jokes and making your partner laugh. Pushing them to do new things or open their mind to different forms of dates. You could act as their personal therapist in some scenarios. Perhaps you will be teaching them to have more fun or to let loose and not focus too much on the little things, calming their nerves. You'll teach them to be laid back and truthful with how they express themselves. Supporting them and making dumb grand gestures to make them happy. You could also travel for them i.e .meet them at their country, town or house. You could act quite dorky as well. What's important to you is the understanding that you share with your partner. Learning about them, similar to Gemini & Scorpio, but you're at your own pace and it doesn't really come off too intensely.

Capricorn (°10,°22) | 10th house

You will be a strong support system for your partner. You show them affection by making room for them in your schedule, helping them solve problems and giving them full encouragement. That being said, you're not going to be supportive of them doing something irrational. You also enjoy buying things for them, providing the things that they need, buying things that they like. You'll like to act as the "man" or "provider" in your relationship early on, even if you are a woman. You show affection by keeping your word, showing up and acting on your plans and promises.

Ex: My friend has Venus in the 10th house in her Union persona chart. She always had a habit of spoiling her FS, spending money to go visit him at his state, paying for his meals. However, her FS also has Venus in Capricorn so.. they end up transferring each other the money insisting that it's fine lmao. Both have the mindset of a provider.

Aquarius (°11,°23) | 11th house

You will treat them like a true friend, a partner in crime, someone you can trust and do things with. You flirt by taking your partner out to do fun, wild, experimental things together, going out of your comfort zone. Similar to Aries, but more relaxed. It could also mean taking a more casual approach to your relationship, not being completely attached at first, allowing each other to be independent. It could be a slow burn type of relationship, where you don't really realize you are in love with them until later i.e natural progression. You might not do too many romantic activities, as what's important to you is spending time with them how you want or what's most compatible with you and your partner's wishes.

Ex: My parents both have Venus in Aquarius in a Leo degree (°29 & °19), they told me their dates were pretty ordinary (their words not mine lol) went out with friends, went to dinner, and watched movies together.

Ex 2: Jennie has Venus in Scorpio (°15 Gemini) in the 11th house. I'm not sure if Taehyung is end game for her, but from what I heard they seem to have a very chill relationship, granted very private and intimate which tracks with these placements.

Pisces (°12,°24) | 12th house

You are going to be head over heels for them lmao. Picturing marriage and your life far into the future even on the first date. Feeling incredibly romantic and drawn to your person. You get very sentimental around them too. It seems everything you do will revolve around your partner even if you didn't mean it to happen that way. All the songs you listen to, all the clouds in the sky resemble them now. You are also very forgiving and compassionate about your person, putting them on a pedestal and believing that they are unlike anyone you've ever been with before. You will flirt by opening up and listening to them, talking all day & all night, just enjoying the feeling that their presence brings to you. Some people with this placement will dedicate songs to their partner as well. There could be a tendency to get caught up in your own feelings however.

Ex: Ariana Grande has Venus in Cancer (°28 cancer) in the 12th house. Just listen to "Positions" you'll get the gist of it.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Hey Nana..."

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

#venus #venus in the union persona chart #union persona chart guide #union persona chart observations #union asteroid #union persona chart #union #astrology observations #astrology blog #astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology content #astrology #astrology ramblings #astrology community #meeting future spouse astrology #future spouse astrology #future spouse

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lovelylittlegrim · 6 months ago

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Headcanon that Eddie isnt the kind of guy to say I love you first. He’d had it rough growing up. Dead beat parents and very little affection until he moved in with Wayne.

And Wayne is a quiet man. More action than words so I think Eddie would learn how to love from him. With actions. A new mug here, a pat there, a plate of breakfast after a rough shift. Acts of service as their love language.

Steve Harrington though… He also grew up with very little affection but he didn’t have an uncle Wayne. So, love for him is different. Steve falls hard and fast and he is always quick to say it, always the first one to say ‘I love you’. And he means it everytime and is devastated when it isn’t reciprocated.

When steddie happens, Steve would try to play it cautious. He’s been burnt so many times that he holds the words to his chest for weeks, maybe even months before they finally come spilling out. And, Eddie would be stunned. He could probably count on his hands the times he’s been verbally told he’s loved. And, of course he loves steve too. How could anyone not love steve? But Eddie can’t get the words out.

And Steve, he gets it. He knows Eddie. Knows that even though Eddie can’t say it, that the way he leans into Steve and kisses him all soft and sweet and deep says it for him. It’s in Eddie’s big expressive eyes the way it’s never been in anyone else’s before. Steve wants to hear the words, but he doesn’t need them from Eddie because he can see it. It’s mutual. It’s reciprocated and that’s enough for Steve.

I do think Eddie will say it. Later. Maybe a few months down the line and I think it’ll be such a random and seemingly unremarkable moment. That Steve is probably just sitting there, all focused and squinty eyed as he’s working on something and Eddie is watching him. And Eddie loves him. Loves him so so fucking much and the words don’t seem all that scary or hard to say anymore.

“Steve?”

“Hmm,” Steve hums, not looking up from the bracelets he promised to make for Max and El.

And Eddie can’t stop the grin on his face, the relief as the words roll so easily off his tongue. So earnest and honest and heartfelt, “I love you.”

Steves head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks over at Eddie.

Eddie feels warm beneath that gaze, hair tickling his cheek as he tugs it over his mouth. It’s out of habit more than embarrassment, or vulnerability.

He watches Steves throat bob when he swallows, the way his mouth ticks up at the corners, how it grows into a wide smile. He doesn’t make it a big deal, doesn’t even comment on it other than to say, “Love you too.”

#steddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things headcanons #steve harrington #eddie munson #idk why I’m suddenly so obsessed with these two #I think they both have issues and that they’re the SAME but also OPPOSITE and I want to write about it all #LLG #LLG writes

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lxdymoon0357 · 7 months ago

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hi beautiful !

Can i ask yandere calisto(of death only waiting for vilainess) with a lapileon reader of my in law are obssesef with me(she have cursed blood)

(warnings: blackmailing, poisoning, forced marriage, forceful harvest of body parts (your blood), murder,manipulation, verbal abuse, mentions of suicide.)

Yandere! Callisto Regulus X Lapileon! Reader

◙ Callisto is a very dangeranged and protective man, everyone knows about him. Especially you, one of the darling children from the great noble yet very secretive Lapileon family filled with the genetics of red eyes and quiet and reserved demeanors, though not from Eorka empire exactly, but rather from the midlands in between Eorka empire and the nearest other empire.

◙ Your quiet and reserved demeanor is what caught his attention to you in the first place, your family and you didn't regularly attend, you kept to yourselves and you all were VERY MODEST as compared to the trends of the empire which came and went by, always covering every part of your skin.

◙ Of-course it's not long before he tries to become your acquaintance, getting closer to your brother, Therdeo, and eventually you. Forming alliance, he takes the chance to court you. It's not hard considering it would be rude to deny the crown prince, wouldn't it? I believe it would almost deplete your image if you denied him, though of-course he would say no pressure in marrying him.

◙ I imagine it was an utter mistake he learnt of the family's secret. He forcefully entered on one of those days where you got so sick, you were bleeding and vomiting blood and the very few were trying to force him out, but he entered nonetheless and he demanded as to why you're not having anyone and why you're so nervous and everything.

◙ He figured he stumbled on something which will help him tie you down to him. And he was all too glad about it. Of-course you had to admit your family secret and he used it tie you with him, claiming he will make sure nothing can happen and also suggesting to use your blood to help the empire, which you of-course denied as it was family rules to never use your blood as a method of killing.

◙ Of-course it resulted in anger and him blackmailing to kill your entire family and reveal your secrets so no Lapileon ever in the world would be safe, as everyone would be thrown into the severed lines of being "demonic". And you of-course didn't want it, he knew..

◙ Of-course that's why within 5 months of courting, you got married to him, he says it's true love between you two!~ How cute, a reserved noble and boisterous crown prince together, a sight to behold really!! Of-course they don't have to know what goes on behind the scene

◙ Constant beration of your family, telling you how they were isolating you..Harvests your blood for the sole purpose of bettering his immunity incase you one day try to kill him off, he couldn't afford that. Imagine leaving his darling spouse behind!

◙ He adores you so much, he gets you the most gorgeous red coloured jewels to match your red eyes, the most prettier red dresses, red shoes, red metallic hair accessories..everything to match your gorgeous red eyes that he adores so much.

◙ He doesn't get mad often at you, but of-course days exist when something ticks him off, he blackmails you by threatening to reveal family secret and does reveal it to some servant for a while and then later on kills off the servant when he cools down and realized how hurt you must be!

◙ Of-course some days you somehow manage to piss him off, it might result in blood splatter to kill off a few servant or verbal abuses thrown your way, of-course you're just so idiotic that you don't even know what's good for you! He's doing this for your betterment and you have the audacity to even think of someone other than him? Of annoying him, of being ungrateful to him?! He's your fucking husband, you idiot. You're just such an idiot, it would sometimes been better that you don't exist!

◙ Of-course he never means those words, darling! What are you talking about? He never meant it, t was just in anger and heat of the moment. After berating you, verbally abusing you or even hitting you once or twice in anger, he couldn't control..he does love you at the end of the day, cuddling upto you, checking to make sure you don't have a cut anywhere he would hate to see you upset if you accidentally killed someone!

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gotaksboyfie · 3 months ago

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Hi, could you please do something about a reader who had a toxic relationship in the past and is now dating Gotak, but she still has some trauma. If you feel comfortable, I loved your writing and I love Gotak!

undoing scars

gif creds @slytherinshua

paring go hyuntak x female reader

summary after a toxic ex, you struggle when hyuntak keeps coming to dates late because it reminds you of unpleasant memories. but through his love and actions, you learn to heal from your past.

word count 2.1k

warnings/tags past verbal + physical abuse, hurt/comfort, insecurities, angst

a/n the toxic ex is just a male oc, not a character or intended to be anyone

hyuntak🩷: will be late 15 minutes. wait for me!!

you read hyuntak’s message with a heavy sigh. you guys were supposed to go eat at a restaurant, but it seems like hyuntak was running late.

a small tendril of fear started to bloom in your heart. this was how it started with minseok. he gradually started coming later and later to dates, eventually just canceling them last minute.

that was just the beginning of your horrible relationship. you shuddered slightly at the memories, burying them deep down again. hyuntak was different, you knew that. do you really?

staring at the tablecloth, a waiter stopped by your table.

“miss? are you dining alone today?” he asked, preparing to take your order.

“ah no,” you grimaced slightly, “i’m just waiting for my date. he’s running late, you see”

the waiter widened his eyes in surprise and apologized. “i’ll come back when he’s here,”

you checked your phone again anxiously. what was hyuntak doing that was taking him so long? you bounced your leg up and down, hoping to will all thoughts of minseok away.

hyuntak is different. he will always better miles better than that piece of shit. he'd never treat you like that. you reaffirmed yourself repeatedly in your head, watching the minutes on your phone tick by.

"reader! i'm so sorry," hyuntak panted, slightly out of breath. he looked down at where you sat, with a concerned glance.

you were frozen with an unreadable expression on your face. your eyes held some fear, and hyuntak hoped it was just because he was late.

"i brought you these flowers as an apology," he nervously held out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you blinked and your expression did a total 180. you beamed brightly, and took the bouquet while complimenting it.

"hyuntak this is so pretty! thank you so much! also, it's really okay if you're late a couple minutes. i can handle it," you rambled on, complimenting the flowers.

hyuntak sighed, "reader, i promise this won't happen again. i'm really sorry about being late,"

you shook your head at his apology, "i already told you it's okay, stop apologizing,"

taking a sear across from you, hyuntak watched as you flagged down the same waiter from before and began ordering. he smiled softly, admiring you. you continued the date as if nothing happened, but there was a small pit growing in your stomach—unknown to hyuntak.

the next time it happens, you can't help but shed a tear or two. hyuntak was supposed to be at your house 30 minutes ago, but he said he was running late. again.

sure, the last time it happened was a few weeks ago, and hyuntak's allowed to be late sometimes. but it doesn't stop the anxiety from creeping in. you've been through this before, you know what's going to happen.

arguments, screaming matches, a few slaps here and there, and then suddenly hyuntak will show up with a new girl and you're tossed aside the second you become "boring"—

you breathe in and out, nice and slow, to stop yourself from hyperventilating. nothing good will happen if you work yourself into a panic. your doorbell ringing knocks you out of your spiral.

you rush to the door, opening it to see hyuntak slightly bruised up—but other wise fine.

"hyuntak! are you okay? oh my god, come in," you panic slightly, dragging him to sit on your couch. "what happened?"

hyuntak exhales softly as he sits down, "some people tried to pick on juntae, and he called me for help. i'm sorry for being late,"

you chastise yourself for being so stupid. of course hyuntak was busy doing something else, you're not the only person in the world.

"is he okay? i hope he's not hurt." you pull out some ointment and a few bandaids, carefully applying them to his face. "are you hurt anywhere?"

"not really, just a little sore. nothing some rest won't fix."

the second you finish, hyuntak bear hugs you and tackles you down to the couch to cuddle. "put a movie or whatever you'd like on, i'm gonna take a nap,"

you inhale sharply at the sudden movement and you find yourself frozen for a moment before you remember that this is hyuntak. he wouldn't hurt you. you recollect yourself quickly before hyuntak can notice.

you bring a hand to his scalp and start lightly scratching, before reaching for the remote to turn on a show. "goodnight baby," you mutter, and hyuntak's out like a light.

the next 2 months pass without anymore incidents, and you've managed to quell that nagging feeling in your head. but it happens a third time.

once was fine, twice is just coincidence, but a third time has to mean something's up. right? it's been nearly an hour of you waiting on a bench near a night market. unshed tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you look at your phone screen.

hyuntak🩷: baby i'm so sorry i was working on a project with juntae and sieun and it completely slipped my mind i'll be there soon - 6:44

hyuntak🩷: i think i'm gonna have to stay a little longer because our progress is really slow right now - 7:02

hyuntak🩷: just 10 more minutes and i'll be omw!!get yourself something to snack on in the meantime 😋 - 7:25

hyuntak was supposed to meet you at 6:30. it was 7:26 now. was it that easy for him to forget about you? what if he's not even with juntae and sieun—and he's really just with some other girl and they're laughing about how oblivious you are to everything.

the tears cascade down your cheeks like a waterfall, attracting the attention of some people near you. you sniffle and wipe them, but it does little to stop you from crying silently.

you can't stay here any longer, you have to leave. you pick up your things and start speed walking home. the tears don't stop, not even for a moment.

why would hyuntak do that to you? he was supposed to be different than.. than him. the painful reminder makes you choke on a sob. you fumble for your phone and hurriedly dial juntae, noticing that the time was well past the 10 minutes hyuntak said he'd by done by.

"oh! reader, why are you calling?" juntae asks. he's clearly shocked to see you calling, and he makes a noise of concern when he hears you sob.

"wh- where's hyuntak?" your voice is shaky and small as you barely gasp out your words.

juntae swallows and tries to put a comforting voice on. "ah, he just left right now in a hurry. don't worry, he's on h-" you hang up the call before juntae can finish his sentence.

why are you crying? why did you automatically assume the worst of hyuntak? you fumble with your door code before slamming it shut and collapsing on your bed.

hyuntak would never do that, he's never done anything to make you think he would do that. you cry harder knowing that you were a bad girlfriend for instantly assuming the worst of him.

a memory of minseok arguing with you appears in your head, and you can't stop it from replaying in your mind.

"why are you making such a big deal out of nothing? it's just one fucking date, i don't get it," minseok scoffs in your face with an annoyed expression.

you blink away a few tears and try to reason with him again, "i'm just upset that you waited 30 minutes to tell me. if you knew you couldn't make it, why did you make me wait so long? also you always do this, it's not a one off thing."

"do i have to tell you everything? seriously, it's not even that bad. you're lucky i'm still with a pathetic bitch like you," minseok's words stab into your chest, and you can't help a small sob that bubbles out of you.

"minseok, it's about the principle of it. you don't respect me or my time-" a stinging sensation on your cheek interrupts you and you realize that minseok has slapped you.

"respect this and respect that. why can't you just fucking shut up and respect my ears? nobody wants to listen to your feelings, okay? get it in your head, god. so fucking annoying for what," minseok walks away from you and leaves your house, slamming the door behind him. before he's out though, he looks at you and you hear him mutter "such a crybaby."

you hold your cheek in shock. did minseok just slap you? remembering what he said, you burst into more tears. he was right, you really were a crybaby.

you're too worked up to notice that hyuntak has opened the door to your house, and that he's standing in your room's doorway.

hyuntak freezes, not knowing what to do.

"reader.. are you okay?" he tentatively asks, slowly approaching you. you look up at him but all you can see is his vague silhouette through your tears.

you can't see his worried expression, and you mistake it for annoyance.

"'m sorry for- for leaving the night market." you hiccup slightly, "'m okay i promise, i'm fine,".

hyuntak steps closer to you and moves his hand to your face to wipe away your tears, but you flinch and block it with your forearm.

something in hyuntak's heart breaks at the amount of fear you held towards him. "reader, you're not fine and we both know it. can.. can i touch you right now?" hyuntak wants to hold you in his arms and let you vent out all your worries but he's scared you'll flinch again.

you nod shakily, scooting over on your bed. hyuntak sits next to you slowly, making sure you're not scared. the tears still haven't stopped and you furiously wipe at them as if that would stop it.

"you're going to hurt yourself, stop it." he says softly and lightly grabs your hands. your face hangs low, too ashamed to face him.

hyuntak gently you into his arms, letting you cry into his chest. he starts rubbing your back soothingly. he doesn't know what happened, but he needs to comfort you first before anything.

"reader, it's okay. i'm here for you,"

taking in what he said, you hold onto his hoodie a little tighter. hyuntak was too good for someone like you. even if it was selfish, you wanted to hold onto him so tight he would never leave.

after minutes of constant reassurance and soothing from hyuntak, you've calmed down to small sniffles and hiccups.

hyuntak takes a breath in before asking, "do you want to talk about it?".

you contemplate it. you guys have been dating for 4 months now, and he still has no idea of minseok. deciding it was time for him to know, you started to tell him about what he was like.

the entire time, hyuntak is listening with rage brewing in his veins. he hugs you more protectively, as if he's shielding you from a ghost of minseok. when you finish speaking, hyuntak swallows carefully.

"he would hit you?" he asks through gritted teeth, "and would do all that while cheating on you?".

you nod slowly into hyuntak's chest, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "i just.. let him. it's my fault," hyuntak shushes you quickly.

"don't ever say that, it's his fault to begin with. he was actively manipulating you, and you still blame yourself?" hyuntak rants, becoming increasingly upset.

he was angry that someone treated you so badly, and how he wasn't able to protect you.

"thank you for telling me reader. i love you so much," hyuntak pulls you away from his chest so you can look at him directly. "please, never forget that. you will always be the most beautiful, strongest girl i know."

your eyes start to water before you know it, but this time it's from happy tears. "i love you too hyuntak, i'm sorry for being so.. insecure," you admit.

hyuntak shakes his head, "never apologize for that," he moves his hands to cup your face and wipe your tears, "whenever you feel like that, i will always be here for you. talk to me, please."

"i will, i promise." it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. knowing that hyuntak will always support you makes you tear up again, but this time from happy tears.

"i love you, hyuntak"

"i love you too, reader."

fin

a/n sorry for the wait! i hope this fits what you wanted <3

#weak hero #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 2 x reader #go hyuntak #go hyuntak x reader #gotak #gotak x reader #weak hero class #hyuntak x reader #hyuntak #weak hero class 2

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months ago

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Bob's love or signs of it weren't loud or grand, it was soft, it was personal and it was sweet and it was within the quiet moments where it was just you and him and nobody else.

They were in the glances he made towards you, making sure you were real and apart of the reality he lives within, just within reach for him to touch you and feel just how alive you were but just far enough away where he didn't have to fear of accidently hurting you. His gaze alone would be enough to tip off anyone that he was in love -or at least close to falling in love-for his eyes softned and his pupils were wide with adoration as if all he ever could want and need was standing right next to him, making him feel more complete and whole then he's ever felt in his entire life.

Like he didn't need anything of materialistic origins when he had you close by, like he was seeing you for the first time and still feeling that immedite falling feeling as he does. Fully knowing that he was doomed to gaze at you like you were his muse and he was the lovesick artist who could never stop writing poems about you, create masterpieces in your imagine for others to also fall in love with you; yet not nearly as more in love with you then Bob himself.

It wasn't a competion becuase Bob would win out against everyone every time without fail, he looked at you as though it was his curse, as if he couldn't get enough of you and needed to intergrate you into his memory daily. yet how could gazing at the person he loved be considered a curse when it's the blessing he's been wanting to have from the moment he laid eyes on you? He needed to see you from even behind his eyelids and know you so vidily that even when blindfolded or rid of all of his memories of you, Bob would still be able to see you, to know you as detailed as he did for he could truly never be rid of you and your influence.

His memories maybe murky but when it came to you? Bob remembered every last thing about you, knowing you like the back of his hand despite himself being inable to remeber things of his own past, he could remember things about you that even you had long forgotten whereas it stuck in his mind like glue. There wasn't a detail that Bob didn't know about you, there was apart of his mind, a apart of him that was made to withold things about you both big and small. He could know your footsteps, your vocal patterns, your habbits -both good and bad- and know your non verbal signs of discomfort and content.

Bob could remember your routine in the morning as he sits on the kitchen island, mentally ticking off the boxes with every seconds that ticks by, until the moment you were stood in the doorway greeting him good morning like you did the previous mornings before now. Your favourite memories and least favourite memories were also intergated within his mind as your intrests, dislikes and things that you were neutral about were also pivotal for Bob to keep close to his heart, as though it would be the biggest diservice to you if he didn't. There wasn't a thing about you that didn't go unnoticed by Bob for everything you did, everything you were was worth every part of his attention and worth him remembering as though he wouldn't be able to withold anymore infomation about you anymore; yet he always does.

It was in the way he would linger in your presence, wanting to stay by you, stand a little closer to you whenever he could as your shoulders brush togeher or hands breeze past knuckles; as though giving you a ghost of a kiss he didn't have the strength to give you without his knees buckling underneath him. It was in the way that Bob would always seem attached to the hip with you as he could be seen over your shoulder, just happy to be within your presence and get to follow you like a lost puppy without being reprimended for his attrocious attatchement to you.

It's in the way where Bob wanted to spend every waking moment with you, whether you were doing something or doing nothing because Bob was just happy that you wanted him near you, especially after everything that happened with the Void. His mind is silent and only focused on you and only you, bathing you in gold and in an ethreal light, a light that was no illusion nor trick of the mind becuase it was his truth of how he viewed you. His mind calms with you, it's silent and peaceful the most it's ever been in a long time, there wasn't a voice in the back of his head that told him how he shoulod view himself nor was there any doubts left to linger within in.

it's all disipates as there's nothing but a light, warm feeling within his mind left, one where he could unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders and allow himself to just live in this moment with you. Bob was allowed to just live as Bob within your presence, to be able to let himself enjoy the moment with you without assuming the worst will happen, to let himself be happy.

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svnscape · 1 month ago

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REFLECTIONS — 𝐧𝐚 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧

i never knew somebody like you, somebody falling just as hard

synopsis — you saw him everywhere. in magazines, social media, billboards, in your own house from the tv of your humble living room, his dazzling looks with that enchanting smile, looking back at you like it’s your own reflection. and you can’t really escape your own reflection, can you? 12 years of confusion, self loathing, pain and suffering and he was still here, making his presence known more than ever, looking back at you like he’s known you’d be back, back with that dark grey cloud suspended over you and his, his melting right with yours because god knows that the shiny smile of his was just a ticking bomb or an hourglass, waiting for your arrival to unleash it all .

pairing: photographer!na jaemin x set director!reader

series warnings: each chapter will have its own cw — death, major character death, substance abuse, verbal abuse, family trauma, self harm, suicide and suicidal thoughts, severe depression and anxiety, low self esteem, aquaphobia, suggestive and mature content, explicit language, explicit scenes, toxic relationships, attachement and abandonment issues, exploitation. everyone is fucked in this series don’t get too attached. the way i invision and write some of the characters is not the way i see them or the way they are in real life, keep that in mind.

status: to be released mid july - august

taglist: reply to be added

series playlist (recommended): reflections — the neighborhood, indigo — sam barber & avery anna, softcore— the neighborhood, doubt (demo) — twenty one pilots, stressed out — twenty one pilots, use me — pvris & 070 shake, bad desire (eng ver) — enhypen, eyelids — pvris, heartbeat — childish gambino, porcelain — faouzia, formula — labrinth, escapism — raye & 070 shake, black mascara — raye, prisoner — yuta, photograph — ed sheeran

REFLECTIONS

— 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 pt1 | pt2

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: “seoul: year 2024”

tba….

author’s note: this series is very dark… i can’t be normal and write something happy i am SORRY. been thinking about writing this for a while now and i’m finally happy that i gathered all my functioning brain cells and put them to use to write this series. i am LOVING writing the chapters and immersing myself into their world. i think this series is a mix of a bunch of lyrics i read, book lines and real life events that have blossomed into whatever this is and unfortunately (or fortunately) jaemin was just the first person i thought of writing this series for. like i said earlier, this is not reality and this is not how i view any of the people mentioned in this story. y/n is also an oc and you can invision her as anyone you’d like.

i hope you enjoy this series as much as i’m enjoying writing it and i hope it brings you whatever you’re looking for when you’re immersing yourself into a fictional universe. as usual, as this is a complex story, my asks and replies are always here for you to write to me whether it’s a question, a feedback or if you want anything more about this series. happy reading ! (you’re gonna need tissues i’m sorry once again)

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kifiles · 16 days ago

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A+ For Effort — Nanami Kento

Paring — Namami Kento x Reader

Synopsis — She tries to take control and fails.

What was supposed to be a surprise role reversal ends in awkwardness and insecurity, and one very sweet, husband gently reminding his wife that she doesn’t have to change a thing to be everything he wants.

A tender, emotionally-charged (and eventually very explicit) story about expectations, vulnerability, and the kind of love that doesn’t waver, even when things don’t go as planned.

UNLIMITED GREEN FLAG NANAMI CONTENT 💚

In Good Hands

(A prologue of sorts. This fic does not require prior reading of the prologue, but if you want to know their backstory, check it out!)

Word Count — 7.2K

⚠️ Content Warnings — (MINORS DNI) This story contains explicit sexual content (18+), including penetrative sex, wrist pinning, rough dominant/submissive dynamics, possessive language, and intense physical intimacy between a married couple. It also includes emotional vulnerability, discussion of birth control and family planning, and moments of insecurity followed by verbal reassurance. Mild alcohol use is briefly mentioned. Please read with discretion if any of these themes are sensitive for you.

Author's Note — Ok this ended up taking wayyy longer than I thought it would, most of that time was writing the smut 😭 (Respect your smut writers y'all, it's not easy). But it's finally done!!

Please let me know what you thought in the comments, feedback is very welcome and appreciated ❤️‍🩹

Happy Reading!!!

— Kicomi 🩷

MASTERLIST

You heard the door unlock at exactly 7:25 p.m.

The sound was as familiar as the ticking of the kitchen clock or the low hum of the stovetop. Routine. Aways precise. Down to the minute.

7:25, every evening.

That was Nanami Kento. Quiet in his habits, steady in his ways. The kind of man who never needed to say he was reliable, his actions and his presence were proof enough.

He stood in the entryway, his coat already halfway off, sleeves rolled up from a long day, tie slightly loosened. Adorning the look of quiet exhaustion, subtle but present. His hair was tousled from running his hands through it, briefcase in one hand, gold wedding ring glinting under the hallway light.

His eyes softened the moment he saw you.

You padded out of the kitchen, apron still tied snug around your waist, the scent of dinner trailing behind you. Your hair bounced lightly with each step, and when you reached the entryway, you greeted him, wearing his favorite accessory.

Your smile.

“There’s my wife,” he said, that low rasp in his voice already lighting a heat under your skin. You loved that voice. The one he used only at home.

You smiled up at him, fingers reaching to smooth down the strands of his hair falling across his forehead. While his hand circled your waist. “Welcome home, Kento.”

He leaned in and kissed you. Soft, at first. Familiar. Lips pressing against yours like punctuation to a long day. Then he deepened it just a little, tongue brushing yours, fingers curling around your waist.

You melted into his chest, breath catching when he pulled back and murmured, “Something smells good.”

“I made Chicken katsu with shredded cabbage,” you said, face warm, “and the lentil soup your mom gave me the recipe for, last dinner. Thought I'd finally take a shot at it.”

“Why don’t you go wash up, hm? Dinner’s almost ready. I’ll have everything served by the time you’re back.”

✮✮✮

They sat across from each other like always, legs brushing under the table, eyes soft, the comfort between them built on routine and affection.

“How was brunch with Mom?” he asked, lazily swirling the red wine you both always shared with dinner before taking a slow sip. His chin rested in his palm, posture relaxed, eyes on you with quiet curiosity, the kind that came when the day was finally behind him and he could just... be.

“She kept asking when we’re giving her grandkids,” you said with a soft laugh, cutting a bite sized price of the chicken.

He chuckled. “Of course she did. And you told her?”

“That I’m still selfishly in my housewife era,” you said with a grin, tilting your head, “and that we’d think about it seriously once you wrap up that overseas project in 6 months, you’ve been drowning in deadlines and late-night calls, so it’s not exactly the best time right now. But mostly the first part.”

“You’re in your spoiled era,” he teased, nudging your foot gently under the table before leaning back with a soft smile. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dinner was cozy. Familiar. You told him about how his mother had complimented your new bracelet, that he had gotten for you a month ago at his last business trip in Geneva. He told you about a new acquisition in Singapore and how the deal had finally gone through after a month straight of negotiations.

“Oh, and,” he said casually between bites, “I booked us a table at Mirabelle next Friday. 8:30.”

Your wine glass paused mid-air. “Anniversary dinner?”

He nodded.

“Since the trip’s not happening anytime soon…”

Anniversaries were usually marked with plane tickets, quiet stays in lake towns or coastal cities, just the two of you. But this huge overseas project had put all that on pause, indefinitely.

You offered him a soft smile. “Mirabelle sounds perfect, Kento.” Then with eyes glinting with amusement, you added “You really know how to romance a woman.”

He glanced over, that quiet look in his eyes again soft, steady, entertained. “Only one I care to.”

“And I figured,” he added, leaning back in his chair, “you’d want to go shopping for an outfit.”

You beamed. “You know me so well.”

His gaze was warm and unwavering, “I take my role as your husband very very seriously.”

✮✮✮

Later, after dishes were done and you’d both showered and curled up under your silken sheets.

You in a soft pink silk nightgown that barely reached mid-thigh, his favorite one, because it was technically modest but clung just enough to drive him mad.

Nanami was already settled in for the night — shirtless, pajama pants low on his hips, reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose as he skimmed through the final email of the day.

You lay beside him, aimlessly scrolling through TikTok, thumb pausing only to impulsively buy a tiny ceramic frog planter you absolutely didn’t need, but needed.

Once he shut the laptop with and put it down a soft thud, he turned to you, voice low and unhurried. “You tired?” he murmured, one leg lazily sliding between yours beneath the sheets.

You turned to set your phone down on the bedside table, then rolled back to face him. “Not really.” You said as you shook your head.

Kento's gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, his fingers brushing along your cheek before his thumb tugged lightly at your bottom lip. His glasses were still perched on his nose, catching the warm bedside light, but his expression had shifted, like the weight of want had finally settled on his face. His head tilted, eyes narrowing slightly, focused, like he’d just made up his mind about exactly what he was going to do to you. And that slight shy smile on your face told him you knew too.

His thumb lingered at your mouth for a second longer before he murmured, voice low and smooth, “You okay with this, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him, your voice quiet but certain. “Yeah.” And that was all he needed.

Kento reached up first, slipping his glasses off with one hand and setting them on the nightstand without taking his eyes off you. Then he leaned in, shifting until your back hit the mattress, his body covering yours, pinning your wrists to the sheets with ease in one fluid motion. His other hand slid around the side of your neck as he kissed you — hard. There was no hesitation. His tongue pushed into your mouth like it belonged there, like he was reminding you exactly who you belonged to. It was messy, deep, and hungry. All heat and possession.

His dominance was effortless. Not performative. It was who he was. At work, in life, in bed. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t bark orders. He simply commanded.

And you loved every second of it.

His hand stayed curled around your neck, thumb tilting your chin up as he deepened the kiss, if that was even possible. You gasped into his mouth when his knee pressed between your legs, forcing them apart. A soft, desperate sound that had him grinning against your lips.

He leaned back just enough to look at you properly, eyes sweeping over your flushed face, the curve of your breasts under the silk, your thighs rubbing together like you couldn’t help it.

His hand slid down your neck, over your chest, pausing at the swell of your breast beneath the thin silk. His palm flattened there, thumb brushing lazily over your nipple, already hard beneath the fabric.

His mouth was already on your collarbone, lingering there and leaving light kisses in his wake. Then you felt his teeth, tugging your nightgown strap off your shoulder, slow and deliberate. His lips followed right after, warm and open as they trailed down your, now, fully exposed neck. You couldn’t help but arch into him, breath catching when he sank his teeth gently in the spot just below your ear, Then he sucked the same spot, hard enough to leave a mark.

Kento sat up just enough to tug your nightgown down your chest, exposing your breasts to the cool air and to the weight of his stare. His eyes lingered for a moment before he dipped his head, mouth closing around one nipple. He sucked slow, firm, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin while his free hand moved to your other breast. The same hand that had been pinning yours to the sheets now tugged and twisted at the other bud, rough and steady.

Your back arched off the bed, one hand flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, and tugging on it. He groaned into your skin, the sound vibrating through your chest, making your thighs clench around his waist. You felt how hard he already was, the thick press of him against your inner thigh, still caged behind the cotton of his pajama pants.

He kept his hand firm on your stomach to keep you still while his mouth descended, slow but filthy.

Kento kissed down your stomach, taking the silk along with. Letting his tongue drag slowly over your navel, his hands sliding beneath your ass to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. His voice dropped lower, almost with an edge to it, “Been thinkin’ about this all fucking day.”

Your thighs trembled when he spread them. He pushed your nightgown down your legs and along with your panties one smooth motion, leaving you bare for his eyes only. His grip was firm, near bruising, as he pinned your knees wide apart. His head dipped, tongue flattening and dragging up your folds in one deep, slow stroke.

You cried out, back arching violently off the bed as he groaned into you.

He was so messy and wet with it. Tongue and lips sucking hard on your clit as you made the prettiest sounds for him, one had gripping the sheets while the other pulled his hair. His arms hooked around your thighs, locking you in place, not letting you close your legs even an inch. You were shaking before he even slipped a finger in.

One thick finger, then two, pressing in deep, curling right against that spot that had you gasping, squirming but his mouth didn’t stop. He groaned every time you clenched around his fingers like it turned him on more than anything.

“Squeeze me like that again,” he grunted into your cunt.

You broke on his tongue. Loud and messy, your back arched off the bed almost in a sitting position. But he didn’t stop, not even after the orgasm ripped through you like fire. He kept eating you like he needed it to breathe, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered.

By the time he finally pulled back, lips shiny with you, eyes blown dark with lust, you were panting and your chest heaving.

He sat back on his knees just long enough to tug his pajama pants down his hips, cock heavy and hard against his stomach, already leaking. The familiar sight made your breath hitch, thighs instinctively trying to press together but his hand was there, keeping you from it.

He leaned over you again, fisting his cock once, dragging it through your soaked folds with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk, from the orgasm right before.

You were trying to grind up against him, but he slapped your thigh. “Stay still.” Making you whimpered in a low voice.

Then without warning, he pushed in.

Your gasp broke into a strangled moan, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out in one long, hard thrust.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his forehead pressed to yours, chest heaving. His cock stretched you open so perfectly, so full, you could feel every inch of him pressing against your walls. Your legs tried to wrap around his waist instinctively, but he grabbed one thigh and shoved it back down to the bed, holding you wide.

“You take me so well every time,” he groaned, hips pulling back just enough to slam forward again, deep and mean. “Like you were fucking made for me.”

You sobbed something incoherent, clutching at his biceps, nails digging into his skin. Every thrust was rough, perfectly timed, angled to hit that spot that had your eyes rolling back. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, your wetness obscene as he dragged out and slammed back in again and again. Filthy and raw.

He bent lower, one arm sliding under your lower back, lifting your hips off the bed so he could get deeper. And he did, the next thrust punched a cry out of you.

“Kento—fuck—!”

He just grunted in response, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his temple as he fucked into you.

His hand found your throat, not squeezing, just holding, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you.

“You like that?” he rasped. “My perfect little wife—”

“Yes,” you gasped, back arching as your orgasm built again, fast and blinding. “Kento, please—please, I’m close—”

“Touch yourself,” he groaned. “Rub your clit for me, baby.”

Your fingers reached between your thighs, circling your swollen bud like he taught you, gasping louder with every thrust.

“That’s it...,” he praised, hips stuttering as he got close. “Gonna come for me?”

“Y-Yes, I’m—I’m—!”

Your orgasm hit you like lightning. Your entire body shuddering under him as you clenched hard around his cock.

Kento groaned, both hands now gripping your hips. “Fuck—that’s it, good fucking girl—”

He kissing you hard before adjusting thrusts to be slower and messier, until his own orgasm spilled deep inside you.

He didn’t pull out.

Just collapsed on top of you, lips pressed to your shoulder, bodies sweaty and tangled.

After a long silence, of you both catching your breaths, he whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby.”

You blinked through the haze, half-laughing. “It’s not for another week.”

“I know. But you’re mine every night. Might as well celebrate early.”

You giggled, still panting. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned into your neck. “Only for my wife.”

After a few more breaths and little kisses. He cleaned himself up, got dressed and left the bed for warm towels.

He cleaned her gently, lifting her hips with practiced ease, murmuring soft apologies every time she flinched from sensitivity.

Once she was clean, he helped her into her nightgown again, carried her to the bathroom to help her pee, and brought her a water to drink along with with two squares of dark chocolate and her favorite strawberry lip balm he knew she always reached for before bed.

They curled into bed again, her face tucked into his chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her arm.

“You were perfect,” he said with a forehead kiss.

She smiled sleepily, too tired to respond.

He kissed her one last time and whispered, “Happy almost anniversary, sweetheart. I can’t wait to celebrate everything we’ve built together.”

✮✮✮

Monday came with sun-drenched skies, soft jazz on the car stereo, and the promise of retail therapy.

You were wearing your favorite blue watercolor mini dress, a floaty, ruffled piece with soft blue and grey tones that was also slightly floral. It cinched just right at the waist, flowed around your legs like petals. Pair that with your white heels, soft curls, and a subtle glossy lip, and you looked ready to shop.

The shopping trip was meant to be simple — pick out a new dress for your upcoming anniversary dinner, maybe look for a few new releases accessories. Instead, it evolved into a full afternoon affair with your three closest friends: Lucy, Charlotte, and Ellie.

All of them were born and married into wealth and status, each with their own version of "perfect."

Lucy was the first to become a mom to two wild but adorable boys, aged five and two. She was effortlessly charismatic and she always had the last word.

Charlotte ran the NGO where you volunteered twice a month. Passionate and blunt to a fault, she never held back from what was on her mind but her heart was always in the right place.

Ellie was the youngest, a year younger than you and had recently gotten married, still in that post honeymoon bliss, who was still in that “every surface is an opportunity” phase of marriage. British, with a dry wit and that effortless charm only she seemed to have.

You stood in front of the boutique’s full-length mirror, smoothing the rich velvet of the deep red dress over your waist.

The structured bodice hugged your torso perfectly, cinching you in just right before flaring out into a full, romantic skirt that skimmed your calves. The square neckline framed your chest and collarbones elegantly, striking a balance between classic and bold. It felt regal and timeless at the same time, with just enough drama.

You turned slowly, watching the skirt sway with weight and grace.

Perfect for an anniversary dinner. You don't wear this colour often, mostly feeling comfortable in a light colour palette but a special occasion called for a special dress and it was perfect.

You stepped out of the changing room to show your friends your final pick after trying on 3 other dresses, to get their opinions on it. They were sprawled across the velvet couch by the fitting room, iced lattes in hand, watching you like hawks.

Charlotte let out a low whistle. “Jesus. If you don’t buy that, I will. That color is gorgeous and you look ethereal.”

Lucy leaned forward, chin in hand. “You’re actually insane if you even try on anything else after this. This is the one.”

Ellie nodded her head in agreement ,wide-eyed. “It’s so… elegant. But kind of sexy, too? Perfect.”

You laughed under your breath, smoothing the skirt again. Feeling shy under their compliments. “I’m getting it,” you said, the decision being so easy.

All three of them cheered.

✮✮✮

As salads arrived and drinks were topped off, the conversation — predictably, steered toward sex.

It always did.

It started harmlessly. Ellie made a passing joke about having to sneak around her house now that her in-laws had moved in temporarily, because their villa in Lake Como is getting completely remodeled and apparently the penthouse they usually use in Mayfair has a mold issue,” she said with an eye-roll and how she and her husband were still able to “break in the guest bathroom” last week. Lucy laughed and raised a toast to sneaking around. Her due to “Curious toddlers” and also how quickies in laundry rooms was the new normal for her. While Charlotte launched into a smug story about how she’d recently taken charge in the bedroom, again. But this time with all the tools — handcuffs, silk blindfold, the whole thing and how her husband “looked at me like I’d just rewritten the Bible,” she said, swirling her drink with a grin. “Said he didn’t know whether to pray or beg.”

You smiled, nodded along politely, but didn’t add much. You rarely did. Not because you weren’t happy or content. You were. But because you’d always believed sex belonged in the quiet privacy, not aired out over mid-day rosé and overpriced burrata. Maybe you were a bit of a prude.

But then Lucy turned to you.

“What about you, Y/N?” she asked, eyebrow raised, smirk tugging at her glossed lips. “When was the last time you flipped the script and took control?”

You blinked, you were rarely ever included in these conversations unless to ask for you opinion on a situation where one of the girls needed advice or on basic stuff. “Oh—I don’t… I don’t think I ever have, really.”

Ellie’s eyes widened like you’d just told her you’d never had chocolate. “Wait. Like… never ever?”

You squirmed in your seat a little, cheeks heating. “Well, Kento was my first. And… it’s just always been that way. He takes the lead. That’s just how it’s always been.”

Charlotte paused mid-sip, lips quirking. “And you’ve never tried anything different? Not even once?”

You hesitated. “No, not really. I mean… we do try different things, positions, a few kinks here and there. And we’ve done it in different places too like the balcony when we’re on trips, the car once or twice during late-night drives, even the kitchen counter a few times...but…” You glanced down, heat creeping up your neck. “I guess… taking the lead never really crossed my mind?”

Lucy tilted her head, the amusement in her gaze softening. “Y/N, honey. You’re gorgeous, smart, devoted, sweet but you don’t think it gets boring for them if we just stay predictable forever?”

Charlotte leaned in, swirling her drink slowly. “Men like surprises, Y/N. And hey, maybe you are naturally the submissive type, which is completely fine, by the way, but how would you really know, if you’ve never tried it the other way around? A little unpredictability goes a long way. Sometimes, taking control just makes them want you more.”

Ellie chimed in with a teasing grin, “And it doesn’t have to be the full fifty-shades toolkit Charlotte busted out,” she said, shooting a playful jab at Charlotte, who just raised her brow in mock offense. “The last time I pushed my husband down and rode him at my pace? He brought me breakfast in bed every day that week. And offered to do the grocery run without complaining.”

The table erupted into laughter, but your fingers tightened slightly around your wine glass.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel desired. Kento never gave you a reason to doubt his devotion, especially in bed. He made you feel safe. Loved. Treasured.

But… was that enough?

That stayed with you the rest of lunch. Through dessert. Through idle chatter about spa dates and school admissions and where to find good truffle oil.

The seed had been planted.

And it grew. All the way home.

By the time Kento came home that evening, the thought had become a quiet thrum under your skin. A pulse of what ifs in your chest.

What if Kento just… never said anything because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings?

What if you were losing him slowly without realizing it?

What if you could surprise him?

What if you could be the unexpected?

What if he liked it?

What if he loved it?

✮✮✮

That night, when you were alone in your vanity room, looking at yourself in the mirror, your reflection felt… different.

You weren’t ever in control. You were always the sweet one. The one who let him lead.

You reached for your phone and typed “how to take control in bed as a woman” into the search bar.

Your screen filled with articles, tips, positions, tones of voice. You even clicked on a few… videos.

It all looked so natural when they did it. Confident. Sexy. Effortless.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

You’d try.

For him.

For you.

Even if your chest already ached with anxiety.

✮✮✮

The Night of the Anniversary Dinner arrived with much nerves and anticipation for you.

The entire day had been magical for the both of you. Kento had taken the day off to make the most out of the day.

You woke up to your usual anniversary tradition of exchanging handwritten letters, folded neatly and waiting to be opened. You both put a lot of efforts in your letters sometimes taking weeks to find the perfect words to reflect on another year you got to spend as soulmates and what it meant to the each of you. It was something the two of you had done every year without fail, ever since your first anniversary.

The idea had come from him, two weeks before the first one, he’d quietly brought it up just before falling asleep one night. He told you how his parents used to write each other letters every year, and how it was one of the few things he always wanted to carry into his own marriage. So you did. And you kept doing it. And somehow, every letter felt like falling in love with him all over again.

Alongside your letter, like always, came a massive bouquet of flowers, delivered early that morning.

In return, one of the gifts you gave him was deeply personal: a custom vinyl record with a curated playlist of songs that reminded you of him and of your marriage together.

The record was titled “Us.”

On the back, you’d written:

“A soundtrack to everything I’ve never had the words to say.”

Later in the day, after the bliss of spending the day reminiscing and reading you respective letters through tears and laughs together, before leaving for your dinner reservation, you shared your other gifts.

You handed him a pair of framed custom star maps, one showing the stars on the day you first met, and the other capturing the stars, the day of your wedding. Attached was a handwritten note:

“Even the stars remember.”

He stared at them for a long moment, quiet, his fingers brushing over the constellations like he was memorizing them. Then he looked at you, soft, full of something that words couldn’t hold and leaned in to pepper your face with gentle kisses.

“I love them,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to hang these in my office.”

He’d always said that space felt incomplete—too quiet, too cold without you. “Where I miss you the most,” he’d once confessed.

Now, at least he could look up and be reminded that even the stars knew your story.

And tucked underneath, a small envelope.

Inside was a joke gift: a handwritten voucher for “Unlimited Shoulder Massages,” complete with overly formal fine print that read: “Valid forever. No expiry. Even during arguments and silent treatments.”

He laughed, and tucked the voucher safely in his wallet, and gave you his gift next.

Your gift was a set of rare, first edition copies of three of your favorite classic novels. Books you’d only mentioned once or twice in passing, thinking it was a dream too impractical to chase. But he’d remembered. And waited. And now, placed them in your hands.

You smiled, a little overwhelmed, and said quietly, “Thank you… this means more than you know.” As you stood up on your tip toes to pull him into a kiss to convey something words couldn't.

✮✮✮

The restaurant was candlelit, romantic, tucked in the quiet corner of the city with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the skyline like a painting.

Mirabelle didn’t believe in menus. The chef curated every dish, every wine pairing, tailored down to preference and season. The food was exquisite. Scallops with lemon butter foam, duck breast over truffle risotto, a champagne sorbet to cleanse the palate. But none of it compared to the man seated across from you.

Kento looked stunning in black. A fitted dress shirt, top button undone, with a black, sleek coat on top. His hair slicked back just enough, a few strands falling loose like they always did. His watch glinted under the low light. But it was his eyes that you felt the most, the way they didn’t leave you all night.

You had worn the velvet red dress and it's effects were instantaneous.

Since he has seen you in it the first time, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you. Hand on your lower back, constantly pulling you into kisses, finding ways to just keep touching you. His voice stayed low, like he couldn’t bear to speak too loudly around you.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured after the main course, his hand warm on your knee. “No, actually, stunning. Infact words don't even do you justice right now, non of them will ever be enough.”

Your lips parted in a shy smile, cheeks warming. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Nanami.”

✮✮✮

The anniversary dinner was perfect.

Too perfect, almost, which only made you worry more as you came to the realisation of what you had decided for tonight.

You made out like teenagers on the way back home. Both sat in the backseat as he had drunk a little more than he had originally planned to, and he had never taken any chances if the topic was about your safety. Kento had put up the divider in the car to spare your driver as he pulled you into his lap in the backseat of the car, mouth warm, tongue teasing, his hand sliding under your dress.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all day,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough as he pressed heated kisses along your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys behind, his hand trailing higher on your thigh.

You giggled, pushed his chest gently. “Not yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. “No?”

“Not yet,” you whispered again, cheeks flushing. “I—I have a surprise. You are gonna have to wait for it till we get home. ”

He looked ...curious. Then nodded. “Okay, baby.” Because who was he to go against his wife's wishes.

✮✮✮

As soon as you got home, you rushed to the vanity room, slipped into the black lace lingerie set with a matching sheer babydoll dress, not even reaching your mid-thigh, over it the set. Black was not really a colour a you wore often, since it had always been too dark for you, ironic because your husband was the exact opposite of you in this metric. His entire closet was black, save for a few items. But you choose it because your friends and the internet said that it radiates confidence and is sexy, and was supposed to signify you embracing your dark femininty as Ellie put it (whatever that means). And lord knows you needed all the help you could get in terms of confidence.

It took a few steadying breaths, a pep talk to yourself in the mirror and reminding yourself all that you had learnt from your friends and the internet. You slowly made your way down the hall, towards your bedroom, towards your husband. Each step had your heart thudding so loud it drowned out your thoughts.

Nanami was already on the laying on bed when she stepped in. Shirt gone, hair slightly messy, just relaxed, like he belonged there. He appeared to be passing the time looking at the framed pictures you had all throughout the room, being as patient as ever, waiting for your surprise.

When he heard you walking in, his eyes did darken. His lips parted slightly. A good start, right?

“You look…” He exhaled. “Fuck. Come here.”

But you didn’t listen to him right away.

You tried, really tried, to walk slowly. Seductively. Like you'd seen online. Like Charlotte told you.

You climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him, shakily, trying to look confident. Trying to look like the kind of woman who could say “I’m in charge tonight” and make it believable.

“Kento,” you said softly, straddling his lap, looking down at him, “Tonight… I wanna take control.” It didn't even sound believable to your ears let alone his, how where you planning on going through with this act the entire night.

He blinked once.

Then… smiled.

But not mockingly. He would never mock you. Just amused. Fond.

“Oh?” he said, clearly surprised by the new development and holding back a chuckle. “Go ahead, sweetheart. I am all yours.”

You swallowed.

You leaned in and tried to kiss him roughly, just like he would do to you, but missed his mouth. Your teeth clinked awkwardly. You giggled nervously, then quickly shut up. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “Let me try again.”

Nanami just watched you, still smiling, trying to encourage you.

You pressed your hands to his chest and gently pushed him back onto the mattress, to put on weight on him.

“Tonight,” you whispered, just slightly moving your hips a little to create even an ounce of friction between your bodies, “you’ll do what I say.”

You tried to lower yourself onto him, but your hand slipped awkwardly between you.

You froze.

Kento raised an eyebrow seeing you frown, “Everything okay?”

You forced a fake sexy tone. “Yes. I just—” You tried again. “Stay still.”

He did stay still — obediently. Watching. Letting you try.

But you weren’t feeling sexy anymore. Your rhythm was off. Your voice shook. You couldn’t keep the act going. Every time you tried to say something dirty, it came out weird. Cringe. Like you were reciting lines from a play that didn’t suit your character.

Still, you tried. You kissed his jaw. Traced your fingers down his abs. Reached for his belt.

But when you looked up, his eyes… they weren’t dark with lust. They were soft. Fond. Patient.

It was clear he loved you but was definitely not turned on right now.

It broke something in you. Because neither of you were enjoying this. You hated this persona and it just felt wrong.

You pushed yourself up, getting of his body, sitting back on your knees, only to curl into yourself, as if to hide.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “Kento,” you said softly, voice wobbling. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He sat up immediately. “No baby, don't get discour—”

“I just thought—” Your eyes watered. “I just wanted to… give you something new. Something exciting. Because I know I’m not— I’m not like other women. And it’s always you who… who takes care of everything. Maybe you’re tired of that. Maybe you want something else and just won’t say it and I— I just thought for once—”

You couldn’t finish.

The tears came fast and messy.

“I ruined our night, didn’t I?” you whispered, fists curled in the sheets. “I can’t even do this right.”

Nanami didn’t hesitate.

He moved toward you and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you, kissing the top of your head.

“Stop,” he said gently. “Stop that right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I feel so stupi—”

“You’re not stupid.” He pulled your face up to look at him, as he gently tried to wipe you tears. “You’re you. And I fucking love you exactly like this. I mean can you believe it? I get to call you mine everyday. I get to have you in a way no-one else ever will. I mean how did I get so so lucky!?”

You hiccuped. “But I thought maybe you wanted something else. Lucy, Charlotte and Ellie, all said that—”

He tensed, just slightly, then softened, letting out a quiet breath as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“They mean well,” he said gently. “They’ve got their own lives… their own experiences, their own ideas of what relationships should look like. And that’s okay. But we have our own rhythm too. One that works for us.”

He tilted your chin up, eyes searching yours.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks, “You’ve never had to perform for me. The way you look at me? The way you touch me? The way you smile when I get home?” He kissed your wrist. “That’s what makes me hard. That’s what makes me crazy. I don’t need you to act like someone else to keep my attention.”

You whispered, still a little teary, “But what if I get boring? What if one day—”

“Never.”

He said it so firmly it startled you.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, grounding you.

“You are more than enough. Every version of you. Especially the one sitting in front of me right now, trying so hard to make me feel loved when all I’ve ever wanted… is you, just as you are. You are the best thing in my life. The only person who has ever made me want to come home early.” He cupped your face. “Our sex life is amazing because it’s ours. I love being in charge. You love letting me be. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

You had calmed down enough to stop crying now. Nanami Kento always knew how to comfort and take care of his wife.

“But what if I want to try again sometime?” you asked in a small voice. He smiled. “Then we’ll try it together. Not because you think I’ll leave if you don’t. But because you’re curious. And safe. And we’ll laugh if it doesn’t go perfectly. Like now.”

You let out a watery laugh.

He leaned forward and kissed you. Slow and reverent.

“Don’t ever think you have to change to keep me,” he whispered against your lips. “You already have me. Entirely.”

“That was so cheesy!” You giggled out.

“It's true too, baby.” He replied.

You melted into his arms, nose buried in his neck.

“I love you. Thank you for being the bestest husband in the world.” you mumbled.

“The bestest, huh?” he echoed, voice warm and low. “That’s a serious title.”

You nodded as he leaned down to press a kiss to your hair.

“Well… I guess that makes you the bestest wife. So we’re even.”

You felt his lips curl into a grin against your temple as he added softly, “Lucky me.”

After a while of you just laying on top of him, cuddling. He started kissing you again, this time slower, just to feel you, to press that truth into your lips. He laid you down with care, his eyes never leaving yours, as if making sure you were still fully with him.

"You okay now?" he asked softly from above, thumbs brushing your cheeks. His own way of asking if you were still okay with the idea to sex tonight, or was today too emotionally taxing on you.

You nodded, looking up at him and whispered, "Yes, please."

“You always think of me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and warm, like it was meant only for you. His hands slid over your thighs, slow and sure, parting them with care. “You give so much without ever asking for anything back… You have no idea how much that means to me. And how sexy that is.”

His hands moved over your sides, tugging at the sheer black babydoll that had originally began this entire misadventure. He eased it over your head and off your arms, before tossing it to the floor. Next came off your panties. Then he kissed down your neck, his lips warm and reverent.

You whimpered, a different kind of emotion blooming in your chest now — hot, overwhelming affection, the kind that burned behind your ribcage and melted into the way your legs instinctively wrapped.

He kissed you again, deep and lingering, before pulling back just far enough to whisper, "Let me show you how much I love you."

His cock was already hard, flushed and throbbing with need, but neither of you reached for foreplay. You were past it at this point, too full of want, too full of each other. You just needed him body, heart, soul and everything in between, same for him. He removed his pants and underwear in one smooth motion and dragged the tip slowly through your soaked folds, collecting your arousal as he lined himself up. Your thighs twitched beneath his grip, helpless against the way even his teasing touch made your body ache.

He pressed the head in just slightly, and slid in with one slow, perfect stroke.

The stretch was so familiar, so full, so utterly him that it took your breath away. You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, back arching beneath him as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a beat, letting you adjust, forehead pressed to yours as he breathed out a soft curse.

"You feel like heaven," he murmured. "Fucking made for me."

You whimpered his name, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

His pace started slow, methodical, letting you feel every inch of him. But that only lasted a few thrusts. Soon, he was fucking you just like he always did —rough, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Like he never would.

He held your wrists, pinned them above your head, his body moving over yours in long, powerful thrusts. The sound of skin slapping, your moans, his low groans, filled the room like music.

"You’re mine," he growled into your neck. "Every inch. Every sound. Every fucking breath you take."

"Yes," you gasped. "Kento, I’m yours—always—"

He pressed harder into you, angling his hips so every thrust hit that sweet, perfect spot. You cried out, hips rising to meet him, your legs wrapping around him tighter.

His mouth found your throat, then your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin like he needed the evidence of this moment on you, painted across you.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, fast and brutal. It slammed into you with a force that had your thighs trembling and your eyes rolling back. You screamed his name, nails scratching all across his back. Your body shaking under him as you came hard around his cock.

"Fuck—fuck, that’s it, baby," he groaned, his rhythm faltering.

He gritted his teeth and fucked you through it until he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a rough grunt, he buried himself deep and came hard, hips jerking as he filled you. His whole body shuddered as he collapsed against you, burying his face in your neck.

They stayed tangled like that, skin to skin, breath to breath.

After a long silence, he finally murmured against your collarbone, "Happy Aniversary Baby, it was perfect."

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. "Because you love me."

"More than anything," he said, pulling back to kiss your forehead. "And I always will."

✮✮✮

7 months later

The sunday morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, golden and lazy, spilling across the breakfast table where you sat in an oversized t-shirt, legs folded beneath you, a mug of warm tea between your hands, having no plans for today.

Nanami stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, making your favorite eggs just the way you liked them. You'd insisted you could do it, but he just kissed your forehead and shooed you away.

He glanced back at you now, brow slightly raised, remembering something, “Did you call your OB?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “I did. I’m officially starting the process. It’ll take a little while for my body to adjust, but… we’re doing it.”

His eyes softened, jaw relaxing as he stepped closer, he put down your plates on the table, wiping his hands before cupping your face gently.

“You sure?” he asked quietly, thumb brushing along your cheek. “We can wait longer if you’re not—”

“I’m ready,” you said, leaning into him. “We’ve had our five years. More than five, actually if you count our pre wedding period. We’ve done the late-night takeout dates, the spontaneous weekend trips, the lazy Sunday mornings. I got to be selfish with you, but now I want this. I wanna have a baby with you.”

He exhaled, forehead pressed to yours now, a kind of silent gratitude passing between you.

“I can’t wait to meet the little version of us,” he whispered.

You laughed. “God, I hope they get your brain and patience.”

“I hope they get your heart,” he murmured back. “And maybe your smile.”

He kissed you then, slow and tender, like every version of your life had been leading to this moment. And it had.

There was no rush, no pressure. Just quiet readiness. A home filled with love. And now, the space to grow it.

Together.

Author's Note (pt 2) - Hope you liked it <3

Editing this to make it readable was a lifetime and a half, hopefully everyone waiting for this is pleased.

I am open to receiving constructive criticism as long as you are nice about it and just any reviews in general, would be really helpful <3

Let me know if I missed any content warnings.

Thankx for reading 🩷

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angel-z-xdx · 7 months ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW Alphabet

A - Aftercare: Ghost might surprise you with his tenderness after intimacy. Though he’s stoic and reserved, he ensures you’re comfortable, offering a soft touch or a quiet reassurance. He’s not overly verbal, but his actions speak volumes—a warm towel, water, or holding you close in his arms.

B - Body: Simon’s body is a canvas of scars, each telling a story of battles fought and survived. He’s strong and imposing, yet he’s self-conscious about his scars. Hearing you admire or cherish his physique helps him see himself through your eyes.

C - Confidence: Ghost is confident but not cocky. He knows his strengths and brings an unshakable calm to intimacy. His quiet assurance can make anyone feel safe and desired, though he’s more focused on his partner’s pleasure than his own.

D - Dom/Sub: Simon’s natural dominance is evident, but it’s never overbearing. He thrives on being in control, but he’s attuned to his partner’s needs, ensuring mutual satisfaction. If he trusts you deeply, he’s open to letting go occasionally.

E - Experience: Years in the military haven’t left him much time for relationships, but his maturity and attention to detail make him an attentive lover. He’s learned to read people well and adapts effortlessly to what his partner wants.

F - Favorite Position: Ghost prefers positions that allow for intimacy and connection, like missionary or spooning, where he can see or feel you close. He’s also a fan of standing positions—a practical choice for his strong physique and intense moments.

G - Goofy: Simon has a dry sense of humor, and while he’s serious in most aspects, he might throw in a sly quip to lighten the mood. He values the comfort of his partner, even if it means cracking a rare joke.

H - Hair: His short, regulation haircut is practical, but his facial hair is another story. He’s aware of its appeal and might let you tug on it playfully during heated moments. He secretly loves the attention.

I - Intimacy: Intimacy with Ghost is layered. He struggles to open up emotionally but craves a deep connection. When he lets his guard down, he’s intensely devoted, treating every moment as significant and meaningful.

J - Jealousy: Simon is not outwardly jealous but fiercely protective. He’ll observe from the shadows, ensuring no one crosses boundaries with you. His quiet possessiveness manifests in subtle gestures, like keeping a hand on your lower back in public.

K - Kinks: Ghost’s kinks lean toward dominance and control. He enjoys restraint, whether it’s physical or situational, and takes pleasure in heightening his partner’s anticipation. He’s also partial to praise and enjoys hearing his partner’s appreciation.

L - Location: Simon prefers privacy and safety, valuing control over the environment. A quiet bedroom or secluded space is his comfort zone, though he’s adaptable if the moment calls for spontaneity.

M - Mood: Ghost’s mood during intimacy is intense and focused. He’s not one for casual flings; when he’s with someone, it’s deliberate and passionate. His energy can shift from tender to commanding, depending on the dynamic.

N - Noise: Simon is relatively quiet, but his low grunts and occasional whispers are intoxicating. When he speaks during intimacy, it’s deliberate and laced with an irresistible edge.

O - Oral: Ghost is thorough and meticulous. When he’s giving, he’s entirely focused on his partner’s pleasure, taking time to learn what makes you tick. Receiving is less important to him, but he’ll let you take the lead if it pleases you.

P - Pace: Simon’s pace is controlled and intentional. He’s not one to rush, preferring to savor every moment. He can adjust depending on the situation, from slow and sensual to fervent and intense.

Q - Quickies: While he prefers meaningful encounters, Simon understands the demands of time and circumstance. He’s efficient and attentive during quickies, ensuring you’re as satisfied as possible.

R - Risk: Ghost is cautious and values safety above all else, but he’s not averse to calculated risks. If it strengthens your bond or adds excitement, he’ll consider stepping out of his comfort zone.

S - Stamina: Years of training and discipline have given Ghost impressive stamina. He can go for extended periods, ensuring his partner’s satisfaction before considering his own. He’s in it for the long haul.

T - Toys: Simon isn’t opposed to incorporating toys but prefers to rely on his skills first. If his partner expresses interest, he’s open-minded and eager to explore together.

U - Unpredictable: Ghost’s reserved nature makes his rare spontaneous moments thrilling. Whether it’s an unexpected kiss or a sudden shift in intensity, he keeps you on your toes.

V - Vulnerability: Opening up is a challenge for Simon, but with the right partner, he’ll let his walls down. His vulnerability is most evident in quiet moments, where his actions convey the emotions he struggles to put into words.

W - Wildcard: Despite his stoic demeanor, Simon has a surprising romantic streak. He’ll plan intimate moments, like lighting candles or bringing you small, thoughtful gifts to show his affection.

X - X-Ray (Physical): Simon’s body is as strong as his presence, with broad shoulders, a muscular build, and scars that tell a story of resilience. He’s well aware of his physical appeal but values connection over appearance.

Y - Yearning: Ghost’s yearning runs deep. He’s a man who’s lived through loss and pain, making him crave genuine connection. When he finds someone he trusts, his passion is unwavering.

Z - Zest: Though his life is defined by discipline and danger, Simon brings an unexpected zest to intimacy. His dedication to his partner’s pleasure and his rare moments of levity make every encounter unforgettable.

#cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #cod smut #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost cod #ghost smut

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keferon · 5 months ago

Note

Getting lost (part 2/?)!!

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The humans were really weird today, they had treated him to a meal in addition to the frozen fish he got every day, and he had done nothing! His pool was closed to the public, which only happened when he had a medical appointment and he hated them. The feeling of apprehension clouded his thoughts, it steamed in his belly, resonated in his heart before intruding into his flesh and bones, filling his being with a tugging, a curious desire to search, to understand. With this thick cloud blocking his little world of thoughts and the many staff members circling around his waters, he only wanted one thing: answers.

He would have asked, he COULD have asked, but humans didn't like that. He often tried to talk to them, but the more words came out of his mouth, when his language went beyond simple things like "eat" and "hello", their gaze withered, in the same way that an overwatered flower would have done. The truth brushed the veil of their thoughts before being quickly rejected for coos of joy and excitement at the new words that the orca had learned. And they couldn't really hear him anyway, people he recognized as veterinarians thanks to their green outfits were standing behind the glass of his indoor aquarium and not on the platform they normally used above the water. It felt more like a check-up than a real intervention and he thanked all the deities he knew for that! But no verbal interaction for him.

That still didn't explain why his part of the aquarium was closed. The keepers liked to do their check-ups in public, and honestly it, reassured him not to be alone during them. Being alone made him feel empty, there was nothing to do, nothing to say....just him and himself. He loathed when his body became numb from inactivity, when even his emotions mixed in the melancholy of his thoughts to become nothing but noise without purpose or words. He knew that the more the days passed, the more the little world he tried to keep in a corner of his head crumbled and that one day it would end up collapsing. That day, he will have gotten lost deep enough to never get out again, and there are days when he wonders if he would do better to swim faster to the bottom, to stop the internal bomb that was sleeping inside him, to let the ticking of the clock stop for good and to finally be at peace.

Little taps on the surface brought him out of thoughts he didn't want to have, that he tried as best he could to hide. It was his signal, maybe everything wasn't completely different today? Without hesitation he gave a simple tail swipe that propelled him without any real force towards the air. It was much too hot for his taste, one of the big disadvantages of summer, which made him think that they hadn't provided him with any enrichment with ice recently, maybe they didn't have enough for the whole park? His gaze fell on his regular keeper, Brice, who gave him a gentle pat on the top of his head between his ears.

"Hi buddy"

He cooed before throwing him a fish from a basin placed next to him. Jazz caught it on the fly, creating waves under his weight that soaked the keeper from head to toe, making him laugh. He liked to make people laugh, he was good at it, and he knew that the more he did it, the more humans would come and the less alone he would be. While eating his meal (they were really generous today), he saw Brice talking to the veterinarians who had been behind the window a few moments earlier but also to other people he didn't recognize, inspectors perhaps? In any case, their conversation was clear, even if the humans, as usual, didn't suspect that he was listening.

"Are we sure that the procedure is possible?

- One hundred percent, Jazz is completely docile and has no wounds that could be infected by a mystery disease from the other.

- The new mer is clearly not docile, he has been trying to escape since he woke up. I recommend a gentle approach, a quick first contact so that they assimilate each other."

The orca's ears perked up and his food froze in his throat. A new mer? Here?? He seemed to pause in his rapid descent into the heart of his mind, a pause in the chaos as the numbers of the bomb stopped decreasing, all to listen, to confirm the growing feeling in his chest. Hope? Fear? Stress or just pure denial that something like this could happen? In his head, a new melody began to write itself.

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-🦇🐧

Part 2 is less poetic, I didn't have the strenght for it🥲 hope you still like it!

OOOOOOOOOAAAHHHHH I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH DKLDNFKELNDHFKF

#oh no a new mer #IF ONLY HE KNEW WHO COULD THAT BE EH #Oh man ahahhfjkgkt I'm so excited >:D #apocalyptic ponyo #jazz #almost tagged Prowl but he isn't exactly there heh #ponyo jp writing #...funny story my friend sow my “recently used emojis” from behind my shoulder and went #the fuck you use these for??#oh you know. so I can keep an archive system of different fanfic writers #🦇🐧#lol

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stellaspectral · 1 month ago

Note

Hello again! Your work is just amazing , couldn’t help throw in a second wee request I hope that’s okay!

Bayverse/ 2007/ last ronin

Leo or Raph with fem reader

Angst to comfort

Long term established relationship, have a massive argument over whatever , a very very bad argument Almost relationship ending argument , and reader storms off when the turtle says something that is so hurtful .

no contact from either party for days , then an accident happens at readers work and the turtle of choice can’t get in contact ( readers phone died) just pure panic and regret and stress from Leo/ Raph , they go to readers apartment to find it empty, que even worse stress , in the midst of the panic reader walks in with takeout or something , still upset from the argument days before and slightly confused to see how stressed and close to tears their partner is. Que to reader being swept off their feet and wherever else you deem fit! If you want a little spice in there go ahead aswell!

Thanks for reading this!!

A/N: Thank you for the sweet compliment about my writing! I went with 2007 Leo for this one since I haven’t written anything with him solo x reader. I also let it get a bit spicy at the end, but not full-on smut (though I’d be more than willing to write something more explicit with ‘07 Leo in the future 👀)

Enjoy! 💖

The Sharp Edge of a Word (angst)

💙 2007 Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

CWs: Heavy angst, verbal argument, miscommunication temporary break-up, perceived character in peril, panic attacks/anxiety spiral, hurt/comfort, and a spicy reconciliation (implied sex, but not super explicit.) All characters are aged-up.

You can’t pinpoint the exact spark that ignited this inferno, only that it’s been smoldering for weeks. A build-up of unspoken resentments and miscommunications.

And now it’s escalated with a terrifying speed.

Leo stands opposite you, his usual calm fractured, his eyes blazing with a frustration that mirrors your own. “You deliberately twist my words,” he grits out. “You make it sound like I don’t care, like you don’t matter.”

“Do I, Leo?” you shoot back, your own voice trembling with a mixture of rage and unshed tears. You clench your hands so tight that your nails dig into your palms. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like I’m just … convenient. Someone to come home to when the world-saving is done for the day. Am I even a priority, or just part of the background scenery of your real life?”

The accusation hangs heavy, unfair perhaps. But born from a deep-seated fear that has festered in the quiet moments when he’s been distant, preoccupied.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” He throws his hands up, his voice cracking with agitation. “My family, my responsibilities as a leader, the constant threat we live under—these aren’t choices, they’re necessities! This is who I am, what I have to do to keep everyone, including you, safe!”

“And where do I fit into that grand, heroic narrative?” you cry, the tears finally breaking free, hot and stinging. “A distraction? A liability? Or an afterthought when the adrenaline wears off and you remember I exist?” You hate the shrillness in your voice, the desperate plea you hear in it.

His jaw clenches, a muscle there ticking furiously. His eyes, usually so full of warmth when they look at you, are now cold, hard. Then he delivers the blow, the words precise and devastating, striking the air from your lungs.

“Maybe you just don’t get it. Maybe you’re not capable of understanding the pressure, the stakes. My family, my duty … has to come first. It always will. If you can’t accept that—if you can’t handle what this life demands—then maybe … maybe this, us, was a mistake.”

The world tilts. Then silence. Absolute, deafening silence where your heart shatters. A mistake. Your years together, the love you’ve built, the sanctuary you thought you had in each other—is a mistake?

“A mistake?” you whisper, the fight completely draining out of you, leaving behind a gaping, icy void.

You see a flicker in his eyes—something akin to panic dawning, a horrified realization of what he’s just said. But the poison is already seeping in, the damage done.

It’s too late.

Numbly, you turn. Your hands, clumsy and shaking, sling your purse over your shoulder. “Fine,” you choke out, refusing to make eye contact with him, “if that’s how you feel.”

You don’t look back. You can’t.

The quiet click of his bedroom door as you close it behind you feels more final, more crushing than any furious slam ever could.

You leave behind the sound of his voice calling your name.

You exit the sewers and drive back to your apartment on autopilot. There, every photo of the two of you, every trinket he’s ever given you—are all fresh stabs of pain. And that night, you don’t sleep.

You lie in your bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every second, every expression on Leo’s face with masochistic accuracy. The worst part isn’t the argument. It’s how easily he said it.

A mistake.

By morning, your pillow is damp, your chest hollow. You move through your apartment like a ghost, barely noticing the sun bleeding in through the blinds. There’s a message on your phone: Leo. Just your name, spoken in a tone that’s almost … pleading. You don’t listen to it, just delete it.

You call in sick to work, citing a migraine, which isn’t entirely a lie. You don’t eat and you struggle to sleep. Lying in bed, you again stare at the ceiling, replaying his words. Your phone lies face down on the kitchen counter. You simultaneously dread and pray for it to light up with his name.

The following day, you force yourself out of bed, shower, and get dressed for work. You need the distraction, the mundane routine to keep the tidal wave of sorrow at bay. You catch your reflection in the mirror—pale, with dark circles already blooming beneath your eyes—and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.

He had no right to cast aside years of love and devotion, labeling it all as nothing more than a mistake.

The anger is a welcome shield, far better than the hollow ache. You leave your phone on the counter again. If he wants to reach you, he knows where you live.

By the third day, the anger has hardened into a grim resolve. This is it. This is your life now. You can do this; you have to. You’re a whirlwind of frantic energy, answering emails, filing reports, and volunteering for the tedious tasks nobody else wants, throwing yourself into your work.

Anything to keep your mind from wandering back to the devastating finality in Leo’s eyes.

For three days, you vanish from his world. No texts, no calls, no visits.

And in those three days, Leo unravels.

He’s called. He’s texted. Left voicemails he instantly regretted, then sent others with apologies. He can’t get through to anyone at your work. The reception desk tells him you’re not answering your extension. They won’t confirm if you’re even still there. His stomach churns.

When Donnie offers to help trace your phone, Leo nearly agrees—then refuses. It feels like crossing a line.

He’s a catastrophic wreck. The initial anger from your argument had quickly given way to a gnawing guilt, then a profound regret. Those words—he hadn’t meant them. He’d been lashing out, being defensive. Stupid. He’d told himself you needed space, that he’d give it to you.

But with each passing day, the space felt less like a cooling-off period and more like an ever-widening abyss.

His brothers watch him, their concern growing. They notice the difference—how quiet he’s become, how uncharacteristically hesitant his movements are during training. Even Raph doesn’t poke at him like he usually would. Donnie offers logical explanations. Mikey leaves cookies outside his bedroom door.

But Leo just drifts.

He barely trains, barely eats. Just paces, the image of your heartbroken face seared into his memory. He replays it all too—your tears, your voice cracking, the way your hand trembled on the doorknob before you walked out.

On the fourth day, the dam of his resolve breaks.

It’s late afternoon when Mikey bursts into the dojo, holding his phone, his face pale. “Leo! Dude, you gotta see this.”

He shoves the phone into Leo’s hand. It’s a local news live stream. A fire. A commercial building downtown, smoke billowing from the upper floors. Your building. Your office.

The world narrows to the small, bright screen. The reporter’s voice is a meaningless buzz in his ears. He sees the location at the bottom of the screen, sees the fire trucks. He hones in only on phrases like “evacuation in progress” and “several minor injuries reported.”

Panic, cold and sharp, pierces through him. He’s dialing your number before he even processes the thought, his breath catching when it goes, yet again, to voicemail. His blood runs cold. Of course it goes to voicemail; you haven’t answered him in days. He tries again. And again.

“Cell towers in that area are probably overloaded,” Donnie says, his attempt at comforting. “It’s possible her phone battery died, or she left it behind in the evacuation.”

The words he spat at you echo in his mind: Maybe this was a mistake. What if those were the last words he ever said to you? He stumbles back, feeling like for a moment, he’s about to faint.

“Leo?” Raph’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, laced with alarm.

“I have to go,” Leo chokes out.

“Whoa, hold on, Fearless,” Raph says, stepping in his path. “Let’s think for a sec. We don’t know anything yet.”

“That’s the point, Raph! I don’t know!” Leo’s voice cracks, the carefully constructed shell of the leader shattering completely. “She’s not answering. I need to … I have to see.”

Raph looks at him—really looks at him—and sees the raw panic, the fear in his older brother’s eyes. So he steps aside. “Go,” he says. “We’ve got your back.”

The journey to your apartment is a blur. Jumping across rooftops, Leo’s heart pounds as he moves with desperate, reckless speed. He pictures you hurt, scared, alone in a hospital. Pictures you thinking he doesn’t care, that he meant what he said. The thought is a fresh shard of glass in his gut with every leap he takes.

He reaches your building, scaling the familiar bricks to your fire escape. He slips open the window latch he helped you rig so he could get in and out easily, then drops silently into your living room.

His world stops.

It’s empty. Your jacket’s gone. No lights. No noise. The silence wraps around him like a noose. The sight of the undisturbed quiet is a thousand times worse than walking into a scene of chaos. It’s an absence. A void where you should be.

“No,” he breathes, a knot of ice forming in his stomach, a crushing weight settling on his chest.

He checks every room, his hope dwindling with each empty space. And there, on the kitchen counter, is your phone. Face down. He was calling a phone that wasn’t even with you.

Strength draining from his limbs, he leans against the counter, his head bowed. He is too late. He let his pride, his anger, get in the way, and now you’re gone. A choked, dry sob escapes him. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the image of the burning building. Of this empty, silent apartment.

He failed. Failed to protect you, failed to love you right, and the last thing you will ever know is that he thought you were a mistake.

The sound of a key turning in the lock makes his head snap up.

You’ve always known Leo feels deeply, despite the iron wall of discipline he wears like armor. You just didn’t know what it would look like when that wall cracks.

The door swings open and you step inside, juggling two large paper bags of Chinese takeout. You kick the door shut with your heel, muttering to yourself. When you finally look up, you freeze. Because there in your kitchen is Leo.

But it’s not the angry, defensive Leo from your argument. This Leo looks shattered. His face is pale, his eyes wide and bloodshot, glistening with unshed tears. He breathes hard, bracing his hands on your counter as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“Leo?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. The anger you’ve been nursing for days begins to evaporate.

He doesn’t answer with words.

His arms are around you, lifting you off your feet before you can react. You let out a small gasp as he crushes you against his plastron, his face burying in the crook of your neck. You feel a tremor run through his entire body, the shudder of a man who has been to the edge of his personal hell and back.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he rasps, his voice thick and broken against your skin. “I saw the news … the fire … you weren’t answering …”

He carries you to the couch and sinks down, still holding you tightly in his lap as if you might vanish if he lets go. His hands are in your hair, on your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he searches your eyes, his own brimming with a relief so profound it’s painful to witness.

“My phone’s dead,” you explain, your mind slowly catching up as you place the bags on the coffee table. “I left it here. I was … I didn’t want to talk to you.” The admission feels small and petty now. “There was a fire in the server room. We all had to evacuate.”

His arms are still around you, and he’s so close it’s like he’s trying to meld his being with yours. He’s shaking. Actually shaking. His breath stutters against your shoulder. “You weren’t answering,” he says into your neck, voice broken and raw. “I thought—God, I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone.”

You go stiff. The memory of the fight is still fresh, still sour in your chest. But the way he’s holding you? It unravels something tight and painful behind your ribs.

You pull back just enough to look at him, to see the sincerity warring with the lingering terror in his eyes. “But you said it,” you whisper, the words still sharp enough to cut. “You said we were a mistake.”

His face crumples. He lets go of you with one hand to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “No,” he says, his voice thick with self-loathing. “That’s not true. I was … I felt like you were questioning everything I am, and I said the most horrible, stupid thing I could think of to make you hurt as much as I did. The second it left my mouth, I wanted to swallow it back down. Saying that to you was the single biggest mistake of my life.”

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as another shudder wracks his frame. “These last few days, thinking I’d driven you away for good, were torture. But this last hour,” his voice breaks, “this last hour, believing you were in that building … believing I might never get to take it back … That wasn’t torture. That was the end of everything.”

His eyes open, and you see the truth of it there: Leo’s sheer, undiluted terror of a world without you in it. It shatters the last of your anger, the last of your hardened resolve, and the tears you’ve been holding back finally fall. But they’re not tears of pain anymore. They are tears of overwhelming, gut-wrenching relief.

“You’re not an afterthought,” he continues. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the place I go to breathe. You’re the reason I can face everything out there. You’re the anchor that keeps me from getting lost. Without you …” He shakes his head, unable to finish the thought.

You lift a hand, your fingers tangling in the blue fabric of his mask, pulling him closer. “Leo,” you murmur, your own voice trembling.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds yours. Full of apology and fear, and a love so fierce it steals your breath. You kiss him back with everything you have, your hands clutching his shoulders. He breaks the kiss only to pepper more across your jaw, your cheeks, your eyelids.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against your temple. “I am so, so sorry.”

“I know,” you breathe, your heart aching. “I’m sorry, too. I pushed you.”

“Don’t,” he says, pulling back to look at you again. “Don’t apologize. You were right to be scared. I get so lost in my duties, I forget to show you what you mean to me. I’ll do better. I swear I’ll do better.”

Then, without another word, he slides one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, standing and lifting you effortlessly. You let out a surprised yelp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carries you out of the living room and into your room, laying you gently on your bed.

He follows you down, covering your body with his. “I’m not letting you go,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your hands coming up to frame his face, your thumbs tracing the powerful line of his jaw.

He peels away the layers of your clothing and his gear until there is nothing left between you. He looks at you, his eyes dark with an emotion so powerful it makes your stomach flutter.

“You are the most important thing in my life,” he says, the words a quiet truth in the dim light of your bedroom. “You are my first priority. Always.”

Your heart melts. “Leo …”

His words are a vow, spoken into the fragile space between you, sealing the crack that had nearly split your world in two. His hands slide from your body to brace on either side of your head, caging you in. “I was so stupid,” he breathes. “To risk this. To risk you.”

He moves between your legs, nudging them apart with his knee. The feel of his skin against yours is electric, a fire starter against the kindling of your frayed nerves. “Look at me,” he says, and you obey, your tear-filled eyes locking with his. “You are my world. You feel me? This is where I belong. Right here.”

You arch your hips, causing a tremor to run through him. “Show me,” you whisper. “Show me I’m your priority.”

And then he does.

#my writing #filled requests #tmnt 2007 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2007 x reader #2007 leonardo #2007 leo #2007 leonardo x reader #2007 leo x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt requests #not posted on ao3 #scheduled post

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