#just some sour memories from LoL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzdarlings · 10 months ago

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sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you.

Not the fun kind of torture, either. You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away. Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked.

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours. Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip. It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong. And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn. Your thoughts spiralled.

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door. You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind. It did, but only momentarily. When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled. Badly. You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive. Something about how last night was the only night. Something about how you were bad at commitments. Something about being better off friends.

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot. Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed. It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.

“Trust me,” he said. “We will never be friends.”

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him. What did you care if he hated you again? You didn’t. You shouldn’t. “Good.”

It was not good. Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach.

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed. You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words.

You will never look at him the same way again. You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back. Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.

It freaks you out. You are usually good at shucking attachments. His cold acceptance should not have hurt. What did you care? This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right? So you let Seungmin shove past you. He ignored you for the rest of the day. When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart.

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well. You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface. It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar. You know you will not like what you see.

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out.

You are not having any fun, of course. You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular.

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be. You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes.

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans. No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed. Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed. The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is. His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze.

The jeans. The stupid fucking jeans. Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does. And why does he have such a nice ass anyway? It also has no business looking that way.

Kim Seungmin. What a nightmare.

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall. You tell yourself not to look at him. He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink.

So, no. You will not give him the satisfaction. It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves.

You will not let him get to you. You will not look at him. You will not react.

Except he is already getting to you. So you look over. You react.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool.

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man. You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff. Seungmin doesn’t know that. He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk. And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you.

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you. Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world. There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth. You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that.

“Move along,” you say to the creep.

“Excuse me?”

He is already drunk. You can smell it as much as see it. Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose.

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does. One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you. You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone. He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him. You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was. You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you.

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze. You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling. He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed.

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep. “Now move along.”

“Try me.”

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him.

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist. He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip. You slam him against the back of the booth.

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand. You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it. You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth. You drag him away.

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.”

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again. “I’m having fun. I don’t need you to do anything. It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me. Bad,” he smirks, “or good.”

He knows he has you cornered. You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands. You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent.

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing. You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other. When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place. He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual.

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back. His stare is unwavering. He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows.

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks.

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you.

“I didn’t ask,” you say.

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends. He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either. He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated.

He is going to make you say it. He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it. He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.

“Fine,” you say. You exhale. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit. I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says. “You are.”

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly.

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit. “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway. I just—” You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away. You can feel him glaring at you. “Look, I suck, I get it. Believe me, I know all the ways I suck. I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says. He is still frowning at you. “I already know how much you suck. It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”

“I… don’t…” You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you. Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one. Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.”

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities. Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes. Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips. Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you. “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face.

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.”

You draw a cross over your heart and nod. He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside.

“You’re the worst,” he says. He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face. He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet. “You better make this worth my while,” he says.

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while. You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on. You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments.

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him. He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood. It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold. Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it.

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind. It is all the more reason to make sure you are. You really were such an idiot.

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder. This touch invites more than demands.

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare. It disappears when you swoop in. His hood falls as you tug him close. He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you.

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs. You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans.

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours. “Not prepared.”

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing. You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch. You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.

“Trust me,” you say. “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says. “I will. You better not let me down.” He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does.

You feel the weight of that trust. You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss. You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw.

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you. “Are you gonna prove it or not?”

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot. Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either. You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed. All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch. You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity. He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt. He is inside the cabin before you reach the door.

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door. It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside. You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were.

But he is waiting inside the cabin. Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours. When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with.

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily. It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss.

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot. He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours.

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip. The coat hits the floor in a damp heap. You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off. You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill. Just looking at him like this has you throbbing. You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour.

You can’t imagine believing it. Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath.

He is looking aside, contemplatively. You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers. You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him. He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say. The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely.

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” he asks.

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound. He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees. He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side. The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in.

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans. He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses.

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp. His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be.

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet. You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise. There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows. He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs.

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance. Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.

“Making it worth your while,” you say. He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof.

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back. He blinks innocently.

“Shoes first,” he says.

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth. You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other. It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on. You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following.

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice. You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively.

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word. “Jerk.”

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise. His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand. He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand. You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb.

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him. He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them. His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth.

“I’m—I’m—” His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once. He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting. It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again. When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go.

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him. You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck. You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately.

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet.

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants.

“Hello—” It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly. It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down. “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace. “Just like that is good.”

He learns quickly. It was the same last time. Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled. With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges. He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out. You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass. The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow.

“It is,” he says. “And I’m winning.”

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs. He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.

“Still winning?” you ask.

“Obviously,” he replies.

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious. You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation.

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him.

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently. “Can you?”

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless. Your equipment is in your travel bag. You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless. You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver. Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding.

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket. You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that.

He’d naked. Of course he is. Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap. He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong. Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” you say. “That’s fine.” It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising. You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly. A lot of men are new to it. Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it.

But then he says, “Any of it.”

And you say, “Huh?”

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute. You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning. Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered. Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you.

“Oh,” you say. Then, “Oh. Fucking shit. I’m such an asshole.”

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning.

He does not look upset about it anymore. In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back. It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you.

“Yeah,” he says. “You are. We already knew that.”

“I really, I just—”

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt.

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected.

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability.

“Thanks,” he says. “Stating the obvious. I’m also picky. And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says. His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one. “Not ever.”

Agh. There’s that heart again, pounding away. Who knew that thing could race so fast.

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table. “That is their loss. Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.”

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself. “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting.

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face. “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.”

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that. That the wrong person could make this terrible for him. That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream. These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish.

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck.

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless.

“Wow!” he says. “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing.

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him. “No way,” he says. “You and your ego. Gross.”

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant. “I’ll be so normal,” you say. “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly.

“Yeah, but…” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “You kinda like me anyway, right?”

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be. It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Unfortunately,” he says.

You giggle and he swats your head.

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“No, no, of course not,” you say. You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him.

“What are we doing then?” he asks.

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again.

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you. Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.

“First, before anything else, this.” You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound. You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing. It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are. Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you.

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.”

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts. The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again. There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation.

Last time, he needed almost no direction. He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body. He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth.

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen. It does not matter if you do. It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm. This time, it is touch and sensuality. He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time. You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry. You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time.

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair. He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again.

“You’re a fast learner,” you say. “Bet you could get used to this.”

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him. Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back. You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him.

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him. He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry. You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile.

“Turn around,” you say. “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner. Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly.

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you. He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you. His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him.

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you. This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him. You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm. You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick. You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started. The sheets are a mess already.

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh. “You’re the worst. I hate you.”

You laugh. Oh well. No time to worry about bedsheets. You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you.

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside. “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says. “They’ll think it was a skiing accident. And that you got mauled by a bear. And eaten by wolves. And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best. It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in. Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels. You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear. His groaning turns into a whine.

“Okay?” you ask.

“Gonna kill you,” he says.

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely. His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest. You let him catch his breath and adjust. “Still okay?”

“It’s weird,” he says.

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says. “It’s… it’s good. It’s just…” You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens. He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin. You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood. “Ugh,” he says. “It’s so wet. I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…”

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips. “You’re not.”

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you. You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest. He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return.

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants. It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all. If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down.

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too.

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says.

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck. “It’s okay.”

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh. “Making love, huh,” he says dryly. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours. “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand.

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“What are you gonna do about it? Make love at me? Sap.”

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back. He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness. His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread. Good.” Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed. He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it.

You snap your hips together and fuck into him. This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control. He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his. He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth.

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure. “Yeah, that’s right.”

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves. The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head. You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all.

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back.

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I won. Again.”

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say.

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh.

“Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy.

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles.

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own. It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you.

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest. He wakes a little on the journey. And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “I promise.”

“Good,” he says. “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod.

“You’re right,” you say.

“Of course I am.” He snuggles in close and sighs. “Now go the fuck to sleep. Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say with a laugh.

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.

You can tell him in the morning.

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #skz smut #skz x reader

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ninapi · 5 months ago

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Kimetsu Daddies: Vol.1 ╝

Premise: Everyone has insecurities and parenting can certainly bring even more to the plate. Taking a trip to memory lane to the first days of his fatherhood journey makes Sanemi realize maybe he isn't half bad himself.

Word Count: 3639

Note: This is a prequel of sorts for my previous story "Liquid Sunshine" (which you can read here if you haven't yet), starting right after bonus chapter 2, but this is also the beginning of a new series as you might have guessed by the title change, lol. My love @huh01011 requested some smut to be added to this series, I must warn you all, I am not a smut writer, and there's not as much in it as I wanted it to be, but I tried to incorporate some in a way~ Also tagging pookie @cock-ainee who wanted to be tagged here ❤��

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Summer was a dreaded season in the Shinazugawa household.

The excessive moisture in the air made almost impossible to work the fields for the younger lads adding even more load to the already overworked Sanemi.

Sanehiko, who could stand such temperatures, was the only one able to aid his father with the animals and the fields as his beloved mother was feeling under the weather.

The last few weeks had been odd. After having such an eye opening conversation with the children, your mood had been sour, making Sanemi feel he had done something wrong.

Dealing with so many little ones, he assumed you were just a bit overwhelmed, baby Sae was still a very demanding baby and Senri, who just started walking on his own, has been climbing trees and running around like a madman, plenty of reasons to be a bit grouchy.

But that was far from reality.

“Sanehiko, where’s your mother?” Sanemi asked his eldest as he hauled the entire harvest of tomatoes on his back.

“Last time I saw her, she was cleaning her own puke near the bath.”

The sound of exploding tomatoes hitting the scorching hot ground made Sanehiko shudder at the thought of the lost produce, “WHAT? She was doing WHAT?”

“Ugh…she was…” the boy stuttered, his mother wont be pleased knowing some of the tomatoes were squashed down by his father’s annoyance and it was most definitely his fault…”She was…ummm…on the floor? Yes, she was on the floor, with a rag cleaning after her…” he smiled proudly, able to recount the facts with as much details as possible without sounding so aggravating.

“Why was she on the floor Sanehiko? Is your mother sick?” panic was written all over Sanemi’s face, if there’s something that terrifies him is the thought of ever loosing you.

Thinking back, Sanehiko realizes he isn’t even sure why his mother was in such predicament, making him feel worse for not stopping to help her, “Not sure father, Genma is the one in charge of mother…I had to come get the milk out on time…”

“Tch, bring the tomatoes inside.” without a second thought, Sanemi marched back inside the house, in search of his darling wife who seemed to be feeling even worse than he thought.

When he found you, Genma was rubbing your belly in soothing circles while you clutched a pillow close to your face, “Hey, my love…what’s wrong…?” his tone of voice was laced with honey, he hated seeing you in distress and he knew you’ve been struggling lately.

“Nemi…” your voice was so weak almost a whisper, he could barely hear you.

“Yes, baby tell me…” holding your hand, he crouched down beside you, giving your knuckles an adoring kiss.

“I-…another one is coming…”

“What do you mean, babe?” realization hit him hard, your pale face, the morning discomfort, lack of appetite, uncomfortable nights…”Oh….OH?…you’re pregnant again, my love??” his eyes went from imminent despair to happiness overload in a mater of seconds, making you chuckle.

“I think so yeah, pretty sure actually, Nemi…isn’t it too fast…? I…I honestly thought Sae would be the last one…at least for a while...”

“Do you not feel comfortable having more children, baby?” sadness could be heard in his voice, but he would respect your wishes, no matter what they were.

“It’s not that, my love…it’s just…my body is still tired, Sae is still breastfeeding, I guess this time is really taking a toll on me, that’s all. Of course I want to bring your babies to this world.” your gentle reassurance brought him back to life, you were all that mattered to him, his entire life, a gift he had been given, one he would protect at all cost.

Forgetting his tiny son was around is one of Sanemi’s traits now a days, Genma was listening to the entire thing, mauling things over in his little head silently while you held each other, his sister however, had been hiding under the window seal, also listening.

“Mama, what’s pr’gnant?” Remi climbed her way into the room through the window, quickly sitting beside Genma.

“It’s when mommy has a baby inside of her, angel.”

Genma gasped loudly, “You did this to her, didn’t you father?! That night! I knew it, you hurt her!”

“No, no baby. Your father didn’t hurt me…he gave us another member of our family, it’s just…you know summer is tough on me, my love, having a baby inside is harder at the beginning, I’ll be ok in a few weeks, I promise.”

Sanemi was speechless, he couldn’t believe his son kept insisting on him hurting you, like if that was actually a thing, he was incapable of hurting a single hair of your head and he would have thought his own son would know this.

“But mother! You shouldn’t have to be this sick! We are already so many in this house! I don’t want you to be sick! Please stop putting babies inside of her, father!” the toddler started wailing, his sister not completely understanding why he was in such distress, hugged him gently. “Mama is ok, nii-nii, don’t cry…”

Sanehiko came into the room when he heard his brother crying, Sae sleeping on his back while Senri was holding his hand, “Genma? What’s wrong?”

“Mama ate a baby and he’s sad…”

“She what?” this time Senri was the one who started crying, his sister’s words scaring the hell out of him.

“I’m pregnant again, love. That’s all.”

“Oh yeah, I thought so. We heard you after all, that’s just how it works, right father?” Sanemi just nodded absentmindedly, while he was happy with the news, he started questioning his fathering skills lately. Genma clearly doesn’t trust him and even thinks he’s capable of hurting his mother, what could possibly led him to think that way? Was he a good father even? He knows he’s strict, having to provide for such a large family isn’t easy, discipline is needed, but he loves his children and he thought they knew it…

Getting up from his spot beside you without saying a word, he walked outside of the house and up a small hill he goes to when he needs to think. Contemplating his own mistakes was more daunting that he ever imagined, memories of Genma’s constant terrified face hunting him.

Sanehiko left the babies in your care and ran after his dad, “Father, are you ok? Mother looked worried…Is the baby sick?”

“No…no, the baby is fine…is your brother who worries me..”

“You mean Genma? Or Senri?” he plopped beside his dad, both had the exact same pose, legs crossed, a half scowl on their faces, it was like seeing himself in a mirror, just that without scars.

“Genma…”

Nodding, Sanehiko let out a sigh, he understands his dad’s predicament, Genma isn’t a difficult kid, he is actually quite a sunshine, but he is obsessed with his own mother and that makes Sanemi’s odds against him most of the times.

“He stopped crying already, father. It’s not that he doesn’t want another sibling, he just doesn’t like it when mother is sick. This time she really is in bad shape though, is it the heat again?”

“Yeah…heat has always been hard on her, specially when she’s in her first trimester…” that made Sanehiko think, none of his siblings had been in that part of pregnancy during summer, not that he can remember at least. “Really? Was it Genma?”

“No, it was you actually…” the memory of you throwing your guts out of the window during summer nights made a faint smile grace his lips.

“Was I a difficult baby, father?” Sanemi’s smile just kept growing with the memories, “Not at all, you were the quietest of all, a true gift…”

Sanehiko had never seen his father this soft before, it felt oddly comforting knowing he was talking about him just now. “Did I give mother a hard time then? I feel like we’ve never talked about this before…”

It was crazy, but true. Having to run a farm kept you both very busy and the more babies came, the harder its been to just sit down with your eldest and have a nice chat.

“We were young and inexperienced when you came to this world. For the longest time we thought you were a virus because she couldn’t eat a single thing without puking…” a soft chuckle left his lips as he remembers those sleepless nights of him rubbing your back until you could fall asleep on his lap, holding you while the moon shone above you, illuminating your beautiful face. Those days were quiet, nothing like the ones you have today, and honestly, he kind of misses them. Having you all to himself all day, all night…the intimacy and love remains, but there’s limitations to what he can or cannot do now.

Sanehiko chuckled along shaking his head, a clear image of his mother being painted by his father. “How did you guys know it was me and not a virus then?”

“Hmmmm…after a lot of arguing, I threw your mother over my shoulder and took her to see the doctor downtown, she wasn’t eating and it was making me anxious…”

“You're just like Genma, father.”

“Huh? What do you mean just like Genma? He’s the least similar to me from all your siblings.”

He shook his head, smiling “He’s just like you, father. Mother yawns and one of you is right by her side with a blanket, she coughs and there’s fresh tea in front of her in seconds. She makes a slight noise and the entire house is checking on her, those are the Shinazugawa genes, father, they come from you.”

Maybe he was right, maybe he and Genma had more in common that he thought, getting the child to see that would be harder though.

“So, you took mother to the doctor. What’d he say?” this is the first time Sanehiko has story time with his father since he’s a little kid, it made him feel fuzzy inside and wanted to hear more of his upbringing.

Sanemi seeing his interest, turned to face him with a grin on his face, “Then he tells us she isn’t sick but round and full with our first child. I still remember that day like it was yesterday, man was I happy…”

“You were happy because I was inside of mother?” he wasn’t expecting to hear that, while he knows his father loves getting his mother pregnant, he isn’t one to celebrate or smile like that.

“Of course! There was nothing I wanted more back then than to see your mother stuffed full with my child. I can’t expect you to understand this yet, but there is nothing better than knowing a piece of you lives inside the woman you love…”

“A piece of you…am I a piece of you, father?”

“Damn straight you are, son. Half of me, half of your beautiful mother, the result of our never ending love…”

“I’m the result of your love…” Sanehiko has never felt this loved before, his parents are usually very caring and understanding, but hearing his stoic father saying such a thing made his eyes fill up with tears.

“You really love mother, don’t you father?”

“More than I could ever thought possible, son…” Sanemi’s smile was pure, soft, love could be felt from the air around him, it was palpable.

“And…us?” while he was scared of asking, he knew his father loved him, yet somehow he needed validation.

“I love every single one of you with all my heart. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sanehiko scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his father in a way to comfort his aching heart, “We know you do.” resting his cheek on his son’s fluffy hair, they stay there in silence, until you called out for your eldest for help.

Sanemi decided to stay a little longer contemplating life once more.

Thinking about the days when you two were younger and so very much in love brought a permanent smile to his face.

Sanehiko’s arrival was indeed the peak of his lifetime.

When you agreed to let him move with you to the farm for good, it took just a couple of hours before he had you pinned to the bathroom wall, this time without clothes in between, marks of his passion for you littering your beautiful silky skin, those gorgeous lips parted for him and screaming his name as he rammed into you nonstop, quite the memory really.

And it continued for a while, every day and night the growing needs to posses you, to fill you up with his essence, was overbearing. He needed the world to see you were claimed, to see you were his and his alone, that every single bit of skin on that beautiful body of yours was his, that your heart and all your love within it was exclusively just for him.

Memories of your face contouring with pleasure as he sucked on your perfect perky breasts like it was his last meal, the screams leaving your pretty lips and carrying his name through the wind every time he pushed himself within you as deep as he could and then some. The heat inside of you squeezing him dry, then making him hard once again at how good it felt to have you cum around his aching manhood, at how tightly you clenched around him with your core, holding onto him like if your life depended on it. He truly misses those days when his name echoed in every single wall of the house, your melodic moans and the sound of your heavy breathing all that could be heard for miles.

But when he held his first child in his arms, his world got upside down. He just didn’t know what to do with himself.

While he had witnessed all the birthing of his siblings, he had never felt such a bond before. The way Sanehiko’s eyes were barely open, how he held to his large manly thumb for dear life and hugged it to sleep, how he would snuggle on his chest and just lay there for hours just changed him.

You were his angel, his wife, the woman he loved from almost the moment he met you. A true gift from the heavens, but this baby…this little human in his arms….he was the outcome of your passion, of your fierce love for one another, he held all your dreams, your future, this tiny little thing who fit in his palm was the reason you both lived to that day, he was your anchor, the very core of your family, your reason to get up every day and make a living out of that devastated farm.

Sanehiko meant hope, joy, love. His first child, the one he so wished to have, his pride.

While he thought you’d be pregnant right after Sanehiko was born, because being real, he had his way between your legs daily; Genma didn’t come for a while.

You had time to bond with your first child, get to know him, play with him, teach him how to tend the animals. Being a parent isn’t easy, a first born gets to experience all the ‘firsts’ after all, but overall the learning experience helped you both create patterns for the future babes. While none of the kids were alike, at least it gave you a foundation already stablished to raise your children, and it worked quite well. Until lately, that is.

The heat was finally dimming down a little signalizing the day was coming to an end, the need to check on you being more significant than the dread he felt of facing Genma.

Heading inside the house he noticed Sanehiko was reading a story to the younger kids, Remi being already asleep on his leg. The sight made him smile, memories of little newborn Sanehiko still fresh in his mind.

In your room, Genma was still looking a bit sulky but you looked way better, lunch already gone from your system.

“Hey beautiful…felling better?” he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You’re normally not as physically affectionate in front of the children, but you could feel your man needing comfort.

“I am, baby. Don’t worry, our child is going to be as healthy as the rest, of that I’m sure. You know the heat hunts me when I’m pregnant…” your soft giggles made him smile, “Yeah I was telling Sanehiko that story earlier, how you’d puke every night and could only sleep on my lap…” his smile turned to a smirk, his lips finding your neck to give it a little nip.

“Mmmmm yeah…good old times…we need to time babies better so I never have to spend another first trimester in summer again though…” groaning you turned your head to bury your face in his soft hair, his natural scent was just so comforting, it made you feel better almost immediately.

“Yeah, I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to…” his soft tone and apology startled Genma, he’s rarely ever heard his father saying his sorry for anything, let alone be this gentle.

“I’m just as guilty of this as you are, my love. You don’t need to apologize. On the contrary, thank you for giving me another treasure…” the feeling of your soft nose buried in his hair was making him feel so emotional. Earlier he had felt like he sucked at being a parent but after bonding over it with Sanehiko and reminiscing of the time he was born, he just feels so complete…

“Thank you, babe…without you…I wouldn’t….I…I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without you…” his words were chocked up, Genma was still in shock, he could feel the emotional state of his broken father filling up the air.

“Father…are you ok…?” Genma held onto Sanemi’s leg, hugging it with his tiny body. It’s been a while since he feels his toddler’s warmth.

“I am son, thank you for asking.”

“Father…I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I don’t understand this baby thing very well…but I know you wouldn’t hurt mother now…” Sanemi’s heart grew three sizes, he didn’t know he needed to hear this so badly, but turns out he did.

“You know? Sanehiko told me earlier that you’re very similar to me…that your obsession with your mother is all my fault for being your father…” that made you laugh, while it is true, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“You two are very similar that’s true, loving, gentle, big hearted sweethearts and gorgeous babes~” the last part made Genma fall into a crazy fit of giggles.

“Mother, how was I as a baby? I know Nii-chan was very attached to father, was I always attached to you?”

“Well yes, you’ve always been very much a mama’s boy…but when you were born…God…I had to line up to get some time with you, your father would hog you away and keep you all to himself all the time, even Sanehiko was jealous back then!”

“I did not hog our child, ok? I was just…happy…” Genma’s little ears turned bright pink, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You were happy because I looked like my uncle?” while that was part of it originally, it wasn’t just that, he truly had a wonderful bond with his sons, he was happy to welcome a new one after so long, Sanehiko was already a toddler back then and having such a cute little baby coddled up on his chest would make his heart sing every time.

“No, when you were born you were bald, we didn’t even know you would have dark hair.” that was a lie, but it made the child glow with happiness, being cared for just for his similarities to his uncle is something he’s feared his whole life.

“Bald? I didn’t know I was an ugly baby!”laughing wildly, Sanemi lets go of your waist to pick his son up in his arms, “Nah you were the cutest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on…”

“Cuter than Sae? She’s real cute, father…” his little hands wrapped around Sanemi’s head, his cute tiny nose nuzzling the side of his face as he giggles happily, this sort of affection normally reserved just for you, made Sanemi think he might have been finally forgiven by his son.

“Oh she is, alright, she looks just like your mama. But you…your eyes were so full of love even when you were a day old…I’ll never forget the first time you smiled at us…We knew we were blessed that day…” Genma has never been this clingy with Sanemi, but it felt just right, it reminded him of a young Genya clinging onto him for support and for comfort, days that had been long forgotten, days he holds dear in his heart, those days filled with nothing but happiness, those came back thanks to you, thanks to the beautiful family you two were able to build based on love and trust.

Being a father isn’t easy, and six is indeed a very large number, but he would do it all over again as many times as needed just to see the smile in your face every time they’re around.

“But father, are you going to explain me now how does the baby pee work? Can you make more when she has a baby inside already? Do they line up? Or do you like turn it off? I’ve been smelling your tea, I didn’t notice anything different, I still want to know what you need to drink to make babies��”

“Oh god…not again…”

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moonsaver · 7 months ago

Note

THANK YOU FOR READING MY RAMBLE ABOUT THIS SLUTTY MAN, I have love-hate relationship with Ratio :3 (YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING AS ALWAYS)

BUT ALSO, ANOTHER RAMBLE HERE CAUSE YOU'RE MY FAVORITE WRITER!!

I don't know if you feel uncomfortable/weirded out with this, but if you do! Please do delete this if you want, it's your choice!!

Imagine a child, it can be one of those children in Penacony or other planets. But I pick the child from the Penacony! Walking up to Ratio and S/O, who is probably bickering as per usual or just enjoying one of another times (Secretly, since Ratio wants to be a secretive or this is same past-rebelious but now Professor S/O!)

As the child tugs on S/O, calling them pretty and hugs them. THEN PROCEEDED TO BE LIKE "kay now, you're my parent/mother/father"

LIKE:

"Hey miss/mister/mx! You look very pretty/handsome/unique! Will you be my parent?"

IMAGINE RATIO REACTION, *IF* THE KID IS GONNA BE LIKE

"oh, you're going to be my dad as well/other father/other parent!

OR THE OTHER WAY, HOGGING S/O ATTENTION. Clinging On S/O, regardless how many times S/O tries to get the kid back at their actual and real parents here, and would sometimes spend time hanging out with the kid while also trying to search for the kid parent

(AND ALSO I'M GOING TO SEND SOME RAMBLE ABOUT ROBIN (if you Dont mind!) MY BABY DESERVES THE BEST)

Hello anon! Always happy to answer brain rots and imagines and rambles hehe. Glad to see you back in my inbox!

Also, so cute hehe.

I imagine Dr. Ratio is actually pretty good with kids. The thing with kids is most of them love asking a shit ton of questions, the most ridiculous kinds at that. And you know those people who are so damn smart and knowledgeable in their field they start thinking about possibilities of ridiculous ideas as actually plausible? Veritas would kind of teeter on that when it comes to kids and their imagination. I just can't help but imagine kids crawling all over him while he has a rubber duck in his hand and explains like.. hawking radiation to a kid who's just staring blankly at him.

Honestly, kids would love him. Hes the strange, serious man who always bends down and tells you really confusing but fun stuff about things and seems to know everything. To them, hes the "actual adult".

I imagine, in the case a lost child approaches him or him with his s/o, his first instinct would be just to gauge the general state. He'll simply watch as you pick up the kid and coo at him and all the willy nilly stuff, just glancing over and checking for injuries, signs of anxiety or confusion, frustration, or fear. After he's done looking over, he'd try to ask the child about where their parents are when they perk up about how both of you are their parents now.

Well.. he doesn't know how to respond. You see his eyebrows raise slightly at the kid's remark, but he brushes it off, and starts telling the child all about your embarassing history if you were the rebellious professor!s/o. If you aren't, just about any silly memories he has of you are at the tip of his tongue, and that you really aren't suited for a parental figure. Even if you try and shut him up, he'll simply turn to the kid like, "do not let those who oppress you, silence you." Or something lol.

He doesn't mind the child being all over his s/o, telling them how pretty they are, asking them if they want to be their parent, and so on. Kids are silly, and illogical. It's in their nature to say anything that comes to mind. Of course.. he's slightly sour inside that your conversation was cut short, and now the child's hogging all your attention, but he vehemently pushes it down, simply resolving to search for their parents with you.

It's not soon before the both of you finally find them. Veritas gives them a stern, subtle warning about losing their child while you comfort them, bidding your farewell. It slightly annoys Veritas when the child clings to you, refusing to let go, and all his parents do is laugh it off, saying "they're just very social!" Or something. He has better things to be doing, really. He just walks off and lets you take care of things from there.

If you ask him if he's jealous, he won't say anything, and stare deadpan into your eyes before shrugging it off and changing the topic back to what you both were discussing before. Both of you can have more productive conversations, really.

Although.. his thoughts teeter a bit, and he shortly ponders over what kids with you would be like.. would he want children? Maybe one.. or two.. or even three..

Ugh, he's thinking too far ahead. He resigns to simply paying attention in the present, and listening to you ramble instead.

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cal-flakes · 1 year ago

Note

hi! is it okay if i get an imagine (or hcs!) of dealer!rafe getting asked out by super popular/pretty!reader? i know he'd be in disbelief lol

╰┈➤ asking out dealer!rafe

warnings: alcohol, light swearing.

summary: rafe’s taken by surprise when y/n, the naive, kook princess asks him out.

“i think i’m gonna do it..” she giggled, sipping her drink as she eyed him from across the bar. “are you crazy? that’s rafe cameron! he’s a fucking psycho!” her friend argued, glaring at the girl who sat opposite her.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know everything about him was just a rumour, right?” y/n huffed, scoffing at her friend’s judgmental behaviour. “they weren’t rumours y/n, why do you think he disappeared for so long? it wasn’t just because he wanted a break!” she snapped, exasperated.

“just because you listen to every little thing anyone tells you, doesn’t mean it’s true bethany!” y/n spat back, falling back into her seat in disappointment. “and so what if he did some bad shit! people get second chances!”

“people don’t get second chances for murder, y/n” her friend replies flatly, rolling her eyes. “oh shut up, rafe cameron is not a murderer! we went to school with him!” y/n retorted in a hushed tone, quickly becoming aware that he might’ve heard the whole thing.

“sure, okay. do what you want, it’s your funeral..” bethany muttered, quickly gulping down her drink as if the argument had exhausted her. holding her head high, y/n pushed away from the table as she narrowed her eyes at her friend.

weaving through the numerous tables surrounded by people, y/n quickly readjusted her hair as she walked up to his table, quickly counting the heads crowding it. fortunately for her, it seemed to be only rafe and barry at the same bar tonight, unlike the majority of the time when he’s surrounded by people desperate for drugs.

stepping up to the table, she cleared her throat, swiftly drawing the pairs attention away from what looked like a rather serious conversation.

“oh hey, uhh y/n? isn’t it?” rafe asked politely, turning to face the girl who began to crumble under his stare. “yeah, y/n. we went to school together..” she spoke sheepishly, hopefully jogging his memory. “shit! yeah of course, i remember you, always hanging out with that other girl, um, bethany?” he exclaimed, nodding at barry as if to clue him in.

both rafe and y/n turned to glance at y/n’s now empty seat, earning a sour look from her friend, who rolled her eyes once more before turning away. “yeah, that’s bethany..” y/n replied, let down by her friends actions.

“anyways..” she started, looking down at rafe, who leant back in his chair arrogantly. “i was wondering if i could buy you a drink? i noticed yours was a little empty..” she mumbled, her previous confidence suddenly fading away.

both rafe’s and barry’s eyebrows lifted, a shocked expression settling on their faces. “ooo! you got girls fallin’ at your feet now country club!” barry hollered obnoxiously.

“fuck off man- uh, yeah of course” rafe grinned charmingly, pushing himself from his seat. “great!” y/n beamed, stepping away slightly to give him space.

he held his arm out around her waist, yet never touched her, simply guiding her through the bodies queuing at the bar. making room for her, his eyes inspected her timid frame as she slipped through to a sudden gap along the bar stand, letting herself be caged in between his veiny arms.

“how about, i buy you a drink?” he offered, smirking down at her. “that wasn’t the deal!” she squeaked, smiling up at him sweetly. “nah, it wasn’t, but it could be?” he suggested again, tilting his head in amusement.

“hmm, what if…i let you buy me a drink, and you give me your number?” she asked, bowing her head quickly. “but then you get two things, and i get no things?” he laughed, closing the space between them quickly as a few drunken bodies passed behind him.

sucking in a harsh breath as the sudden closeness, she pulled her lip between her teeth nervously as her cheeks began to flush.

“you were the one who suggested you buy me a drink instead!” she exclaimed, swatting at his chest playfully. “plus, you could always just get a date with me to make up for it?” she teased, resting her back against the bar counter.

“you know how to negotiate huh? got a smart one here..” he mocked, chuckling slightly. “but uh, yeah, sounds good. so i give you my number, and you call me..let’s say, tomorrow?”

“tomorrow it is!” she giggled, watching as his attention diverted to the bartender coming their way.

“perfect, now, what are you drink darlin’?”

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xcherricutie · 9 months ago

Text

🪷 it's over, isn't it 🪷

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.4k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, mentions of alcohol and drinking]

[Notes: I am just churning these out, these are so easy and fun to write lol]

It was an understatement to say you fell after everything. It was more like you crashed and burned, any semblance of a life in Heaven disappearing after your attack on Hell. You had quite literally raised Hell in Heaven, tearing your way down into the depths just to get your revenge. You had struck down the Princess of Hell, nearly erasing all of her memories, had her friends not helped her. And in the end, you backed down, your guilt finally catching up to you. You thought if you had let your anger control you, you would easily be able to kill Charlie and her friends. But the more time you spent in Hell, the more your anger ebbed away, leaving an empty shell in its place.

In the end, the story remained the same. Your happy ending faded from view, and Charlie remained the hero of the story, along with her father, Lucifer. You were nothing but the bad guy, just another person standing in the way of the true story. Everything felt like a game to you, and you had to figure out how to climb your way to the top, to win. Losing this fight to Lucifer had dropped you all the way down to the very, very beginning. You had nothing. This time, you didn’t even have any friends. You were all alone. Or so, you had wished. Oh, how it was quite the opposite, actually.

When you were cast from Heaven, Sera and Emily made absolutely certain that you didn’t end up in some rotten corner of Hell. Oh no, they had you fall right into the lap of Lucifer himself. They had begged and pleaded for him and Charlie to take you in, try to redeem you. Or at the very least, take care of you. It was what you deserved, Sera had said. Charlie was immediately all in, happy to have you despite what you had done. You had nearly wiped the demonic side of her clean, which would have ruined her life and stolen her memories. Yet, she happily accepted you with open arms, literally. She squeezed you in an almost deathly tight hug, promising to make up for what had happened to you. After you had shown her your memories, Charlie had become especially clingy to you, to make sure you were happy, that you weren’t lonely.

The other hotel residents didn’t take to you as kindly as Charlie. Vaggie hated you with every fiber in her being, which you didn’t blame her for. Angel Dust and Husk both would team up on you and constantly remind you of what you had done. Alastor had been about as normal as you expected him to be, but you did notice he was rather pushy about information on your past, of which you indulged him none. Knowing he was either coveting your soul, or information on Lucifer, you tended to keep your distance from him.

As for Lucifer himself, you hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in the week you had moved into the hotel. You didn’t want to speak to him, not after everything. Not after what he put you through. It was hard enough not getting to have your happy ending, you didn’t need him rubbing salt in the wound. Just his smile alone was enough to sour your whole day. And it seemed others knew that too, as Angel Dust would constantly question your relationship with Lucifer, and what it used to be like. Knowing it would end up getting back to Charlie, you kept quiet on the finer details of your past with him. Nobody, not even Charlie, knew he was once your husband in the eyes of Heaven. All that mattered now was that he was a nobody to you, a stranger.

Your life in Hell hadn’t been all that bad though. Aside from Charlie forcing her friendship down your throat, you had actually managed to make one friend in the hotel, and it hadn’t surprised anyone a single bit when it happened. Adam, First Man, died during the exterminations, had become your closest friend in Hell. You could barely tolerate his attitude, but relating to him when it came to getting the short end of the stick was fun sometimes. You could spend hours with Adam, talking about how shitty Hell and the hotel was, getting lost in drinks and partying all night long. It was the first time you had genuinely smiled in the last ten thousand years.

Tonight had been one of those nights. You and Adam stayed in the bar long after Husk had retired for the night. Drinking away afterlife’s issues, listening to music, talking about everything and nothing. Adam could talk a lot, and you were happy to finally listen to someone and just bask in their presence once again. But the nightly hour began to crawl up, taking its toll on you. You let out a soft yawn, leaning into the bar.

“Adam, I’m pretty tired, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” You muttered, your voice slurring slightly. Adam hardly paid you any mind as he chugged his drink, giving you a thumbs up.

“’Kay, ‘night, bitch,” He mumbled back, keeping his attention focused on the drinks that melted away his memories. You sighed, pushing yourself off the barstool, making your way back to bed.

Your body felt sluggish, dragging behind you as you walked down the long, never-ending halls. You didn’t remember the hallways being so long. You groaned sleepily, trying to steady your body as you pressed a hand to the wall, letting the surface lead you down the hall. You leaned your weight onto your palm, barely picking your feet up off the floor. You were so tired. Tired of living here. Tired of eternity. Eternity was simply too long.

You let out a yelp as the wall disappeared from underneath your hand, stumbling to the side and into the open bedroom doorway you had tripped up on. Your eyes snapped up to try and identify whose room you had fallen into, your gaze falling upon the open balcony door. The red light of the sky streamed into the room, making your eyes blur with sleepiness. Rubbing them, you leaned against the door, squinting your eyes at the person who leaned against the balcony railing.

“I was fine with the men, who would come into her life now and again,”

A familiar voice sung a soft tune, instantly sobering you up. Your vision cleared almost immediately, the sight of Lucifer holding a red rose making your throat close. He sighed, bringing the rose to his face, letting the petals tickle his skin.

“I was fine cause I knew that they didn’t really matter until you,” His voice was somewhat breathy, as if he were on the brink of tears. You had to wonder what had pushed him to such a point, curious as to whom he was singing about. You found yourself planted in his doorway, watching as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the petals of the rose.

“I was fine, when you came, and we fought like it was all some silly game, over her,” Lucifer took a deep breath, looking up into the deep red sky. “Who she’d choose. After all those years, I never thought I’d lose...”

Pulling his hat off his head, Lucifer squeezed the brim tightly in his fist, before dropping it on the floor. Holding the rose with both hands, he stared out into the bright lights of Pentagram City, the lights reflecting and glimmering in his eyes.

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” He leaned into the railing, standing on his tiptoes, threatening to tip over the edge at any second as he reached out into the city lights. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?”

Dropping back down onto the heels of his feet, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain his emotions. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone,”

You watched with wide eyes as Lucifer’s wings sprouted from his back, giving a soft flap and lifting him into the air. His shoes landed on the edge of the railing with a soft tap, a shaky sigh coming from within him. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Lucifer looked down at the red rose in his hand, the thorns breaking the skin of his palm. Golden liquid pooled in his palm, soaking the stem, staining the petals, giving it an otherworldly glow. He glared at the sight, his emotions pooling over, overflowing.

“War and glory, reinvention, the garden, freedom, her attention,” Lucifer walked along the edge of the railing, his body tipping back and forth between threatening to fall over and sinking back into his room.

Your brows furrowed deeply at the mention of the garden, fingers digging into the doorframe. Was he singing about Lilith? You knew he and Lilith had split, Lilith disappearing over seven years ago now. You had even accidentally let out a laugh in Lucifer’s face when Charlie had told you that fact, furthering the man’s sadness. Not that you felt bad about it.

But now, a sickness began to twist within your gut, making you want to hide away and never be seen again. He missed Lilith. You shouldn’t have been as upset about that as you were. If anything, you should’ve been laughing at his misery. But it only left a souring taste in your mouth, bile threatening to come up.

“Out in daylight, my potential, bold, precise, experimental,” Lucifer smiled as the memories of a time gone by came and went in his mind. Back when he still fought for his dreams, back when he wanted to give humanity the greatest gift imaginable. If only he had known just what his gift would entail, maybe things wouldn’t be like this today. “Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her,”

You turned your back to Lucifer, unable to continue listening to his depressing serenade anymore. You glanced back, eyes wide to find Lucifer lying on the balcony’s edge, as if uncaring what would happen to him should he fall.

“What does it matter? It’s already done, now I’ve got to be there for her redemption,”

Your whole body froze, blood going still in your body. Even your heart seemed to quieten down, barely thumping against your chest. Surely you hadn’t heard that right. Surely, he didn’t say redemption. Your redemption. He was singing about you.

Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, trying to understand what was happening. Why would Lucifer, the man who abandoned you for ten thousand years, sing about missing you? You scraped your memories for any reason he would suddenly miss you, wondering what you had done to earn such attention. You had purposely been avoiding him, you thought you had taken the proper measure to never form another connection with that demon ever again.

Your mind drifted back to what you had been doing before stumbling across Lucifer’s room. You had been spending time with Adam, the man who, apparently, Lucifer stole everything from. Lucifer had stolen both his wives, Lilith and Eve, and had made an eternal enemy out of the man. You felt the air in your lungs hitch in your throat, realization washing over you, drowning you in misery once more. Lucifer was jealous.

“It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?” Lucifer closed his eyes, leaning over the inner edge of the railing, dropping onto the floor, landing on his feet with a thud. He held the rose to his lips, ignoring the cold feeling of the breeze brushing past his face, teardrops falling down his cheeks and drenching the rose. “It’s over, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Isn’t it over?”

He turned to face the city once more, the bright lights reflecting in his tears. He furrowed his brows in frustration, squeezing the rose tight enough to snap the stem. “You won, and she chose you, and she loved you, and she’s gone!”

Lucifer threw the rose over the edge, the golden shimmer of his blood glittering as it poured like rain. He watched as the glitter disappeared in the bright city lights, his tears drying against his cheeks. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Looking down at the teardrops that had fallen to the ground, mixing with the droplets of blood dotting his balcony floor, Lucifer sighed deeply. “It’s over, isn’t it? Why can’t I move on?”

Silence filled the air once more, with the occasional sniffle from Lucifer as he wiped his teary eyes on his sleeves. He looked down at his hand, the shallow cuts already beginning the process of healing. Clenching his hand into a tight fist, he turned around, his energy fizzled out after his burst of emotions. He had just so happened to see you spending another long night with Adam in the lobby, and everything within him finally snapped.

Turning around to retire to his bed, Lucifer’s eyes widened as they instead found you standing in his doorway. You visibly flinched, your blood running cold. You should’ve left long ago, but you found yourself stuck in place, watching the man before you break down. Now he was faced toward you, and the air suddenly felt suffocating.

Without thinking, you whipped around, taking off running down the hall. Your sleepiness was replaced with a sense of panic, your feet thundering down the hall as you ran as fast as you could. You heard Lucifer’s voice, calling out to you, begging for you to wait, but you didn’t dare stop. You didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. You didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to the desire for older times. You knew, deep down, that if given the opportunity, you would willingly sink back into Lucifer’s hold, allowing yourself to be vulnerable to him once more. You also knew it would never end well.

So, you ran. And eventually, you no longer heard Lucifer calling and chasing after you. You made it back to the safety of your room, curled into your bed, and passed out. You didn’t want to be awake and present in the moment, not when he could show up at any moment. You just wanted everything to disappear.

And yet, you couldn’t get his voice out of your head, even long after falling asleep...

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #Spotify

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rubylace · 1 year ago

Text

heeseung — birthday surprise

wc! 2,886

special. It's been a month since I wrote all my imagination-kidding i mean the day this acc was created yeay. a bit excessive lol.

The day had been rough. Your dad had scolded you for being too wasteful in your savings not realizing it was your birthday. You were upset, feeling overlooked and forgotten.

But Heeseung noticed.

You just kept quiet, why should he scold you, at least you want to be congratulated, didn't ask him for money or gifts.

"Hey, let's get out of here," Heeseung suggested, seeing the sadness in your eyes. He was busy with work, but he knew you needed a change of scenery.

He took to apartment, a place that always brought you comfort.

As you entered, you noticed the lights were dimmed, and there was a soft melody playing in the background.

"What's going on?" you asked, looking at Heeseung with curiosity.

"Just follow me," Heeseung replied, leading you to his room.

As he opened the door, you gasped. His room was beautifully decorated with fairy lights, and there was a small cake on the table, complete with candles.

"Happy birthday," Heeseung said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry your day started off rough, but I hope this makes up for it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Heeseung. He had remembered your birthday and gone out of his way to make it special, despite his busy schedule.

"Thank you, Heeseung," you said, hugging him tightly. "This means the world to me."

After the emotional surprise, Heeseung pulls out a chair for you and lights the candles on the cake.

The soft glow of the fairy lights and the flickering candlelight create a magical atmosphere in the room.

"Make a wish," Heeseung prompts, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You close your eyes, make a wish, and blow out the candles. The room erupts into applause - Heeseung's applause. You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Okay, time for presents," Heeseung announces, pulling out a small, beautifully wrapped box from his drawer.

You unwrap the gift to find a delicate necklace with a pendant in the shape of your birthstone. It's simple yet elegant, just like Heeseung's love for you.

"It's beautiful, Heeseung," you say, tears welling up in your eyes again. "Thank you."

Heeseung helps you put on the necklace, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You spend the rest of the evening in his room, talking, laughing, and creating memories.

As the night draws to a close, Heeseung pulls you into a warm hug. "Happy birthday," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. "I hope this day was as special as you are to me."

"There's one more," give you a recording. "Here are some songs to sing if you miss me just play it. it's just for you."

"I'll play it now". Your words make him flustered and closed the recording cover. He quickly refused.

"Don't.. don't do.."

But you just laughed. "Why? This is also one of my wish". Idea of teasing him.

He was still blushing.

"Alright alright, besides, this isn't the first time I've heard you sing. Your voice is good, you know that too right?". Try playing it back

He averted his gaze. "I said just turn it around when you miss me."

"I miss you everyday."

"You such a flirt huh?". While tickling you. "Hehe, I can also be like this cause I was taught by you."

"Me?". Pointing to himself. "My babie really amazed me today."

"Is your mouth made of cotton candy?". Getting closer and making you squirm. "Don't tickle me haha".

The day lasted until the night filled with jokes and laughter.

And with that, your birthday comes to an end. Although it started off on a sour note, Heeseung turned it into one of the best days of your life.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung x oc #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #heeseung x female reader #heeseung x male reader #enha #fanfic #enhypen ff #enhypen soft thoughts #heeseung soft thoughts #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines

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anthonys237thfreckle · 4 months ago

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I've been NEEDING some Javi & Scott angst, like the first night when Javi and Kate didn't set up the panel? (feel free to do romantic or platonic 🙏🙏)

I WROTE THIS BUT I DIDNT SAVE THE DRAFT

anyways here it is! i dont really write for scott but after a lot of research, i finally did! i rly hope this is okay lmao. Not the best at character x character, but theres a first time for everything!

i’m pretty inspired so i’ll write some javi x reader angst after this lol (i have sm free time until august 12th guys KEEP EM COMING)

please read the plot modification below, enjoy!

I love you, it’s ruining my life - Javier ‘Javi’ Rivera x Scott

prompt: Javi and Scott get into a heated argument

plot modification: Javi and Scott are still dating here!

TW: argument, mention of PTSD, getting shamed for PSTD, an explicit hand gesture, swearing

On the way to meeting Marshall Riggs, Javi and Scott’s investor, the tension in the car was thicker than the humid air in Oklahoma this summer. Neither said a word, Javi had his jaw clenched as he gripped the steering wheel, tight as a vice, his veins on his forearms showing. Scott looked out the window, chewing on his bottom lip, fiddling with the sunglasses in his hand, trying not to snap them out of pure impulse.

Scott’s mood was as sour as the unripe blueberries he’d grow to resent at the supermarket, chiding Javi for not being able to pick out produce; it was these little things that made him toxic - Javi was growing irritated.

Though, he was no saint either. Often biting back in arguments on how Scott grew to despise homosexual couples who lived perfect, happy lives with accepting parents in an accepting environment, how he can ‘never truly be happy for people who deserve it’.

Their relationship was hanging by a thread, and it was being teased by a razor.

Kate Carter.

“I still think we should head to El Reno” Javi said, shattering the silence “You know, Kate and I were talking-”

“Oh my god, do you ever shut up about her?” Scott snapped, turning his head sharply to meet his even sharper gaze. Javi looked at him with bewilderment, and Scott rolled his eyes

“You really trust her word after she lost that picture perfect storm, Javi?” Scott said bitterly

“It wasn’t her fault” Javi said firmly, turning to meet Scotts gaze with his own equally sharp one.

“She got super overwhelmed, that storm brought out some bad memories for her” Javi explained for what felt like the hundredth time for him. He was tired of having to defend his best friend from his boyfriend, and Scott had been getting on his nerves more than he cared to admit. Just as he thought Scott was done being a prick, he only proved he wasn’t.

“Well, someone should keep their emotions in check” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Javi looked at him, a storm in his eyes.

“Okay, Scott, what the fuck.” Javi said, having enough of him. The anger and hurt was coursing through his veins, slipping into his tone.

“She has no goddamn ‘instincts’” Scott said with air quotes “She used a god damned dandelion to track our first storm.” He said, Kate’s more traditional ways clearly being judged by his more scientific ones.

“She grew up here, she knows what she’s doing” Javi defended “You know, Scott, you’re being a dick to her” Javi said, unimpressed. he turned his attention back to the road.

“We were real close in college. I know Kate, she has a god awful lot of potential” Javi said in a low tone, his message almost a threat.

“You should just date her at this point” Scott replied coldly. Javi was hot with rage. “Why is it whenever some straight, pretty girl comes along in my life you get so goddamn jealous?!” Javi snapped “She’s my best friend for god’s sake. We’ve been through some serious shit together” “So you think she’s pretty?!” Scott said, equally mad now.

“You know what?” Javi yelled, in a dangerous fury “Fuck you, Scott. I’m done. With you, with Storm Par, with exploiting innocent lives and being unethical.” He slammed on the breaks, unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car, not sparing a glance at Scott, who was surprised, but didn’t fight it. The relationship wasn’t worth fighting anymore.

It was ruining their lives

“Yeah, go run off to your girlfriend!” Scott yelled back at Javi, who winced. He wanted to say that his relationship with Kate was purely platonic, but he didn’t want to give Scott the satisfaction of pissing him off with his remark. But then again, by yelling back, he’d get the satisfaction of making Javi defensive.

So without looking back, Javi raised his fist, lifted his middle finger, and held it out for Scott, walking away on the dirt road in the opposite direction. He didn’t know where, he didn’t know for how long, he just knew he needed the air.

#foryou #fyp #tumblr fyp #anthony ramos #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #twisters #anthony fucking ramos #javi rivera #javier rivera #scott twisters #twisters spoilers #david corenswet #javier x scott #javi x scott #angst #homosexuality ftw

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ayyy-pee · 1 year ago

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Hi lexi! I just finished Strangers in Love and it’s so beautiful that I just don’t want to let it go yet! Would you be open to maybe writing a drabble for Reader x Nanami in this story? Like when they first started dating in high school? I’d love to learn their history

Thank you for all your great works! ❤️

omg anon i'm sooooo sorry it took me so long to get back to you! i'm barely crawling out of my slump lol but i hope you like this. it got a little more angsty than i intended but it felt a little fitting for them idk T_T. hope you enjoy!

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: You and Nanami take a trip down memory lane.

Genre: Divorced to Lovers AU

The tension is thick in the apartment as you and Nanami set down the final pair of small boxes you'd retrieved from your storage space on the coffee table. Satoru is over for some reason, lounging lazily on the floor. Without a word, you and Nanami take a seat on the sofa, a good amount of space between you two. The boxes sit there, untouched in the silence. Satoru's eyes dart between the two of you before he leans forward and peels the tape off of one.

"I take it therapy didn't go well..." Satoru sighs, pulling out the contents of the box.

An understatement. It's been quiet like this since you and Nanami had returned home from one of your couples therapy sessions. After a very intense session going over the reasons for your initial divorce, you both left feeling...honestly? frustrated with each other.

Where you felt justified in how you handled the divorce situation, Nanami disagreed. He'd of course apologized for what you felt contributed to your first marriage’s demise, but felt he would have been willing to work through things had you come to him, had you waited for him to be in a better headspace.

Where Nanami voiced how he felt things could have worked out differently, you disagreed. You didn't feel there was a way to work past your issues at the time, Nanami being too stubborn and "too tired" to ever listen.

There didn't seem to be a way for you two to agree. And so, your therapist gave you homework. Your assignment? Go on a walk down memory lane together. Apparently you and Nanami had a habit of dwelling on the negatives when it came to discussing your divorce. It was a sore spot for you both.

You'd left therapy, annoyed and in a sour mood, muttering to Nanami to take you to your storage space where all the pictures, gifts and memories…your entire relationship with Nanami stood frozen in time. And Nanami, in as sour a mood as you, agreed. You'd arrived home to find Gojo sprawled out on your floor. Who even knew how he'd gotten in there? At this point, you just assumed he could move through walls.

"Ewwww, you kept this?" Satoru whines, pulling a picture of him, Nanami and you in high school from the box. It's a selfie of the three of you, though Satoru should’ve never been in it. You reach forward, taking the tiny photo from your friend and Nanami closes the distance on the sofa, scooting closer to have a good look.

You remember it well, the first picture you'd ever taken together.

High School Years

It had been a little under a year since you'd transferred to Jujutsu Technical High School for your Junior year and you were still adjusting to how insanely difficult the curriculum was. You were lounging beneath the shade of a tree during lunch period with Nanami, quietly chatting about how damn hard your physics lab was. Nanami listened patiently, humming to indicate he was paying attention to you as he flipped through your physics work.

You're waiting for your friend, Haibara, to get out of class, the one who'd introduced you to Nanami in the first place. You all made plans to meet, but he was running behind and this was honestly your first time being alone with Nanami. You'd worried you wouldn't have anything to talk to him about. Mostly because Nanami was always so quiet, hardly spoke a word to you even with Haibara around. Also because despite his silence, you had the biggest crush on your blonde, sidebanged friend of a friend. Though you could never bring up the courage to say anything about it.

Mainly because Nanami felt wholly unapproachable. Even so, you were surprised at how easy it was to simply...exist together without Haibara as a buffer.

Nanami's eyes scan over your classwork and after a moment of silence, he closes the book, placing it gently into your lap which makes your heart feel like it's trying to crawl out of your chest.

"If you'd like..." he begins quietly. "I can help you study the material. I'm pretty good at physics." He stares down at his legs laid out before him, a faint hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "I could come by your dorm tonight? We can study in the common room...if that's ok."

"Really?" You tried not to sound too excited at the prospect of spending more alone time with Nanami.

"I'd be happy to."

And for the first time since you'd met Nanami, you saw the tiniest bit of a smile appear on his lips. Your eyes widened, heart pounded, cheeks heated when you saw how beautiful the boy before you truly was. Now you wore a goofy smile of your own.

"I'd like that, Nanami."

He squirms briefly in his spot before he clears his throat. "You can call me Kento."

"Kento..." You test his name on your tongue, smiling when you see Nanami now staring at you, eyes wide, noticing the now red tips of his ears. So cute. "Thank you, Ken-"

"Awww, look at the lovebirds," an annoying voice you'd grown accustomed to teased. You sighed, looking up to find none other than your school nuisance looming over you, Satoru Gojo grinning down at you. "Should I take a pic so you losers can remember your first date?"

And before you could reply, he snapped a selfie of you three; you and Nanami still sitting on the ground and Gojo front and center, two fingers up to make a peace sign. He spun around, laughing when he saw the pic before he turned his phone to show it to you both. "Man, I'm sending this to Haibara. He'll love it."

Next to you, Nanami stands. "Speaking of, I need to get to class. I know Yu has your cell number. Is it okay for him to give it to me?"

"Oh, I can just give it to you now?" You offer, an attempt to delay his departure.

Gojo interrupted. "Oh, yeah! Gimme your number, too since we're all sharing." His thick, round sunglasses slipped down the slope of his nose, one of his freakishly blue eyes winking at you.

Nanami scowled at the upperclassman. "It's fine. I'll get it from Yu and will text you to meet up later. I have to get to class." He sneered at Gojo one last time as the snowy haired man settled down in Nanami's spot under the tree. "Try not to be more unbearable than usual, Gojo," he gritted out, making Gojo chuckle next to you.

You did get a text from Nanami that night. You'd met up to study, which was mostly you sneaking peeks at Nanami's beautiful side profile as he sat as close as he could to you, dragging his finger along your physics workbook.

Beneath the table, where you both gripped the edges of your seats, Nanami's fingers brushed against yours. The sudden contact made you jump. But Nanami didn't react, still explaining something about 7s and 3s. You weren’t listening. You brushed off the touch as an accident, until you felt Nanami’s finger on yours again. Just his pinky, gently running over your knuckles before he stopped when you didn't move. Nanami continued going over the study materials as if nothing happened, the red hue on his ears returning and you suddenly realized this was his tell. He was nervous, embarrassed. Just like you.

Heart in your throat, you reached your pinky over and brushed it along his knuckles, his reaction immediate as he linked his pinky with yours.

Above the table, your eyes met, words lodged in your throat as you held hands with no one in the world aware except you two. Nanami's phone buzzes and it takes him a few seconds to tear his gaze away from yours before he picks it up. He tells you it's a text message from Haibara, so you lean over to see. There's a photo attached.

Yu Haibara: How's the study date going?

The tips of Nanami's ears redden even more if possible, and he quickly brushes his long golden strands over them. This makes you giggle beside him.

Yu Haibara: Gojo sent me this earlier and I meant to text it to you.

1 Image Attached

Nanami opens the photo, the selfie of you, him and Gojo taking over his screen.

"Cute," you whisper, the grip of your pinky tightening around Nanami's under the table. He doesn't say anything. He taps the screen, probably sending a reply back before he gets back to studying.

At the end of the night, as Nanami packs his belongings back into his bag, his phone buzzes again with a message. You spare a quick glance at his screen, doing a double take when you see his phone background. It's pixelized from the zoom, a little blurry, but it's definitely you beneath the tree that afternoon, rolling your eyes as Gojo took the picture.

That night changed everything for you and Nanami. Group outings soon turned into date nights, study sessions to makeout sessions, awkward smiles to shy kisses. All of it with Nanami, your first boyfriend, your first husband, your first love.

Present Day

Satoru has now dumped most of the box’s contents out. You and Nanami have joined him on the floor, you sitting between Nanami's legs with your back pressed against his front.

"Oh my god, Ken, do you remember this one?" You hold up a photo of you both at prom, awkwardly holding each other in front of a tacky background. Nanami is wearing a smile that looks almost painful, and you with your obnoxious blue eyeshadow are beaming.

Nanami chuckles behind you. "Yes, I do. I remember Satoru spiking the lemonade and Yu vomiting everywhere."

You throw your head back with a laugh. "Yeah, right after he found us making out on the side of the building. Threw up the second he saw us..." You recall between giggles. "So rude."

Across the table, Satoru shifts the contents of the last box around. "He would've loved to see you guys workin' it out." He mutters. "Miss that kid sometimes."

"Me too," you and Nanami say in unison.

"He knew I loved you before I did," Nanami says solemnly, thinking of Yu. "He would've never let us get to the point we did."

You nod, remembering the wide, contagious smile of your first friend at your new school. And it brings you back to the beginning of you and Nanami, who you would've never known without Yu.

Haibara, who helped you navigate your relationship early on and hilariously guided you through your awkward stages with Nanami.

The picture reminds you of the first time you'd held hands in public. It takes you back to your first kiss outside of your dorm room after seeing a movie with Nanami, the first time you'd made love. It pulls back all of your first memories of your early stages with Nanami. The picture reminds you of when you'd moved in with Nanami. Makes you think about all of your ups and downs and what inevitably brought you back to each other.

It reminds you of Yu, who listened whenever you argued with Nanami and pushed for you both to make up. He knew you belonged together, even if you didn’t know it yet. It was Yu who brought you together, and Yu who was ultimately reminding you all these years later to remember where you began.

You lean back into Nanami's embrace when he holds up another photo; this one is of you two at your first wedding, both wearing big smiles. By that time, Yu had been long gone. But you made the most the day just the way Yu would’ve wanted you to. You couldn't wait to start your lives together, to be together forever.

You didn't know what the future held back then. But you know what the future holds now - a love withstanding time. A love that survives. A love that you know you both would fight for no matter what this time.

This force of nature, this strong, pure, burning love that never left either of you, even when you were miles and prefectures apart. It was what brought you together again, the reason you both were willing to try again.

Nanami kisses your head, breathing into your hair. "I want to keep looking through these, but I want to talk about therapy later. Really sit down and talk, okay?"

You nod, eyes still glued to your wedding picture and your heart swells knowing that one day soon, you'll be doing this all over again with the man you've loved for as long as you can remember.

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screamingintothestarss · 2 months ago

Text

wildflowers (part ii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x f!reader

chapter rating: gen

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication, some angst, almost kissing, sorta cheesy love tropes lol, emotions are complicated

word count: 2.1k

notes: i am so so sorry for the late updates, i’ve had like two projects and an essay due. it’s also midterm week for me! however please enjoy!! ╰(▔∀▔)╯

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spread the cloth across your face, rubbing at pink blotches of makeup sitting pretty on your cheekbone. You think that maybe if you scrub hard enough, you can wipe away the memory of tonight–of him.

He was so casual with her, so easygoing and flirtatious, and it left you feeling all soured and rotten. He never flirted with you, never throwing you that sly wink and smile you’d seen him give other women. Would you want that, though? To have another guy lick his lips, eyes gliding along your curvature just to see you as another score? The feeling is like a vibroblade in your gut, twisting and screwing its way into your stomach, spilling out dead butterflies and buried feelings.

“You almost done?” a tinny voice raps on the door and you jump.

“No, not really,” you grumble, and you try really hard not to let her have it. You’re already trying not to drown in the murky depths of your emotions, and the last thing you need is your pushy roommate pulling you under.

You take a long hot shower to soothe that ache in your chest, much to her chagrin.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What's wrong with him?” Wrecker whispers rather poorly in Crosshair's direction.

“I'd bet it's that girl of his,” he rasps, toothpick bouncing between his lips. Despite the bite in his tone, he can't peel his gaze off of Hunter, those brotherly gears in his head starting to turn. Sure, he'd seen him upset before, like that time he'd cut his hair after losing that bet, or the time he got ghosted by that one girl, but this felt different. It felt like an axe to his chest, hacking away at muscle and bone–it made him hurt. He wished he had the words sometimes, an answer, even, but those circuits weren't wired correctly either.

Echo's were, however. He always seemed to know what to say and said what needed to be said. He'd cut you open to the core and patch you right back up afterward.

Crosshair taps around on his comm and in no time Echo emerges from his bedroom, adjusting his prosthetic.

No other words need to be exchanged: it's a silent agreement, an understanding built over years of brotherhood: tight-knit like a warm sweater.

Echo hums and takes a seat beside Hunter, the leather cushion dipping under his weight. Crosshair and Wrecker quietly clear the room, leaving the two brothers alone.

Hunter doesn't stir, still stuck in the thick fog of your perfume.

Echo gives him a once over before speaking up; "What happened, Sarge?"

"You know I don't care for that nickname, Echo," he laughs, and it's strained, the soreness in his chest pulling it taught.

Echo's brow relaxes. At least he wasn't plagued by that all-consuming grief, the kind that leaves you gutted and slack-jawed.

"You went to that party one way and came back another...my guess is it's something to do with her?" He says it rather bluntly, like a heavy box falling onto the ground with a thunk.

Hunter meets his eyes and nods. His jaw circles, and he clicks his tongue.

"She saw me with someone else," he breathes, "It wasn't...it wasn't like that."

Echo nods, understanding melting onto a stony expression. Hunter didn't need to explain anything further, never with him.

"A miscommunication, then. But I'm guessing she wasn't up for talking about it, eh?"

"No. She wasn't." It's flat and grainy between his teeth, but there's a buried longing there; he just needed to sift through the sand.

But maybe you didn't want to be found.

Maybe he should keep you buried, letting granules of sand and dust fill in the cracks of what could've been.

What the hell was he thinking?

Echo sees him falling into his thoughts–dark, deep, and treacherous; but his next words reach out to catch him.

"Do you like her?"

Hunter pauses and hits the replay button on his memory. …Do I like her?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Quadratics are pretty simple," you explain, "First, you want everything in standard form, then you need to plug in all your variables and-" you pause, meeting the brown-grey eyes boring into yours.

"Are you even listening?" Your voice is like spice to his ears, and he doesn't think it's an addiction he wants to shake.

"I'm always listening to you," he says cooly, and you can't pinpoint what's behind his eyes. It makes your stomach recoil nonetheless. You blow, holding your head down so he can't see the red and pink hues bleeding onto your cheeks.

He definitely notices.

How couldn't he?

He's unconsciously mapping your features, scrawling them onto some blank page in his memory. Truth be told, Tech had already taught him everything he needed to know about mathematics, piercing that thick skull of his. But Hunter allowed himself to admit that he simply wanted to spend more time with you, emptying what he could and letting you fill in the rest: all flowery and saccharine-sweet.

He lets himself slip away for a moment, getting lost in that hazy scent you're always wearing. It's funny; he wasn't one for perfumes or smells in general, but something about yours had him inebriated, stumbling over formulas and equations. You meet each other's eyes, hues swirling together like paints on a palette, and he's tempted to create something beautiful.

He leans in closer to you, sealing in that distance that's been driving him up the walls. Like that evening at the dinner table, you're both magnetized, unable to pull away, and you're about to seal the deal when-

“Hey, I think I reserved this room?” a sharp voice sounds, cutting through the line keeping you both tethered.

“Sorry!”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“I like the way these ones glow,” you say, eyeing a beautiful array of bouquets and arrangements. You and Hunter are stopped in front of a flower shop, its colorful exterior bouncing with pretty plants from all over the galaxy–some of these colors you swore you’ve never even seen before. An elderly Pantoran woman exits the shop, the door sliding open with a ding!

“Looking for anything in particular?” she squeaks, her voice small and frail much like her stature.

You peer at her and shake your head kindly, “No thank you, we’re just looking.”

“Nonsense! There’s plenty more to look at inside!” Her veiny blue hand tugs at your arm, pulling you through the door, and you look back at Hunter whose expression is a mix of amusement and…nervousness? He trails behind you both, hands tucked into a red and black letterman jacket.

You ooo and ahh at the various arrangements decorating the shop, but one in particular catches your eye. Sharp for her old age, the woman’s eyes sparkle as she follows your gaze, and then she’s got that iron grip on your arm again, whisking you away to the back of the shop.

You’d never seen anything like this before. The arrangement is nothing short of gorgeous; dark blues, violets, pinks, whites–a myriad of hues that has you clutching your heart. Its bioluminescent glow reflects in the whites of your eyes like shooting stars, and Hunter watches planetside, transfixed on how your features are framed in the underglow.

He doesn’t know what to make of the feeling settling in his stomach, all warm and sweet and comforting. He’s staring at you, and he can’t help but to think of that one painting in that art gallery you dragged him to: what was it, again? It was really, really colorful…like…like a field of-

“Felucian wildflowers!” The woman tells you, her wrinkly smile edging ear to ear.

“They’re beautiful,” you sigh.

“Yeah…” Hunter breathes, paying no mind to the flowers adorning your frame. “Beautiful.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What!?”

You’re laughing, a mix of amusement and disbelief that has Hunter fiending–a line under the ocean’s surface, he’ll keep reeling you in until it snaps.

He scoffs, “Don’t believe me?”

You psh, your frame lazily laid out on the hood of his speeder. “I’m supposed to believe you and Tech used to drag race?”

He mimics you, getting cozy on the hood before looking back at you. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You meet his eyes and try really hard not to get lost in brown and grey hues, afraid you might never find your way out again. You’re staring at each other, laid out under a starry sky and the white glow of the moon. It’s as if the light is cradling you, he thinks, holding you with the same adoration he’d give a piece of himself for.

“I believe you,” you speak up, and it’s breathless, the heat of want wafting through your lips.

“Okay.” It’s all he says before moving closer to you, head all stuffy as calloused hand reaches out for soft skin to-

The chiming of his comlink yanks him straight back into the parking lot, met with a low groan and your giggling.

He does little to hold back his eye-roll as Wrecker materializes onto the comm, his blue figure fizzing in and out.

“Sarge!” The cheerful nonchalance in his tone relaxes Hunter a bit; at least he didn’t start another kitchen fire.

“Yeah?”

“We're about to start movie night! You comin’?”

Hunter internally curses; he'd been too wrapped up in everything you that movie night had completely slipped his mind. He knew Omega wouldn't want to start without him, and the thought of her waiting up for him pricked at his skin like thorns.

“We're on our way-” The words slip from his lips before he can catch them, and his eyes flit towards your frame.

“Huh? Who's ‘we’?” Wrecker raises a thick brow, slowly putting the pieces together. “Haw! You're with your girlfrie-!”

Hunter closes the channel.

An awkward laugh stumbles through your lips, rolling around in the tension. You try to keep a cool facade, a blank canvas that he won't be able to paint on, but the way you're fidgeting gives him a few colors to start with.

You're reeling, brain jumping around in your skull trying to find somewhere safe to land; We're on our way.

Four simple words, yet they hold the weight of a thousand stars. We–us. Is that what he thought of you? As a part of him? A cog and screw working together to power this machine of fondness creeping up between you two? It has you feeling so secure and tender, yet terrified.

You start to remember the shameless looks and wandering eyes tearing him apart on campus, and it leaves you feeling sick.

Your thoughts wander into someplace creaky and dark, grimy and lifeless. All that sweet heat you'd just felt is swept away by the brittle winds of doubt.

You remember how close she got to him on the desk, running a hand over his shoulder like you weren't sitting right there.

Sick

You remember the one who'd throw her hair back, trying to pry his attention from you. They'd been…involved before, and you remember having to suppress that anger boiling in your gut.

Sick, sick, sick

You don't know how to feel or what to think. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume his intentions are pure, and you know they are, but it's why you're so confused. That fear creeps up your neck, and you try to shoo it away.

“Did you want to come?” He’s asking you, and it pulls you from the muck–but you're still covered in that grime.

“No, I'm okay,” you breathe, and it’s heavy; weighed down by spindles and thorn branches.

He doesn't press you any further, but he's worried. Did Wrecker's words scare you off? Was he sitting too close? Was…was it something you'd want? His head’s spinning, caught in the hamster wheel of conflicting emotions.

He could finalize it right now if he wanted: confess to you what you've already etched on the foundations of his heart, slaying that beast of confusion.

But he can't risk it.

So he plays it safe.

“My frat's throwing a party on the first…I'd like it if you could be there.” He regains that cool huskiness in his voice, and it's got you hot all over again.

You breathe, and try not to let those chilly winds blow you into oblivion. You decide to face toward the sun and give into that warmth; that of trust.

“Okay.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Hunter?”

He bristles, and the lenses in his eyes adjust their focus, finding Echo’s concerned expression.

“Sorry Echo, I-”

“Do you like her?” He repeats, his tone less weighty this time.

Hunter exhales, briefly looking away. He knows they both know the answer; he may as well have tattooed it next to the skull on his face. Saying it out loud seemed so final: like ink to a page, there was no room for error–no eraser to smudge the truth away. But that’s exactly what it was: the truth. And Hunter wouldn’t lie to you.

“I love her.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

–

#once this week is over i will begin working on the final chapter!#again so sorry for the wait aaaaa #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #tbb hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter bad batch #the bad batch x reader #clone x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter/reader

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lunarflux · 1 month ago

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⥈ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖕𝖙 𝟏 [𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖗𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC | Daemon Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

X: There is a dark soul in the Red Keep who toys with the strings of fate and tampers with the bonds it holds. She frays at its edges, knowing that with a simple word she could sever it entirely. Aemond has found a soul that mirrors his, and she fills the cracks in his core with molten gold. Though he isn't the only one who craves the solace she provides - or the pleasure she withholds.

Note: This has been edited into third person omniscient, and the word count has been doubled. I think it's safe to say I should stick to what I know lol

Word count: 2,2k

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It was a curious silence that fell over the Small Council whenever she arrived. Queen Alicent who, even in her youth, never looked at Lethira without suspicion eyed her as she sat down, claiming the seat that normally would have been claimed by Lord Corlys. Her lips formed into a bloodless line.

The pangs of sour memories had yet to cease their needle-like assault on Alicent’s chest. Every time Lethira would appear, all she saw was the same grin – the same, conniving smirk – that plagued her youth. Rhaenyra was her friend, but Lethira was far from it. And while their interactions back then were never purposefully unpleasant, it was almost as if Lethira knew things, had intentions, that Alicent was always painfully aware of. For whatever reason, Rhaenyra was not. And if she was, she either ignored it or welcomed it. Alicent never knew which.

Alicent saw. It was impossible not to. She saw the inevitable effect Lethira had on those around her. They all turned. They all stared. The attention could have been ignored, but it was the way her childhood ghost somehow made the room turn cold while setting it ablaze with her words. No one knew how to challenge her, for when they tried, it was in vain. She was too cunning. She held thoughts and opinions that silenced even the Hand of the King.

"Lethira," Alicent said her name with a heavy sigh. Regardless of her worries, she still found a way to hold herself strong. She would not have a cold memory from her youth plague her life as a queen. "I understand Small Council is still very new to you. However - "

"- I am well aware of when the Council meets, Your Grace." Lethira's response was quick and sharp, not with the preciousness of adolescence, but with the certainty of a dark chill. "I am here as a courtesy to inform you I cannot stay today. I have other pressing matters to attend to."

"And what -"

“Perhaps, you should consider installing one of your sons in my place of this Council if you are in need of a body to warm a seat.” Lethira cocked her head to the side, her legs crossed one over the other in a manner that allowed her black gown to expose the faintest flash of skin. She loved these silent battles with Alicent. The way her brow would twitch with concern. It was the same, even back then.

Alicent had no time to argue before she stood with a facetious curtsy.

It had not been long since Lethira's arrival that she started to pick away at the many shadows that haunted the Red Keep. Some shadows, however, followed closer than others.

Daemon, sly as ever, always seemed to be around every corner with his signature grin. If Lethira spoke and consequently removed the tongue of a curt Lord with a single word, he would smile again. He kept his distance – only barely. And when he didn’t, the conversations always teetered on something she recognized as playful teasing. It was a foolish attempt to understand her (and her motives), and yet she welcomed it all the same.

How entertaining.

“Avoiding your duties again, little serpent,” Daemond appeared just as the doors to the Council shut behind her. He tilted his head towards her with his eyes narrowed as if he still had not grown used to the image of Lethira as a woman and not a girl. “Lord Corlys might think you absent in his place.”

Lethira enjoyed the way he looked at her. Yes, it was a face and an expression she recalled from her youth, but it was also the same way he looked at Rhaenyra. Whether he was aware she saw it (even if Rhaenyra didn’t), she didn’t care.

“Alicent has done her duty to keep me mute. She needs a seat filled and sees no use for my opinion no matter how rooted in logic it may be.”

“So, I am correct. Loose loyalty does not suit a Lady, Lethira.”

She leaned in close until the scent of leather and sea salt trickled over her cheeks. Daemon didn’t back down, maintaining his composure in the face of her firm stance. Lethira parted her lips, just enough for him to see her tongue run across her teeth.

“Am I still a ‘little serpent’ to you, Daemon?”

There was a flicker – only barely noticeable – to flash across his face. A young Rhaenyra challenged him in similar ways, but as the years passed, there had been no other to speak to him in a way that felt like it was laced with fire. The low rumblings of her taunting turned his lips upward, and cast his gaze down to exposed flesh below her collar. Supple and rosy, he wondered if she tasted just as sweet.

Lethira took two steps back with her hands folded behind her back. She tilted her chin down, looking up at him through midnight lashes. “There is no loyalty in that council. Only rigid greed.”

“And do you not also feel the euphoric sting of greed?” Daemon chuckled. The scent of her sweet perfume beckoned him closer, but he stood firmly. “I thought I knew you better.”

“I do not feed the greed of others, my Prince,” she whispered, lips puckering ever so slightly. “Only my own. I suppose you and I are alike in that way.”

“Always the fire-starter.” He raised his head. “You always were a dangerous one.”

“One of us must hold the flame to the throne. Now that the Princess shares your marital bed, I see that your light has dimmed. She always did pull your attention. Whether or not I burned just as brightly back then will always be a mystery to you. I am not snuffed out so easily.” Lethira's gaze shifted. “Unless you believe that your nephew carries the torch where you cannot. Maybe his flame matches mine.”

There it was again – the flicker – except now it was the distinct sign that she'd hit a nerve. Daemon’s jaw tightened, and his grin faltered. He hated mentions of Aemond, and Lethira knew. The one-eyed prince was the only other shadow she cared to notice, and whatever attention she paid to him irked Daemon in ways that amused her. It wasn’t a matter of seeing who would fight for her. She wanted to know who would break beneath her pretty fingers.

Who would break, who would break first, and who would shatter.

The trysts with Daemon never ended with a farewell. By now Lethira grew used to simply walking past him, and always, she felt his eyes follow like a predator learning the habits of small prey.

This was the new game, and she learned to play it well.

⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈

The hours of politics wore Lethira down just enough to the point where her mask faltered. It was only then that she excused herself, and she always managed to evade her escorts no matter how hard they tried to follow. She walked slowly throughout the Keep. The moon rose high above the courtyard, and the Lords and Ladies retreated to their chambers. It was only the King’s Guard that remained, and when their eyes traced the line of her waist, she would glance – only once – and force them back to attention.

Lethira walked on until she found the room she often found the most solace – or perhaps, the most entertainment.

Aemond stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him as he looked out over the bay. His silver hair glinted in the moonlight, his posture rigid as always. Lethira leaned lazily against a marble column, watching him with a sly smile—like a dragon on watch that knew exactly how much her presence unsettled him.

Another game.

This was of a different kind than the one she played with Daemon. So different, and yet so much sweeter. Aemond’s silent anguish and curiosity tasted like liquid frost while Daemon’s felt like a blistering fire. Where Daemon’s stare followed her in the open, Aemond’s followed in secret. She wanted to tug at him if only to see where he’d bend. Where would he fold – would he fold at all? The fall was inevitable. From her brief time in King’s Landing, Lethira observed what others overlooked. He was far more pensive than most, and he was seen as strong enough to be left alone by the Queen.

What a waste, she thought. He was yet another dragon trapped in a prince’s mortal cage. Something about his latency intrigued her.

"Still brooding, Aemond?" Lethira teased with her voice only loud enough for him to hear. "You'll bear a hole in a moon if you stare at it any harder."

He turned his head slightly. "And what brings you skulking out here, Lethira? Tired of the revelry already?" His voice was low, calm—dangerously so. With Aemond, every word felt like a sword piercing the fragile veil of fabric on skin, honed to precision.

She stepped closer, her silk gown rustling softly against the stone. "You of all people would recognize a skulk. I needed a moment away from dull courtiers and their duller politics."

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing back into his stoic facade. "Funny. I thought you thrived on politics. And the subtle prying of men’s faults."

"I do," she admitted, her gaze flickering over him like a cat sizing up its prey. "But I find this much more interesting."

Aemond shifted, his intense gaze locking onto hers. "Do you enjoy this? Pretending like our meetings are a coincidence?"

"Perhaps it is just a coincidence. Isn’t that why I have your favor," she countered smoothly, closing the distance between them. "You like danger. And you crave control. It’s the uncertainty of knowing it is I who has the control that unnerves you."

A muscle in his jaw tightens, but his eye never left her, circling over the hint of a flush over her cheeks. "You think you know me so well."

"I do," she murmured. "Because I find myself... Intrigued. By you." Her voice softened, and in that brief moment, the mask slipped—just a little before she caught herself. The rigid wall returned quickly. "I simply wonder if we are allies... or enemies."

Aemond’s breath caught—just for a second, almost imperceptible. "And what would you have us be?" he asked quietly, his voice edged with something dangerous. Desire, perhaps. Or regret.

Lethira leaned in, lips brushing just close enough to be felt without touching. "Depends," she whispered. "What are you willing to give me?"

His hand snapped out, catching her wrist—not harshly, but with enough force to make her heart skip. For a moment, they were locked in a silent standoff, the tension between them a live wire.

His grip said, You won’t control me.

Her unflinching stare replied, Watch me try.

And then, just as quickly, he let her go.

“Do you grow tired of toying with my uncle already?” The venom flowed freely in Aemond's voice. Just as Daemon detested his name, Aemond loathed Daemon’s. The constant push and pull over – not only the power in the realm – but over who had the least amount of stakes in this game with Lethira. Aemond wouldn’t dare sit to wonder how invested he was – or if he was invested at all. Something about her and the way she spoke unnerved him, but the rumblings in his chest told him this was not the fear he had grown to tame into force. This was something entirely different.

“And why does my time with Daemon bother you so?” Lethira hummed a low sigh as she slowly circled around him. “He sees me as the image of the girl Rhaenyra was, only now a woman. My time away from King’s Landing allowed me to grow. Not change. I do not control the urges of a tempted man. You give me too much credit.”

"You think too highly of yourself, Lethira," Aemond murmured, though his eye lingered on her a moment too long.

She stopped in front of him and tilted her head, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "Perhaps. Or maybe you don’t allow yourself to think highly enough of me."

Aemond stepped back, giving her space—but not before brushing his fingers along hers, the briefest, most deliberate of touches. It was a warning. And a promise. She wondered if that was all the indulgence he could stand to allow himself. That was all he allowed himself to give to her – a touch. How long before he crumbled before her and gave more?

"You’ll have to work harder than that," Aemond whispered.

Lethira's smile deepened, the challenge sparking something electric in her veins. "Good," she purred. "If you made it too easy, I would’ve grown tired of you."

Aemond gave her one last look, something dark and unfathomable swirling in his gaze. And then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her standing alone beneath the stars.

But she didn’t mind. Not one bit. Because she knew—this is just the beginning.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond targaryen #fanfiction #fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen #aemond x reader #daemon x reader #The Bloodletter lunarflux #Lunarflux

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lillian-gallows · 1 year ago

Text

Take Me Back to Eden

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Reader (V)

Warnings: Reader is V, No use of V, No use of Y/N (Don't get used to that from me lol), Cunnilingus (F receiving oral sex), P in V sex, Fluff with a little bit of angst (because V/Reader is a dummy and so is Johnny), Vaginal fingering, use of pet names (Bright-eyes and baby), alcohol consumption.

Summary: V/Reader is in love with the reformed ghost in her head, but she's pretty sure it's just her, oh how wrong she is.

GIF by: Keanuphile

Notes: I finished the game, I'm not okay, so I'm writing fanfiction about it. Cross posted to AO3

Minors DNI

The tequila burned as it raced down your throat, so did the whiskey chaser that followed it. The music of The Afterlife was pounding in your ears and brain as the liquor took hold and made your muscles relax, jaw no longer clenching quite so tight.

You caught Claire’s eye and lifted the empty glass in a wordless request for another, which got a nod of acknowledgement in return, but she was already with a couple of customers so it would be a moment. That was fine. You were nothing if not patient.

So patient that you managed to get yourself stuck in a loop of waiting for the reformed ghost in your brain to realize you’re in love with him and had been since you helped him go on a date with Rogue, like a gonk, and knowing he probably never will, or if he does figure it out, to care enough to act on it.

You’d seen his memories. Know what loving Johnny Silverhand does to a person. Yet here you are, as if one almost death sentence wasn’t enough for you.

There was a split second, when you were carrying each other out of Arasaka HQ, when you thought he might have felt the same. You’d fallen to your knees, legs refusing to keep going, and he’d gripped you tight and said you needed to get up, that he couldn’t leave without you, that he needed you.

At the time you’d thought there was something else there, the way he’d said it sounded so…Soft. But now you’re pretty sure it was the adrenaline and your grey matter still reeling from Alt fucking with it to give you your body back that made you cling to your hopeless desperation for the man you knew you couldn’t have, not in the way you wanted him.

“You stare any harder at that shot glass and your Koroshi’s’ll shoot lasers.” Came Claire’s voice, yanking you from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted back in your seat while the other woman refilled both glasses. “Thanks.” You said before throwing the first one back.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Bartender asked as she leaned on the counter, giving you her full attention. After helping Claire resolve her business with Sampson, you both got closer, close enough that you felt comfortable telling her about Johnny and the Relic. Johnny had teased you about the attraction you had felt toward the other woman, but it was nothing compared to what you felt toward him.

“Gotta be paradise for that to happen.” You answered before shaking your head. “Nah, just me being a gonk, like always.” You said it more to the glass in your hand than the woman in front of you.

“You know, torturing yourself won’t solve anything.” Claire said lowly, so only you could hear her. “He hasn’t been to see Rogue since you both got back. From what you’ve told me, that means something.”

Your face was warm as you met Claire’s gaze, whether you were just that easy to read or Claire was using her magic bartender powers you didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. She was right.

“I’m not gonna be another notch in his belt.” You downed your remaining drink. “And I’m not going to follow him around like some thirsty little groupie.” It came out a little bitter, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t picturing Alt when you said the words.

You’re being unfair, you know you are. Alt loved Johnny for real, that much was obvious, so summing her up as something as simple as a groupie is cruel to the deceased woman, but you can’t fight the sour burn in your belly that threatens to turn you green.

Claire let out a sigh and shook her head. “Yet, that’s what you’re doing.” That gets a glare and Claire’s eyes are hard as she stares back. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right.” She steadies herself on the bar with both hands and she leans into your space. “You told me yourself that he hates when people beat around the bush. So fucking talk to him before you end up old, grey, and still pinning. Or worse, one of you dies again.”

That snaps you from your cloud of self-pity, but not in the way Claire was probably hoping for. “Whatever.” You grumbled somewhat childishly as you flicked the Eddies to pay your tab and got up.

You knew the other was watching you go but didn’t care to look back. She was right, and it pissed you off. Not the part where Claire called you out, you deserved that, needed to hear it even. The part that you hated was that you really were exactly what you didn’t want to be, a hopelessly in love groupie following Johnny around like a horny puppy, except without any of the payoff of you two actually fucking.

And the saddest part was that you would rather keep pinning than be fuck-buddies, you wouldn’t be able to keep feelings out of it and you don’t even want to begin to imagine being on the receiving end of some of the shit Johnny said to Alt, and he actually loved her…What hope would you have?

It was raining when you got outside, and you considered calling your car instead of taking Jackie’s bike, it had a rain cover and would be fine for a night, but you needed to think and you couldn’t do much of that if you were driving, so rather than either option you turned and started walking, would it take longer? Sure, but that was what you needed to think, or spiral, whichever came first.

The rain was quick to plaster your hair to your face and neck, trailing cold lines of water down your skin that caused goosebumps to bloom, thinking about how much you hated Johnny when you met, how much he hated you right back. You kept walking.

Then those trails of water along with new water falling on you soaked through your clothes and chilled you to the bone, thinking about when you realized you’d fallen for him, lying in bed the night after his date with Rogue with a pit in your gut but determined not to say anything about it, praying he couldn’t feel it through you. You kept walking.

After a bit your shoes began to squish with every step, socks drenched and pooling water in your shoes, thinking about what he’d said that night on the way out of Arasaka HQ, about needing you, he’d breathed the words like he didn’t want anyone else to hear them, like they were for you and you alone and it would be a crime for any other ears to hear them. You kept walking.

You started to shake as Megabuilding H10 came into view, harsh shivers that made your teeth chatter till you clenched your jaw to make it stop, but all that did was make the shakes move down to your shoulders, thinking about how your heart had grabbed onto his whispered plea like it was a declaration of love even though it was nothing of the sort. You kept walking.

A puddle formed under you on the elevator floor as the floor numbers flashed and ads blasted in your ears, but you weren’t paying them any attention, you couldn’t care less about Milfguard or whatever new flavor of Mr. Whitey’s was being screamed about, you were too busy buzzing with the warring hope and dread of the thought that he would be home when you walked through the front door. You stopped walking when you got to the door.

Your fingers hovered over the button that would open it, but you were frozen in place, a new puddle forming, water dripping from your free hand would echo if the atrium wasn’t so goddamn loud.

“You gonna keep staring at it? Or do I gotta move you?” Came the one voice you still weren’t sure if you wanted to hear.

Looking back, you met Johnny’s gaze, or rather your reflection in his aviators, God you looked like a soaked cat…

Rather than answer him you pressed the button and watched the door woosh open, walking in with him right behind you felt like being watched by a warden.

“Why the Hell are you wet? You look like you walked home.” He asked as the door closed behind him; you couldn’t look at him again.

“Cuz, I did.” There was no use lying, anything you could come up with was just as stupid as the truth.

You could practically hear him lift his brow. “The fuck you do that for? Vic still has both of us on probation, getting sick could be a fucking death sentence.” Annoyed disapproval drips from his voice the same water is still dripping from your hair.

“Needed to think.” You offered lamely as you made for the closet, intent on both getting dry clothes and not letting him see your face.

“About what?” He asks from by the bed, where you’d seen Nibbles lounging, but when you didn’t respond you heard him take a few steps closer. “About what?” He asked a little louder, either thinking you hadn’t heard him, or intent on not letting you ignore him.

“Lots of shit, Johnny. What? You want a fucking catalog of my daily thoughts? Didn’t get enough of that when you were in my head?” You snapped sharper than intended, but you just wanted to make him shut up.

You heard his footsteps once more, and before you could move or look at him, he was at your back. “Thought we’d moved past snapping at each other to avoid talking about shit.” His tone was hard but not cold, like he could tell something was up.

“It doesn’t matter…” Why did you sound so fucking small? You hated it.

“Bright-Eyes…Look at me.” His hand feels like fire when it lands on the icy skin of your shoulder, where he tried to turn you, but you resisted. “Please…Look at me.” Your heart stops, it’s like you can hear the words that haunt you all over again. “Get up. Please, I can’t leave without you. I need you…Get up.” Same tone, begging and just barely this side of desperation.

And like a sleeper agent that’s heard her trigger word, you turned, but you can’t lift your eyes to meet his, you know he’s taken off those damn glasses and you can’t bear to see his eyes looking at you, your heart will store it away just like those words, and you can’t handle yet another thing making you hope like a gonk for more than you’re allowed to have.

People like you don’t get to love and be happy, if they were, Jackie would still be alive, and Misty wouldn’t be alone.

As if sensing that you won’t meet his gaze, Johnny lifts his metal hand as his flesh one slides down to your upper arm, searing hot skin making yours tingle, even his metal hand feels warmer than you, a shiver of a different kind rolls down your spine and you want to yank yourself out of his hold, but his grip tightens just a little, like he knew what you were thinking, but then he probably did. You’d put money on it that he knows your every micro expression and what they all mean, which terrifies you if you’re honest.

“Go take a shower, you’re freezing.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face, smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, such a Johnny smell. He let you go to reach past you for the clean clothes you were going to grab and passes them into your hands.

As if a spell was broken, you moved around him to head across the room to the bathroom, but you could still feel his eyes on you. The urge to snip at him about watching you undress sat on the back of your tongue, but you swallowed it.

By the time you’re pulling your wet tank top over your head, you no longer feels the heat of his eyes on you, then you heard the radio turn on, some oldies rock station playing some ballad that you don’t recognize, but you hear him quietly sing along to it, for a nanosecond you think you hear more emotion in it than when he normally mumbled along with the radio, but shake the thought away.

The water feels pleasantly scalding when you step through the fog of steam and into the spray. Tilting your head into the warmth to wash away the chilled water still clinging to your hair, you hear his voice no longer melding with that of the radio, though you still hear the song playing over the sound of the showerhead.

Eyes closed to keep the water out of them, you feel his eyes on you once more, not as close as by the closet, but certainly not from across the room. Running a hand over your face to clear your vision you turned and were met with Johnny standing there looking like he’s debating something.

“Johnny?” You questioned, no real thought given to the fact that you’re naked, he’s seen you a dozen times since Mikoshi, granted all those where when you both were recovering and you needed help getting dressed, but it was all the same to you.

Hearing you say his name seemed to help him make whatever decision he was working on, and before you could react or say anything else, he was crowding into your space, both of you under the spray, drenching him in hot water. But neither cared about that, neither was thinking about that, not when his lips were pressed to yours so hard it’s like he needs it to breathe.

Your back pressed to the wall, his hands holding your face, rings rapidly growing warm from your skin and the water, metal hand doing the same, the coarse hair on his face rubbing against your skin, making the goosebumps that had long since settled return full force.

You kissed him back for all of a second before you realized what was happening and pushed him back, he put a few inches between your faces, but gave no more land than that. “Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?” You panted, looking up at him with a tentative look of hope that mixed with fear and it damn near breaks his heart to see it.

“Not making the same mistakes twice.” He answered, thumb brushing over your lower lip, clearly thinking about kissing you again.

Your heart seized in her chest again. “Stop it.” It comes out cold and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting it.

“What?” He’s dumbfounded, had be misread things? No way, he knows what he saw when he was in your head, what he felt.

“Don’t fuck with me, Johnny.” The hope in your eyes turned hard, a wall going up that he’s all too familiar with. “I’m not her.” Your voice is small again.

His shock melted away as understanding took its place. “I know. Never wanted you to be her.”

“Then what the Hell are you doing?” Your fingers had curled into the wet fabric of his shirt, so he can neither move closer nor pull away.

“I already said.” He answered before taking a slow breath. “I was shit when I had her and lost her because I was a fucking moron, and I did a lot of shit in her name after that that didn’t fix anything. I never deserved her, and I sure as shit don’t deserve you, but fuck if I’m not going to shoot my shot and try.” He said with the same conviction he had when he went on one of his anti-corp rants, only this was a lot softer, a lot less angry.

As he spoke, he watched the hardness in your eyes soften and that hope return, but it’s slow, you’re digging your claws in, trying not to get your hopes up, still waiting for the Gotcha “I won’t be another quick fuck…I can’t…I can’t be no strings…” It feels searing admitting to that.

He leans in once more, till his forehead meets yours, eyes unable to look anywhere but at each other. “Neither can I.” You can barely hear him over the shower, but you do, and your heart races.

Using the leverage of your hold on his shirt, you pulled him back in, mashing your lips to his in a messy desperate kiss that steals both your breaths, falling into him with slow tentative twists of your lips.

His hands trail down from your face, over your neck where your hair is plastered to your skin, down your body, avoiding every sensitive place that you crave his touch, to settle on your hips, pulling you closer and grinding against you.

He feels you shiver against him at the stimulation, little though it is, but he savors it all the same, right along with the way your beath hitches in your chest, he wants to hear it again, wants to hear more, wants to make you cry out his name and tell the whole megabuilding who you belong to.

He’s loathed to do it, but he breaks the kiss and slips his hands down to grip the backs of your thighs to lift you up, instinct taking over to wrap your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands slipping into his hair to twist in the strands, softer than one might expect.

A lazy hand shot out to turn off the shower before he left the bathroom, leaving a trail of water on the floor to the bed. Rather than toss you on the bed like you expected him to, he sits on the edge and settles you on his lap, and with you secured there his hands moved up into your hair to pull you into another deep kiss that’s all tongues and teeth.

You wonder if he can feel your heart racing where your chests are pressed together, your hands are shaking as they come to rest on the space where his neck meets his shoulders, fingers still twisted in the wet strands of his hair, unable to pull the away, scared you’ll float away if you stop touching him.

This is a dream; it has to be. But does that really matter? If it is then you never want to wake up, and if it’s not then you won’t have to.

The heat at the apex of your thighs had begun to ache, craving something, anything more from him. You don’t even seem to notice when your hips start to grind against him, and it pulls a hungry grin from him that breaks your kiss, and you make this pitiful little cutoff humming sound when he meets you halfway with his own hips, eyes rolling closed and face tilted forward, forehead to forehead.

He can’t take his eyes off you, never could. That used to piss him off, reminded him too much of Alt and how she made him feel, but this was different, both women pulled his passion to the forefront, but only you had ever made him feel like he was capable of being decent, like he deserved to be.

Now, as your breaths mingle, hips driving against each other like they’ll die if they stop, he can’t help but take in every minute detail, from the color of your lashes to the way the space between your brows crinkles as they draw together in desperate need to the panting breaths falling from your kiss swollen lips that he craves.

But there’s something else he craves even more.

Taking hold of you once more he flips you both, laying you on the bed beneath him, you don’t resist, all too happy to do whatever it takes to have more of him on you, around you, in you.

Your hair splays under your head like a halo and Johnny thinks that if you’re what God looks like, then maybe he was wrong not believe.

He hovers over you for a moment, taking in your face, your body, the way your chest heaves with every desperate breath. Then, when his forever limited patience runs out, he trails his hands down your sides, over your hips, and stopping on your thighs, strong and soft as they part so willingly for him.

Leaning in his lips follow a similar road as that of his hands, making detours at your tits to take a nipple in his mouth to suck and nip, making the flesh turn blush dark and your back arch up into him, a shuddery sigh passing from your lips. He could live the rest of his life lavishing your breasts like this, but the heat from between your thighs is beckoning him.

So, he continues on his path, pressing his lips to every new patch of skin he reaches till he gets to your hips, where he bites down till a pretty red, soon to be purple, mark blooms. Your hands thread into his hair as he marks you, but other than twisting into the strands you don’t do anything, needing the anchor more than anything else.

Settling between your thighs he’s met with the beautiful sight that is your glisteningly wet pussy, wanton and waiting for him to give whatever he will.

Ever the tease, Johnny leaves a couple more darkening marks on your inner thighs, watching your body tense in pleasure, before finally, finally, running his tongue over your aching heat, from bottom to top, where your clit is swollen and begging to be touched.

Your whole body jumped when he flicked his tongue over it, thighs trying to close on his head out of reflex, but his hands, strong yet gentle, hold them open as he latches on and sucks for only a second, yanking a gasp from between your lips.

“Fuck…” You breathed, sounding more like another reflex than an actual thought.

“We’ll get to that, Bright-eyes…Just let me take care of you…” He purrs against your flesh.

Trailing his flesh hand down your leg then back up again he runs his fingertips slowly around the opening of your beautiful pussy, it’s an almost reverent action, coating his skin before pushing one in, a slow and shallow in and out.

He was never really this gentle with Alt, she’d never wanted him to be, and Johnny’s pretty sure that if he asked you, you’d tell him the same to protect your ego, but the way your body was melting under him told a different story.

It told of a woman so used to being treated roughly, used to sandy winds whipping her face and sun scorched skin, fists and bullets, hard fucking and yanked hair, that all it took was a few gentle touches and sweet words and she was melting like so much ice in his hands.

It both warmed his heart and made it ache.

Soon enough he’d eased that one clever finger in enough to curl it up and brush against that spongy spot he was dying to see your reaction to.

It was everything he hoped it would be and more. Your cunt tightened around him sharply, your thighs did the same, but his shoulders didn’t let them get far, you let out moans and gasps that were nothing short of pure music. All those things he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected your hand to slip from his hair and fall down to where his metal hand was still holding your thigh to grip his fingers, a silent plea to let you hold it if ever he saw one.

So, he did.

Johnny wasn’t the type to hold hands, something so elementary just wasn’t his thing, but a lot of things weren’t his ‘thing’ till you, his Bright-eyes. So, he’d hold your hand, he’d never let it go if that’s what you wanted of him, he’d live and die by those digits wrapped around his.

And he slipped a second finger into you, giving you only a second to get used to the sensation before he was back to massaging your G-Spot with his fingertips, but that wasn’t all he did, he reattached his lips to your clit and ran over it with his tongue in circles, giving it the occasional suck to pull a jolt from your body.

You were like a livewire of coiled muscles and aching for release. Your eyes had long since fallen closed, unable to keep them open, gripping his hand like it was the only thing keeping you on this plain of existence, pussy gripping his fingers like a vice.

“Johnny…” You pleaded, high and just this side of a whine. “Please…” Your thighs were starting to shake as you begged, so very close.

But Johnny is a bastard, even when he’s being nice, so he has to tease you just a little more. “Please, what? What do you want, Bright-eyes?” He asked lowly, smirking against you. “Gotta use your words.” He felt you clench at those words, but he was already teasing you, so he’d address that later.

“…Please…So close…” You managed, sounding close to crying.

His smirk grew just a little more. “Then open those eyes and look at me. Let me watch you cum on my fingers.” He ordered, keeping you teetering on that edge till you obeyed.

Your gaze was foggy with pleasure and wet with unshed tears, it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire fucking life.

His eyes never left yours as he returned to your clit and worked it and his fingers till those tears slipped free, leaving wet lines down your face, but your eyes didn’t close, though it looked like you were fighting it with your whole being.

He watched as you teetered on the edge for all of a few seconds before plummeting off it in a show of dilated pupils, choked off moans, clenching muscles, hand white knuckle with how tight it held his hand, and trembling thighs, well, more like trembling everything.

But the thing that drew him in, the thing that made his chest feel tight and his cock jump in his jeans, is that your eyes never once, not for even a second, left his. Those endless portals of life stayed locked on the bottomless expanse of brown of his own eyes.

After a long several moments he had to break eye contact because he felt like he’d cum in his pants like a teenager if he didn’t.

Pressing a kiss to your thigh, still shaking, leaving a wet mark where your slick clung to his facial hair, then left a trail of such marks as he kissed his way back up your body, till he got back to your lips, where you met him halfway, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Neither let go of the others hand, but your free hand cradled his cheek like he was made of porcelain, your palm calloused from years in the desert and Solo work but still so soft.

You stayed like that, lip locked and sharing the same air, for a bit while you came down from your high, and when you were dragging him back down to grind against him once more, he pulled away just long enough to devest himself till he matched your nudity, then he was back again.

He didn’t need to ask if you needed a condom, he knew you had an implant, so he wasted no time lining up and slowly pushing in, taking it inch by inch because even Johnny knew he was too big to go in all at once like an asshole, and there were some lines he’d never cross, hurting his bedfellows was one of them, less they asked real nice of course, but there was time for that later, right now his Bright-eyes needed soft, and damn if you weren’t going to get it.

Your face twisted in pleasure as he entered, and a broken gasp fell from your lips. “I know, baby, I know…” He breathed before pressing his lips to your neck. “So good, fuck…” You were tighter than he expected, but he wasn’t shocked, you hadn’t had any partners when he was in your head, and you didn’t seem particularly interested in finding any after you were in your own bodies.

Your hand returned to gripping his metal one as soon as he was back on you, the other found its home on his shoulder where your nails dug in, the pinch of pain sent a thrill down his spine that made it harder not to thrust into you.

“Johnny.” You said in a breath, getting his attention.

“Hm?” He hummed against your pulse point.

“If you don’t move in the next three seconds, I’m going to do it for you.” You threatened, though with how hard you were breathing it was a loose threat at best.

He smiled, not smirked, not grinned, honest to God smiled as he looked down at you. Rather than make some smart comment, he did as you asked, pulling out to the tip then pushing back in, so slow it was torture for both of you, especially when your still sensitive walls fluttered around him.

It was slow, or at least slower than you expected, his build up in speed. A small part of you expected him to be rough with you, you expected him to fuck you, not this. There was no way to describe this but as making love.

Just as quickly as before that coil in your belly started to tighten, and Johnny seemed to see it immediately. “Look at you…” He breathed as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open. “Taking me so well, baby…So fucking well…” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you couldn’t help the way it made your insides clench.

Every roll of his hips had his tip brushing hard against your G-Spot, while the hair at his base kept a steady pressure against your clit, and that didn’t even cover what his lips and words were doing to you. Your whole body felt so hot you thought you might combust, but you didn’t dare let him stop.

Your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him in further, which served to leverage your hips up just right to have him pressing deeper, which you had thought impossible a second before.

You felt yourself once more on the edge of orgasm and he knew it, be it from the way you sounded or the way very part of you was clinging to him even tighter, he knew. “Shit…You’re so perfect…Gonna cum on my cock? Hm?” He hummed as much to himself as to you, probably to distract himself so he didn’t cum before you.

You couldn’t have answered him if you wanted to, it was all too much, too perfect, before you even realized it the coil snapped and you came hard, so hard your vision went white and you think you might have passed out for a few seconds because the next thing you heard was his voice rasping out your name mixed with several swears while his hips stuttered and you felt heat flood your insides.

He didn’t collapse on you the way other guys you’ve slept with had, he did lower himself enough to rest chest to chest, but his knees and free hand kept him propped up enough as not to crush you.

His face was pressed into your neck while you both caught your breath, and after a moment he pulled back to press his forehead to yours, eyes closed but it made him feel even closer, so you certainly weren’t complaining.

When both your breathing evened out, he opened his eyes and looked at you, finding you already searching his face. Trepidation was there at the bare edges of your gaze but seemed to be held back by the fact that he hadn’t pulled away or said anything shitty to you yet.

“You okay?” He said softly, quietly so as not to disturb the calm that had fallen on the room.

He watched your throat work around a swallow, and you nodded ever so slightly. “Yeah…” You breathed, voice sounding thick.

He gave your hand, still wrapped so tightly around his metal one, a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Bright-eyes…” He said, knowing you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.

Your eyes widened slightly and grew wet but before tears could fall you pulled him down into a kiss, this one was filled with a different kind of passion, it was softer, sweeter. “I love you, Johnny.”

He helped you clean up after that before going to bed, the radio still playing the same oldies station quietly.

“I have traveled beyond the path of reason…Take me back to Eden…Take me back to Eden…”

#johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand/v #Johnny Silverhand/Reader #Cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #x reader #one shot #smut

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writing-house-of-m · 1 year ago

Text

Photograph

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word count: 1895

Summary: When you and Wanda go through some old things at her family house, you recognise someone in an old photograph they have

A/N: Just a little idea I thought would be cute. I wrote this pretty quickly and didn't really edit it properly so I hope it makes sense lol Thank you @ageofevermore and @cuinaminute229 for helping my indecisive ass on the header. Any feedback or comments would be much appreciated, so let me know what you think!

There is a soft golden glow shining through the windows as the sun was beginning to say goodbye to the day.

Taking a break from packing wasn't supposed to be long but the small group of you have been too distracted to notice the time passing.

You came across the Maximoff family's old photographs that have been in storage. You couldn't help but flip through a photo album when you noticed they were of Oleg and Iryna's wedding day.

It has been an hour since then, your future in-laws telling you about the relatives who have shown up as you go through different stacks of photos, some they have always been close with, some have now passed and others who are best to avoid. It was a well needed heads up for when you will have to meet them on your wedding day with Wanda.

There are so many photos and recounts of the memories that go along with them; birthdays, anniversaries, family gatherings and all the moments in between.

"What happened to Pietro's hair!" You exclaim, noticing a gold fading (badly) into a red colour when you flicked to a new page in the current album you are going through.

Wanda looks at the picture laughing, explaining the memory, "He wanted to make his hair look like fire." Then she grimaces as her laugh dies out, scrunching her nose, "But he did it himself."

You both giggle at the messy result and the sour look on Pietro's face as Oleg squashes his cheeks together. You can tell he was forced to sit there while the photo was taken at his expense.

There was a reason you were initially going through old boxes from the attic of the Maximoff residence. You and Wanda have officially moved in together and having unpacked all the essentials weeks ago you decided it was finally time to get her final round of things.

They would probably just end up in storage at your new house but at least Wanda would have all her things in one place. You had already done the same with your things last week.

You hear the front door unlock, open and close signifying Pietro's return.

After Pietro greets everyone, he notices, "Old photos?" He reaches down and picks up one of the albums, "Have you finished with getting the last of your things?"

You and Wanda look guilty and shake your heads because you still haven't completed what you were here to do.

"Get a move on, I've got things I need to go up there," Pietro chastises.

Before you get to say anything, your future mother-in-law gets there, "It's about time you thought about settling down, son."

"Ah mama, it will happen when it happens. You can't rush these things," Pietro says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I hope things are going well with Monica. She's such a lovely girl," she says, handing him a box to put behind him. He puts down the album he is holding and takes it from her hands. "Better than that last girl. Mantis, she called herself," Iryna cringes.

"Mama!" Pietro exclaims to stop this conversation.

You smile at the scene, you don't have any siblings so you have been treating Pietro as your own brother when you and Wanda got serious and you grew more comfortable with her family.

Now that Iryna was done it was your turn, "Hey Piet, have you ever thought about dyeing your hair?" You ask. Pietro squints his eyes at you because of the 'random' question, "Maybe, err, yellow and red?" You laugh along with his family.

"Ah! I thought I got rid of all of those!" He furrows his brows picking up a different album from before, "Where is it?"

"You will never know, 'hot head'," Wanda responds. Getting a round of laughter.

He gives Wanda a side eye before looking through the album he is holding. Eventually he takes a seat opposite you and Wanda on the floor.

Pietro thinks aloud as he flips through the book he is currently going through, "Hey, I remember this place. We weren't there for long though."

Iryna looks at the photo over Pietro's shoulder as he holds it up for her. She hums, agreeing, "We weren't there for long, two months I think?" She turns to Oleg so he can take a look. He walks closer and nods his head.

He chuckles under his breath remembering, "My job at the time relocated me to the wrong place, it was such a mess and a huge headache."

"I think I remember that, we were even enrolled at the local school for a little while," Wanda adds.

Pietro notices another photo, this time one of Wanda and another student from said school. He passes it to her, "Do you remember this?"

"Oh yeah!" Wanda takes the image from him, "We got along so well. I missed them for the longest time after we moved," she reminisces. "I don't remember their name. I don't think I ever got it, actually."

"Such a good friendship you didn't even get a name?" Pietro laughs.

You finally look away from the album in your lap that has had your attention. Furrowing your eyebrows because you recognise the child sitting beside Wanda in the image, "How do you have this?"

All four Maximoff's look at you at the same time.

You feel the silence until Wanda explains, "I completely forgot but seeing this photo I remember making one friend in my last few weeks there." She points at the two figures sitting with cheesy grins and arms wrapped around each other. "I can't believe I forgot about my time there."

You are quite literally gobsmacked listening to the story unfold.

Iryna chimes in, "Well, school had barely started before we moved again. It's not surprising you don't remember."

"I know the name of the kid," you reveal. The others look in disbelief and wonder as you sit there smirking.

"Really? How? Who is it?" They all ask questions at once.

"It's me," you say with a breathy laugh.

"What?!" Wanda looks closer at the picture and even her parents come over to get a better look.

"No way," Pietro gasps as they all hover over the photograph.

"I told you where I moved from when we first met, remember?" You ask Wanda, getting her attention again.

"I didn't know the name of the place, look how small we were," she replies, pointing at the image.

Wanda then joins her family who are all mumbling different similarities between you and the child in the photo. You listen to as much as you can, chuckling to yourself pulling out your phone.

Last week when you packed your final things from your parents home you too had found old albums there. With everything going on, moving houses and planning a wedding, it completely slipped your mind to show Wanda the old pictures you had taken snapshots of when you were younger.

Putting the phone next to the photograph everyone compares the two. Wanda is speechless as she looks at you in the same disbelief you felt when you first saw the picture, "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I!" You scoff out.

"This is so crazy!"

"I know!"

"Nothing can stop a great love," Oleg speaks, stopping you and Wanda with your back and forth while he casually walks away. But you and Wanda smile at each other blushing a little because of his comment.

"We became friends so fast," Wanda leans into you, looking at the photo.

"Yeah," you speak into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "And then you forgot about me," you finish cheekily.

Wanda pulls away and smacks your arm. Then takes on an earnest look, "But seriously, I was so sad to lose you, I finally made a friend and a really cool one at that," she trails off.

"We still found each other again though," you say.

"Yeah, we did," Wanda says with a soft smile.

You lean against each other to look at the photo for a little while longer. Looking at the happiness and innocence radiating from your younger selves.

Unbeknownst to you, Pietro snaps a photo on his phone of the two of you smiling down at the captured memory. In his mind this was him getting his wedding gift sorted.

When you have been through the stacks of pictures, you eventually go back to packing the last of Wanda's things. It is all taken to your new place and you are both exhausted.

You decide to leave unpacking it all until the next day and when you do, you come across the photo again.

"Your mom must have put this in here," you smile at Wanda.

She takes it from you and instead of putting it in storage she places it above the fireplace. You make a mental note to buy a frame for it.

At the end of the day you sit on the couch after another exhausting day.

"Fourteen years," you say randomly. Wanda looks at you quizzically so you clarify, "I worked it out, us meeting again after that photo was fourteen years."

"Wow," Wanda breathes out, sitting against you as you wrap an arm around her. "I guess we were always destined to be together."

Wanda looks up at you making you look down at her. You share a small kiss and when you separate you continue looking at the picture.

You talk about how fate has brought you here and how thankful you are for finding each other again even without either of you knowing who the other was.

"I guess our love transcends all boundaries."

Wanda smacks your chest lightly, "You dork"

"Yesterday, you said I was really cool! You can't take that back!"

"That was before the cheesy one-liner."

"Well, you better get used to it. It will get worse when we get married. Not to mention the jokes I'll come up with when we have kids," you smile.

Wanda looks up at you again so you meet her gaze, "Hmm, yeah, but I think you mean 'kid' as in singular," you smile at her correction of the future plans you have discussed, "and a dog, of course," she says innocently.

"No, no, no, I never agreed to getting a dog. I said we could get a cat," you correct.

"Don't worry I didn't forget about Tom," Wanda says nonchalantly.

"Tom?! We didn't agree to any names yet either!"

"Are you sure? So where did I get; Wilma, our daughter, and Spike, our dog, from?" Wanda asks, raising a brow.

"Probably the same place you forgot about the best friend you ever had," you say pushing Wanda, forcing her to lay on the sofa with you carefully placing yourself on top.

You press your lips to her soft ones and because you are both smiling too much you have to stop. Instead, you settle with kissing the tip of her nose.

"And here I thought we would be making these big decisions together. We still have a wedding to plan first, you know?" You muse.

"Yeah, I know. But I can't help myself thinking of our life together," Wanda says, caressing your face.

Just as fate brought you together, it has a few more surprises for you as you continue your life together.

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