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huntingingoodwill · 3 months

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aren’t you gonna tuck me in? (j.m.)

masterlist

pairing: brat!reader x joel miller

prompt: goodnight kiss

a/n: a lil sumn for @janaispunk’s 1.5k kisses challenge!!! with a bit of a grumpy x sunshine dynamic smirk smirk... congrats babes 💕

“You crazy old motherfucker!” Your screams were tinged with laughter as Joel slung you over his shoulder, carrying you out of the Tipsy Bison.

“Who’re you calling a crazy old motherfucker?” Joel grumbled, locking his arm tight around your thigh and kicking open the door as he pointedly ignored your friends’ whoops and whistles.

You blew them a kiss before they disappeared behind the swinging door, at which point you gestured to the desolate road Joel had carried you out onto.

“Don’t see any other crazy old motherfuckers around.”

The slice of light that fell upon the road from the open door reduced into nothingness as it swung shut, leaving you and Joel awash in blue moonlight.

“If I’m crazy, it’s only ‘cause you drove me to the brink-” He paused in exasperation, landing a smack to your thigh that prompted a delicious, ticklish pain to shoot up your leg, and peals of laughter to come falling out your mouth,“will you stop wiggling up there?”

“Sure thing.” The saccharine words dripped off your tongue before you halted your movements, muscles slackening as you draped your dead weight over his shoulder.

“Jesus,” He huffed, suddenly exhausted as he had to literally shoulder the burden of your lax body. “Y’know what, just get down.” He said, quickly lowering you to the ground.

“Joel Miller, you are quite the party pooper.” You chuckled, stumbling to your feet.

He had stormed into the Tipsy Bison, locking eyes with yours as he pushed past a crush of people, causing your lips to twist into a smirk and your heartbeat to quicken in time with the beat of the warbling song blasting from the jukebox. He had barely given you time to shoot off a sly remark before he tossed you over your shoulder and whisked you away, an act much more interesting to you than the drunken conversation you were enjoying with your friends.

“I did not poop any parties.” He said, watching you stifle a laugh as you walked beside him. “Maybe you don’t recall, but we’re on patrol together tomorrow, and I am not gonna play nurse to you when you’re hungover on a horse.”

When Tommy had first put the both of you on patrol together, he had thought his brother was pulling some sick joke. He probably was. You had taken a particular interest in Joel whenever you saw him around Jackson, never failing to deliberately bump into him and engage in some teasing that would render Tommy helpless with laughter as Joel stood on, unamused.

As much as Joel hated to admit it, and as much as he felt he really was being driven crazy on his patrols with you, he had almost come around to it.

The gleam of your smile in those dark forests as you told him corny jokes around a crackling fire. Like sunlight peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

He pushed the thought away. Maybe you really were driving him to the brink.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes, gait leisurely besides his focused march down the road, “I’ve been hungover on that horse before and you never had to baby me. I just think you hate fun.”

“I do not ‘hate fun’.” He said, his monotonous drawl sounding pretty fun-hating, “...But maybe you were having too much fun. ‘Specially with that boy of yours.”

He regretted letting the words slip as soon as he said them, but he couldn’t deny the flare of heat that simmered under his skin when he entered the bar to see you laughing your head off with one of the guys that always seemed to trail after you around Jackson.

“Oh. My. God.” You said, a thin sheen of dust rising around your boots as you screeched to a halt.

“What?” Joel said, heart pounding as he whipped his head around.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not-“ Joel spluttered, heat blooming across his collar.

“I’m walking home with a green-eyed monster!” You grabbed him by the jaw, and Joel prayed you couldn’t feel the heat from his cheeks searing the pads of your fingers. You turned his head, prompting him to look in your eyes. He had to fight off the urge to melt against your touch under the intensity of your stare, his jaw clenching beneath your fingers.

“Nope. Not green. Still shit brown.” You said, killing the moment with a grin.

Joel shook you off, quickening his pace rather unsteadily as you continued to walk beside him.

“You’re obsessed with me. First, you’re carrying me out of the Tipsy Bison, and next, you’ll be carrying me over the threshold after our wedding." You laughed.

That made even more heat blossom in his cheeks, and he tried to push that image out of his mind as he cleared his throat, biting his tongue as he let you carry on.

“Don’t be too jealous, Joel.” You purred, slipping your arm through his, nuzzling up to him in a way that made blood roar in his ears, “That guy’s not really my type. I like older guys.” You placed extra emphasis on the last phrase, making Joel’s head swim.

After making him squirm under your gaze for a couple seconds, you burst into laughter.

“As mean as you look, you get flustered so easily. It’s adorable.” You said, punctuating the sentence with a coddling pout.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Joel grumbled, eyes trained straight ahead.

“It’s hilarious.”

Your footsteps trailed off as the both of you arrived in front of his house, staring at its squat silhouette in the dark.

You turned to grin at him, Joel shooting a sideways glance at you, debating whether or not to take the bait.

“What?” He mumbled, taking the bait.

“Miller, you devil. You could’ve at least bought me a drink before bringing me back to your place.”

He rolled his eyes, walking up the porch steps as you trailed behind him.

“Your place is all the way on the other side of Jackson. So you can either sleep here tonight, or we’ll spend another hour walking around in the dark.” He said, opening the door.

“Excuses, excuses.” You clucked your tongue, shaking your head with false disapproval, "As much as I'd like that long, romantic, moonlit walk, I am getting a little sleepy. I'll stay the night."

He held the door open for you, gesturing for you to head inside, a motion that you simply returned with an expectant stare.

“What?” He said, trying not to shift under your gaze.

“Aren’t you gonna carry me over the threshold?”

“Get your ass in the damn house.”

Your laughter rang, clear as a bell, through the sparse rooms of his house as you kicked off your boots, flouncing up the stairs as if you were right at home.

He heard the sound of his shower turning on and the syrupy hum of your voice over the splash of water.

He reached for your shoes, overturned and muddied, before straightening them and placing them next to his. Staring at the both of them next to each other, your voice ringing in his ears as you sang a discordant melody in the shower, a flicker of strange emotion shot through him.

The realisation he wouldn’t mind picking up after you, putting your shoes next to his. They would have a place next to each other, where they belonged, whenever you came home.

The realisation that he wouldn’t mind if your voice filled up every room in the house, where once he thought he was content with silence.

As he poured a glass of water for you and began carrying it up to his bedroom, he realised he wouldn’t mind bringing up a glass of water for you every night, and a cup of coffee every morning.

“I’m going insane.” He muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

“You decent?” He called out, knocking on his bedroom door.

“Hardly ever. Come in!” You sang.

The scent of his soap hung in the air, clinging to your skin. You grinned at him, a soft glow haloing you from his bedside lamp as you towelled water out of your hair, one of his flannels hanging off your frame.

“Is that mine?” He swallowed, the words flying out of his mouth so quickly they almost sounded accusatory.

“Yeah.” You turned to look at his furrowed brow. “What? I can give it back to you if you want.” You said, beginning to unbutton it.

He averted his eyes, that familiar heat shooting under his skin again. “Jesus- just- you can keep it on.”

You burst into laughter as Joel rubbed the back of his heated neck.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He mumbled.

“Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, your sincerely grateful, soft voice sending his walls tumbling down.

He cut his eyes at you one more time, a vision in his worn, old flannel, before making a move to leave.

You cleared your throat, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the quiet room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He looked at you, his deep brown eyes wide in confusion, a furrow set in his brow.

“Aren’t you gonna tuck me in?”

His cheeks reddened as he stared at you, swallowing thickly.

Hiding his trepidation behind an exasperated eye roll, he crossed the room. His hand, the skin rough in contrast to the soft blanket, pulled the fabric over your body, covering you. You smiled up at him, that evil glint in your eye that drove him crazy shining up at him.

“Goodnight kiss?” You whispered with feigned innocence, glancing up at him through thick lashes.

“Christ.” He whispered, heartbeat pounding in his ears, his heart somewhere between wanting, annoyance and restraint.

“Please?” You whispered, lips turning up at the corners into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He felt his resolve crumble to pieces, and he couldn’t resist. He leaned in, heartbeat kicking in his chest as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

He felt dizzy as he felt your hot breath against his ear, the soft skin of your cheek nuzzling into the scruff on his cheek.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whispered, lips ghosting his cheek, “you can do better than that, can’t you?”

He melted against your touch, barely able to formulate a smart retort before he felt your teeth digging into his cheek.

“Jesus!” He recoiled, the bite radiating with a dull pain.

“That’s for pooping my party, Miller.” Laughter bubbled from your lips as you watched him run his fingers over the grooves your teeth left in his skin.

“You’re fucking crazy.” His wounded tone just made you even more amused, your smile growing on your face.

“Don’t sulk.” You pouted, hand reaching up to skim a thumb across his cheek, and he couldn’t help leaning into your touch. “Let me kiss it better.”

He let you press a kiss to the quickly fading bite mark, his head swimming as your tongue darted out, giving him a playful lick before you laughed against his skin, breath fanning out over his cheek.

He turned his head, forehead pressed against yours as his nose brushed yours, his eyes screwed shut.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He mumbled.

“I know.”

He pressed his lips to yours, that strange, floaty feeling he had felt downstairs washing over him. You held him close, fingers entangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him onto the bed.

Lying on his back, he let you press your palms against his shoulders. He stared at the ceiling, feeling barely there, as if he could have just slipped away, your hands the only thing pinning him to earth. He felt it with every kiss you pressed to his lips, when your lips ghosted the line of his jaw, his neck. You were everywhere, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“All better?” You said, voice barely audible over the roar of blood in his ears.

“Yes.”

“Y’know,” you whispered, tracing the line of his jaw with your lips, “I just realised something.“ You looked down at him, the smile that meant trouble returning to your face. “We have a really early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Joel!”

Just like that, you had rolled off of him and turned off the light, plunging the both of you into darkness. He laid there, barely registering what had just happened, his body already missing your warmth.

He turned to look at you, your face slackened with sleep as your breath evened out, completely calm in the embrace of sleep as his heart still pounded in his chest, giddy as he turned back to stare at the ceiling.

He was definitely going crazy.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagines #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal

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highvern · 4 months

Text

Talk

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: oral sex/face sitting/69, prone bone, dom/sub dynamics (dom!reader/sub!hoshi), protected sex, impact play (spanking), mentions of butt stuff but nothing explicit

Length: ~ 4.3k

Note: this ended up way longer than i originally planned... by like 2k but im weak for sub hoshi. realized i accidentally made them schmidt and cece from new girl.... oh well. as always thank u @gyuswhore for suffering my horrible punctuation and EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER UP COMING HOSHI FIC FOR PIRATE HOSHI I DEMAND IT

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Soonyoung talks. A lot.

Sometimes it makes no sense. Like the occasions he calls you after a night out and slurs his words through the speaker as you hum agreement to who knows what until he passes out while still on the line, letting you hear every snore and smack of his lips until you hang up; or when he’s inside you and it's all a bit too much that he has to tell you how good it feels in excruciating detail; or when you both wake up in the morning, you late for work and him trying to talk you into keeping the sheets warm for just a few more minutes, and Soonyoung thinks he’s convinced you but fifteen more minutes really won’t hurt because his apartment is closer to your office anyway.

He talks so much that not hearing his voice the second he opens the door is like a slap in the face.

There's no invitation inside, or lukewarm greeting. The door hangs ajar, Soonyoung already back down the hall in the direction of his room with the expectation you’ll follow.

You do, but with the same hesitancy you’d approach a wild animal: curious and on edge.

Despite the hour, his roommates aren’t anywhere to be seen. No bodies sprawled across the couch or light under their doors. Their presence never stopped you before but it’s unsettling that there's no buffer of anything to break the storm cloud choking the atmosphere. Just stark exposure to whatever is clearly bothering Soonyoung that he won’t tell you about because, technically, you two don’t do that. Or, he does and you vehemently refuse all of it with less and less authenticity each time.

Soonyoung doesn’t prattle on about his day or ask about yours as you trail behind him. He throws off his shirt without a word, collapses on the edge of the mattress, and roughly pulls you into his lap. It’s cold and unfeeling and exactly the kind of sex you’d enthusiastically participate in a year ago. But nothing like the Soonyoung you’ve grown familiar with over the past few months.

He doesn’t comment on the low cut of your top, falling into the motions without the usual banter.

You wiggle free from his grasp, trying to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look at you before taking back up where he left off.

“Stop.” You push him back, trying to get a look at his face but he stays in the crook of your neck. “Stop.”

The silence that follows is loud. He collapses back into the bed, arms curling up to hide away from whatever is chasing him.

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“Could've fooled me,” you huff.

“Doesn’t matter. Not what you come here for anyway, right?”

A half truth that stings more than you’d like. It sinks in your gut in the quiet dark of his room.

“You know what? Forget I asked, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” he says, arms attempting to snake around your waist but you’re already up.

“No. You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Because you’re sunshine and rainbows all the time?”

“Did I fucking say I was? If you’ve got a problem with it you’ve had long enough to lose my number.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs heavily. “Bad day.”

You soften at the break in his voice. Stepping back over, you stand between his legs. He looks small, hunched over with his head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The light you’ve come to associate with having him within reach is gone and all that's left is a man you don’t really recognize. He buries his face in the warmth of your stomach, and goes limp as you run a hand across his shoulders.

“Do—” you clear your throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Because if Soonyoung is talking there's less chances for you to open your mouth and screw it all up. You don’t know how to be doughy and tender with the same level of ease he possesses. You’ll probably fail trying but it's the least you can do.

It’s uncharted territory; for you, for this, whatever this is because it doesn’t really resemble anything you’ve done before even though the foundation is the same. Because you care about Soonyoung, and he obviously cares about you. But you’re not sure how to let him and even less sure how to return it.

“No.”

“Okay,” you say, at a loss for what comes next.

Inactivity breeds restlessness. Without any idea how to do this on your own, you default to the steps he took when you were half cooked on your bathroom floor.

Soonyoung eyes you with questions but doesn’t speak as you drag him into the en suite. Bites his tongue as you work off your clothes under the sterile overhead light and then move to work on his; raising his arms when you poke him and managing his pants on his own. He even smiles, or his mouth twitches in a vague allusion to a grin, when you flick water at him after guaranteeing the temperature won’t give you both pneumonia.

Finally tucked behind the shower curtain, he stands dumbly. Not another move to help, content to watch you wash his hair, nails raking over his scalp until he shivers.

You ignore the prod at your thigh. Focused on letting the warmth of the water do the heavy lifting, you soak a washcloth in soap and lather his skin until it tinges pink. A shampoo mohawk earns a kiss dusted along your shoulders and you might even blush a bit if you weren’t so focused on perfecting the spikes so he looks like one of those 90s alternative poster boys.

Out of the shower, his vow of silence continues. Everything he isn’t saying is clear in his eyes, especially when you slather his face in one of those mud masks, painting him bright green. He’s less intimidating with chunks of clay in his eyebrows.

He isn’t accommodating but he also doesn’t outright refuse which seems to be the best you’re going to get.

“You look like Shrek,” you snort, satisfied and turning towards the mirror to cover your own face in a matching shade.

“Well then you're Fiona.” His head comes over your shoulder, chin digging into bare skin to watch you in the mirror. His chest is sticky against your back from steam but you don’t mind if it means he’ll talk to you.

“Actually,” you think, wiggling to face him. “I think you’re more like Donkey.”

“The dragon fits you better anyway.”

“Are you calling me scary?” you gasp.

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that next time you want me to suck on your balls.”

He winces. “I can feel them retreating into my body already.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll mess up the mask.”

Without a care for the still drying mess of his face, he takes refuge back in his favorite place. Tucked under your chin, he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Work sucked today. I didn’t get a contract I wanted, they picked some other kid at the studio for it. I’ve taught him for years and they picked him over me.”

“I’m sorry.” You placate him with a gentle hand up his back, nails tracing loose patterns as the fan hums over head.

“Not your fault.”

“No, but it still sucks.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles closer, arms heavy around your waist like you’d even think to move away. “It’ll be fine though. He’s a good kid and I couldn’t be mad at him. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you both wash away the flakes of clay, cracked around the corners of your eyes and mouths, and retreat back under the covers in one set of pajamas split between: you in one of his shirts with nothing underneath, and him in sweatpants with nothing on top.

Soonyoung insists that Pirates of the Caribbean is his comfort movie, something about Kiera Knightly with a gun being his sexual awakening (which explains a lot), and you let him put it on the tiny screen of his laptop with plans to fall asleep in the first five minutes.

His lips are at your temple, a dull pressure that makes your blood hum. “I always wanted to be a pirate growing up.”

“Really?” you ask, edging towards unconsciousness from the lazy drag of his fingers on your hip.

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes glued to the screen. “Have my own ship, no rules, a bunch of sexy wenches.”

“Half naked women with scurvy were a part of your career plan?”

“Okay, maybe I added those just now but my point stands.”

The picture of Soonyoung with a scar on his chest and one of those ruffled linen shirts straight off the cover of a dime novel some grandma would read on the train with no shame isn’t that bad. Actually, it’s pretty sexy. But you won’t feed his delusions.

“What point?”

He rolls on top of you, face open with grave seriousness. “We should role play. Me as the hot pirate captain, you as the beautiful princess. Forbidden love, enemies type stuff. You run away from being royal and end up joining my crew. Oh no, Captain Hoshi, I had no idea this was your room! What an impressive sword!” he squeals in a breathy mock of you.

“And then,” you gasp. “you come in five minutes and I convince everyone to throw you overboard?”

“Hurtful. But I’m willing to forgive you if you call me captain. Just once.”

He’s close enough to kiss, lips pouted as he waits for you to give into his demand. A gentle peck bordering on domestic makes him sigh, the taste of toothpaste lingering on his breath. Just as you think you’ve distracted him away from such an ridiculous idea, he leans back with a gleam in his eye that says he’ll wait all night if you make him.

“How about we roleplay falling asleep?” you sigh, eyes closed against his expectant gaze.

“Nope, too late. I’m thinking about you wearing nothing but a pirate hat and now I’m hard.”

He curls right into the meat of your thigh, hot and ready to go if you give the word. Sleep is tempting but the thought of a quick tumble wakes you up enough to entertain him.

“Alright, but you’re doing all the work,” you sigh. “Take off my clothes, captain.”

Pausing to let the idea settle, he shakes his head. “That’s actually not as hot as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you fuff. “I’m watching the movie.”

You try to shove him away with zero intent to actually let him go anywhere and end up pinned, fingers in a tight grip around your wrists that you pretend to fight against. Soonyoung knows you like to be reminded of his strength on occasion; whether thats fucking your mouth until your throat burns or bending you over. This potentially being one since he’s had a hard day and you’re hungover from making him feel better about it.

He tongues across your pulse until you go pliant against the pillows, legs spread to cradle his hips. A shuffle of clothes and a lift of your hips and he’d be inside you. There's more steps; a condom, a little fingering because his dick was made to stretch your limits. Your legs shake already, desperate for quick fuck so you can passout while Soonyoung cleans you up.

But his new mood means he’s making up for lost time. Presently, that's bunching your shirt up to your chin and tracing each inch of newly uncovered skin with his tongue.

“Hellooooo ladies,” he sighs, nose buried between your breasts.

“God, you’re lame.”

“Be nice to me, I had a hard day,” he pouts, releasing your hands in favor of plucking at your chest until you sigh in delight.

“I’m literally letting you—hmmm— see my boobs after you said that corny shit. How much nicer can I be?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to coax a low groan out of your chest with passes of his mouth until you're kicking the sheets. The good kind of sting that ruts your hips against his thigh and makes you dizzy. There will be a permanent wet patch if he doesn’t give you relief soon.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?” You twitch at the thoughts running rampant. Short of donning that pirate hat mentioned earlier, anything he suggests is guaranteed to make you feel better too.

“Can show you better than I can tell you,” he bites into your nipple, sucking it to a stiff peak for his fingers to pinch before shifting focus to the other.

“If you try and put your dick in my ass I’ll rip it off.” The words are breathy off your lips. No real threat because he might be able to talk you into the idea if you let him. If he keeps pulling your strings the way he’s learned how.

But Soonyoung has different ideas, pulling off your nipple with a rough suck, curling your shoulders in. “That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Let me slip a finger in next time I blow you and tell me how you like it.”

“You have and I do. Keep talking about it and I’m gonna need another shower.”

“God, you’re a freak.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He takes the initiative to roll you on top, palms massaging your ass while enjoying the view of you naked in his lap.

A sudden moment of vulnerability roots in your chest, warmed by the set of brown eyes peering up at you. “You know I don’t just come here for this, right?”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows twist for a moment and then soften. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not ready for anything deeper. The air is already thicker with the weight of that confession, suffocating. In an effort not to drown in it, you drop your chest flat to his, latching onto the jut of his collarbone. “Is this your big idea? Me on top? Not very original.”

A hand at your ass drags you along his covered cock, already begging for attention. It’s not original but you’ll dry hump him into the mattress until your bones are jelly if he wants.

“Sit on my face.”

It’s your turn to pull back. “What?”

“Sit. On. My. Face.” His hand is already firm against your thighs, forcing you halfway up his chest before you can argue.

“I heard you the first time, just confused how that's supposed to make you feel better.”

“You underestimate the power of your pussy. Now get up here.”

The shuffle up is less than sexy. Soonyoung is eager from your permission, rushing you up to his mouth until you nearly knee him in the head.

“Wait,” you say.

Soonyoung locks his arms as you move off him, reflexive because he lets go a second later. Turning, you eye the tent in his pants as you kneel back down. Perfect position to touch him while he touches you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fingers tracing through your wetness despite the horrible angle.

You don’t get a chance to orient yourself. He’s already quick to work with teasing passes of his tongue that turn bolder every second.

“Jesus Christ, give me a second to get your dick out.”

But he doesn’t; too consumed with tasting all you have to offer, wringing you out to dry the second he gets a chance. The flat of his tongue laps up your arousal like it’s more vital than oxygen. There's a wet mess smeared between your thighs from the vigor.

It takes all your focus to force down his pants, mouth watering at the shiny head of his cock straining from some heavy petting. You keep steady with one hand, jerking him off into your mouth with the other. Soonyoung malfunctions between your thighs as you swallow his cock, a moan right to your clit makes you fumble that last inch into your mouth.

He chokes you with a buck up but you take it in stride. Sucking harder, lashing against the slit until he whimpers. Normally, you’d exaggerate the wet noises at the back of your throat but with the crude dig of his tongue in your entrance there's no need.

“God,” you warble into his crotch. You arch back into his face, Soonyoung’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading you out like a full course meal.

In theory it’s hot. Your cunt on his face and his cock in your throat, rutting against each other until you're numb and twitching and covered in each other's mess. In practicality, there is nothing Soonyoung is more relentlessly dedicated to than eating you out until your vision turns white and you have to force him away or risk passing out. It only takes a few minutes before you’re forced to tap out, panting into his thigh and weakly fisting his length with no regard for the mess sticking between your knuckles, as he fucks you along his tongue.

“Gonna come, oh–fuck,” you choke. You want him to come too, in your mouth, on your face if that's what he wants. But by some glitch in the universe, Soonyoung is able to hold back and you’re the one racing to the finish first. “Oh my god, Soonyoung, fuck.”

You jerk him off, grip tight despite the slick mess of spit and pre-cum. It doesn’t help that ever squeeze at the swollen head sends a moan straight into your clit, forcing you hips to rut desperately.

“Don’t stop. Just, shit – need a little more—”

You pull one his hands away to take over your short strokes, spitting into his palm and squeezing until he figures out what you want; to watch him touch himself while eating you out. The contrast of his fingers tangled between your own, both glistening because Soonyoung is just as close as you are, gets you there.

“Close.” Thighs locked, you suffocate him but Soonyoung doesn’t complain. A palm at the base of your spine forces you down when you shy away from the edge. “Oh, oh, oh!”

A sting of your nails into his thigh is all the warning either of you get. Back arched tight, eyes clenched, you shudder through it. Soonyoung doesn’t stop, sucking away the fresh wave of arousal, tongue verging on punishing against your clit as you sink.

“Okay, that's enough—god,” your voice breaks. “Enough.”

You fall to the side, face first into the covers without effort to soften the blow. The lower half of your body is numb but you can feel his hand skating up the back of your calf.

“Good?” he asks, all too aware of the issue; the smirk is clear in his tone, happy to see you strung out from a few minutes on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you warn but the bite isn’t in it. The urge to kick him in the head is there but none of the energy.

“Are you tapping out on me or…?”

The sound of the drawer pauses in case you say no but the idea of not feeling him inside you sounds like the worst thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re not that good,” you mumble into the blanket. “Fuck me like this, you promised you’d do all the work. Remember?”

“Like this?” he hums, rubbing the head of his cock back through the mess with admiration.

He obeys with a wet kiss to your shoulder, parting your legs and sliding between without a word. You soak in the stretch, ass arched into his hips to take it all. The cold bites down your back when Soonyoung leans back to watch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines. “Shit.”

He drives into you with a bruising pace, betrayed by his own need to come after having you on his mouth without a tease of relief. You arch into it, the head of his cock dragging deep inside pushing disgusting noises from your lips you pray his roommates aren’t around to hear.

“Spank me.”

He loses it for a second. A rough thrust pushing you down the bed and he scrambles to follow. “Seriously?”

“Do it,” you bark.

The first strike is weak. More of a firm caress than the sting you crave; hesitant to push for too much too fast lest you take away any privilege he has.

“Harder.”

The next impact comes hard enough to burn an outline of his hand. And another one that makes your tongue feel too big for your own mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” you whine. “More.”

Arms pinned beneath your torso, all you can do is lay there and take it. Nerves gone, he spanks you like it’s second nature. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Good?” he asks. Sounds more like a beg for validation. That he’s the one driving you crazy, molding your insides to his cock until it’s all you can think about.

“So good, f–fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes against your neck, a hand wedging beneath your hips to drag against your clit in messy strokes. “You’re so hot, fuck.”

There will be a bruise to hide come morning but you can’t care. The slap of his hips against your ass, the flame of his hand still lingering on your ass, his cock drilling your insides; there's no room for anything but Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

You arch your back to feel him deeper only to have him pull out completely on the next stroke.

“No!” you protest, racing to keep him inside.

It’s no use, Soonyoung flips you on your back before you can convince him otherwise. He hooks your knees over his elbows, spreading you wide and driving home in one smooth push with his teeth at your neck.

“Gonna come,” he begs, voice weak. You know his game, what makes him tick and come so hard he goes blind.

“Not yet,” you warn. A rough twist in his hair only works against his thinning resolve and that's exactly why you pull harder until his hips kick into a jilted rhythm.

“I can’t – please – I can’t—”

“Not yet,” you gasp. He’s deep, right in the back of your throat making you foggy. “Be a g–good boy and wait until I tell you.”

Hips frantic, voice cracking, he tries to hold off; knows it's better when you tell him exactly what to do. Makes him choke into your chest.“Fuck, fuck!”

“Tell me how bad you want it. How much you love this pussy.”

“Love it, love your pussy.” He folds in half on top of you, desperate. Every drive of his cock into your center forcing your own desperate noises out. “Please let me come for you.”

“Look at me,” you demand. The command in your voice is paper thin but you're both too lost. His eyes are glassy, frantic to do whatever you ask if it means he can come. “Beg for it.”

“P–please,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. “Please let me come. Need it, wanna come. Please. Please!”

He’s too good to edge. Perfectly pliant to any demand and it makes you want to give him whatever he wants. “Give it to me. Fuck me through it. Let me feel you come for me.”

He latches onto your breast, sucking your nipple as his hips turn sloppy. The squeak of mattress springs are a sound track to his end. You won’t come again but you don’t need to. Satiated with the choked whimpers of your name as he swells against your walls, forcing himself as deep as possible like he’s fucking you raw and full of his cum.

Maybe someday you’ll let him.

Your hips are sore from being forced in half so long but you won’t move away until Soonyoung comes back down. Less from your own will power, more because you’re running on fumes and might fall asleep with him still inside you. He gives a few more pathetic twitches and then goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Welcome to the club,”

With the grand finale complete, your aching muscles give out completely. You can’t even laugh when one of his hands moves to check your pulse.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung gasps. “I killed you with my dick.”

“You didn’t kill me.” You slap away his hand weakly. Without distraction, the stickiness of your skin from sweat in the worst places settles in but it’s a problem for later.

“A man can dream,” he says wistfully.

“Of homicide by cock?”

“Of dick game strong enough to murder someone.”

He rubs his nose along yours, breathes mingling in a lazy kiss as exhaustion creeps over your both.

“Your face smells like pussy.” You slouch into the mattress, deadweight while taking all of his like the perfect blanket.

He kisses you again, tongue teasing at your lips until you give the very real threat of teeth against it and he backs away. “Your mouth tastes like cock so I guess we’re even. C'mon we need to shower again.”

“Nooooooo,” you grumble, clinging to him in an effort to delay the chill waiting to invade between you.

“At least let me get a rag.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, locked at the ankle for dramatic effect. “If you pull out I’ll cry.”

“Words every man wants to hear,” he hums into your cheek with a kiss. “But my dick is sore and we both need to sleep.”

“Fine.”

When he pulls away you feel empty; devastatingly so. But you don’t ask him to comeback. Just pout at the loss and revel in placating pampering you receive in return.

He goes through the steps with familiarity. Wiping away the mess between your legs, tossing your shirt back up from the floor but you forgo it, choosing to sleep naked much to Soonyoung’s delight.

You use his chest as a pillow, curled into his side and tucked under his chin. The steady beat of his heart lulls you off. The last thing you register, on the hazy perimeter at the edge of sleep, is his fingers at your cheek and the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

@seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @gyuwoosbabie @dinossaurz

@wonustars

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 11 months

Text

white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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glittter-skeleton · 2 years

Text

I am obsessed with the fact that Michael Schur has done the same exact pairing of sunshine protagonist x anxious storm cloud love interest for 4 different shows now and it is wonderful every single time

(The love interest’s level of anxiety also increases with every iteration)

#the office #parks and rec #the good place #brooklyn 99 #jim x pam #benslie #ben x leslie #jake x amy #Peraltiago #chidi x eleanor #jim halpert #pam beesly #jake peralta #amy santiago #ben wyatt #leslie knope #chidi anagonye #Eleanor Shellstrop

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shuaraes · 4 months

Text

five minutes | c.sc

- he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light

oneshot | 1.3k | domestic!au | fluff

if choi seungcheol could choose one memory to keep after death, it would be the ones like this. the ones where he rises slightly early and gets to watch as you wake up to the world. for him it’s the little things: sunshine falling atop his sheets, your limbs intertwined, the pout in your voice begging him to come back to bed. though seungcheol knows for a fact, he would always hit snooze if it meant five more minutes with you.

~ pairing . choi seungcheol x gn!reader

~ content . non idol!au, early mornings with choi seungcheol, oddly sentimental moments lmaoo, fluffiest of domestic fluff, brief banter

~ tw/cw . one slightly suggestive allusion to hickeys but apart from that none at all!

~ song rec . come to me - seventeen

~ author’s note . here’s the surprise i was talking about! apologies for being so inactive, life just had to take priority for once. but i had some free time so i wrote this as a little writing exercise. also i just imagine seungcheol to be the best to wake up to lmaoo. sorry for once again proving i don’t know how to write anything that isn’t pure unfiltered yearning 😭 hope you guys enjoy anyways!

FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT THE DRONING SOUND OF AN ALARM THAT WAKES HIM

but instead the light of the morning - rousing him with its golden-honey rays. Slithers of sunlight burn against his droopy eyelids and he curses himself for forgetting to close his curtains in the evening. He wonders what the time is. With the advent of summer, guessing the time has been harder than a blinded game of Russian roulette. It could be anywhere between 5:30 (he could afford to sleep for a couple more hours) or 11:25 (he might as well not bother showing up to work).

Seungcheol rolls onto his back and cradles his skull with his palm. He drifts his eyes up towards the cream-coloured ceiling, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest as it rises with his every breath: ocean waves at high tide. Even though the future stresses of the working day loom at the forefront of his mind, they aren’t tormenting him like they usually do. He isn’t dreading the ring of the alarm. There’s something in his mind and soul that’s scarily at peace, a calmness he only thought he would feel in his dying hours. A sharp snore cuts his train of thought short. Feeling the warmth pressing taut against his side, he realises what the feather-weight feeling in his chest was for.

He flips over to look at you, out like a candlelight. Seungcheol swears he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light. No painting in a museum could ever come close to this sight of you. Your legs are curled into your torso and hands loosely gripping the sheets. Seungcheol’s eyes are drawn immediately towards your lips, your pillow-soft sighs drift onto the pillow where a tiny pool of salvia is. A thin sheen of sweat, illuminated by golden rays, wraps around your body like a second skin, causing you to glisten like the sun during dawnbreak.

In this moment, you are so peaceful, so calm, so vulnerable. You’re like a god to him, a statue chiselled painstakingly out of marble. Seungcheol has to hold himself back from caressing your puffy cheeks, terrified he’d wake you. You’ve been working long hours recently and today’s your only day of rest. Apart from that, something about watching you catch up on some well-deserved rest burns his heart white-hot with passion.

‘I must have been a saint in my last life to deserve this,’ Seungcheol thinks. As clearly and effortlessly as the chime of a bell of a small bookstore, you entered his life, taking him by surprise. You were like a whirlwind and Seungcheol was enraptured in the eye of your storm. Each day he was falling deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the point of no return. The way your smile and sense of humour makes him float above the clouds, almost as if is high on your presence. If he is, then you’re his favourite drug, that itch that you can never scratch enough, that song that no matter what he does cannot get out of his head.

He thinks about how much he loves you. How much he longs for you when you are not near - how much he wants to worship you until marks, the same colour as pink lemonade, pepper your chest. It almost brings him to tears: the intensity of his feelings in contrast to the softness of the morning light. You’re the most beautiful person to him - mind, body and soul.

Right now, Seungcheol feels content, not in the way you do when finishing a task or lying down with a stomach full of your favourite food. This is different. A contentedness he knows he may never be able to feel again, but the moment is so perfect that he doesn’t need to feel this way again. This morning is already more than enough.

RING-RING

Seungcheol rolls his eyes as the sound of his alarm vibrates deep through his ears. He checks the time. Fuck. He only has 35 minutes to get ready (he could have sworn he set it for earlier). He tries his best to move cautiously, trying not to wake you. But as he sees your body start to shift, he knows his attempts are in vain.

“Sorry sleepyhead,” Seungcheol coos his voice so sweet that it almost fully distracts you from the alarm's monotonous cries. You reply with a quiet 'morning' but you’re not sure if he hears: the sound being muffled by the sheets. He traces mindless patterns across your exposed skin. His fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, trying to curl away from his touch. Seungcheol can only laugh.

“What?” He knows he’s teasing, the grin on his face ever-wide.

“Shut up…” You turn your body to face him as he sits up, a yawn escaping from the depths of his chest. “How long have you been awake for?”

“A while.” He stretches over your body to hit snooze and you hear the light crackling of his bones as he moves.

“So you’ve just been watching me drool in my sleep this entire time, weirdo.” You say mimicking his previous teasing tone. Seungcheol rolls his eyes but still helps you rub off a small string of dried salvia sitting on the corner of your lip.

“Maybe, maybe not. Though, you are a wonderful sight to behold in the morning.”

“You’re mad.”

“Madly in love with you.” You snort at his words and playfully smack his bare chest as whiny ‘it’s true’s' fall from his pink coral lips. He smiles so wide, that you catch a glimpse of it through the blinding sunlight - a look at his sweet gummy smile. So wide that you can’t help but smile as well.

If Seungcheol were to describe his personality in one word, it would be a realist, maybe a cynic at times. But when it comes to you, he’s a dreamer. You’re the painter who colours over his grey corporate days, the person that keeps him going when his 9–5 starts to feel like a 24-hour shift and it’s your smile he thinks of at the neon red stoplight when he’s racing back home (he hopes you feel the same). He realises that he would do anything for you and it doesn’t anger him in the slightest.

“After you’re off from work, we should do something. Take advantage of the good weather and longer days.” You muse, still looking up at him. With the way tiredness pulls at your eyes you resemble a baby deer. Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he’s humming in agreement.

“That would be lovely. Hmm, a walk around the city seems nice, there’s this pop-up museum that I think you’d like. We could also-“

RING-RING

You both groan at the cursed sound. Reluctantly, Seungcheol attempts to rub whatever remnants of sleep are left in his eyes (it doesn’t work, he feels more tired afterwards). With a chaste kiss on your forehead, he tries to free himself from the hold of the duvet and many blankets intertwined with his limbs. If he eats breakfast quickly, he may be able to get to work on time. However, as his legs hang over the side of the bed, Seungcheol feels a vice-like grip tighten around his wrist.

“Don’t go.” Your voice sounds so tired yet commanding, as if you were a witch, forcing him into a trance.

“But lovely, work-“

“If you can shower quickly, you can spare five more minutes with me.” You whine. To Seungcheol, there is no point trying to fight it, you’ve already won.

“I suppose I could."

The light giggle that escapes your mouth seals the deal as you drag him back down to drown in the sheets. He throws an arm around your middle and pulls you impossibly closer. Seungcheol knows his alarm is going to go off again in the next five minutes, but as you melt into his embrace like candle wax and press kisses along the base of his neck, he couldn’t care less about hitting snooze again.

For you, he could spare five more minutes.

For you, he would do anything.

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iamtired10 · 6 days

Text

jealous jealous

— fluffy (slight angst) headcanons

pairing - newjeans members x female reader

synopsis - how they would react when they get jealous.

warning - jealousy and kisses (same warnings as before..)

a/n - im not totally sure if this is accurate or fun, but here it is. enjoy reading and bye—

requested by — @somedaydream

kim minji

minji is always the steady, reliable one.

but when jealousy hits her, that calm exterior fades into something much softer, more vulnerable.

it’s almost cute how she thinks she can hide it, but you know her better than that.

when she sees someone else getting just a little too close to you, her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

she doesn’t make a scene—not minji—but the way she sidles up to you, slipping her arm around your waist, says everything she won’t.

suddenly, she’s attached to you like glue, her hand never leaving yours.

and if you thought she was clingy before?

it’s nothing compared to how she holds onto you now, as if letting go would mean you’d slip away.

minji isn’t loud about her jealousy, but the intensity is unmistakable.

she’ll rest her head on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck as she murmurs, “you’re mine, you know that, right?”

her grip tightens ever so slightly, like she needs the reassurance that you’re not going anywhere.

you’d tease her about it, call her out for being so possessive, but her response is just to snuggle closer, burying her face against you with a soft,

“shut up, you love it.” and yeah, you do.

pham hanni

when hanni gets jealous, it’s like watching a storm roll in—fast, loud, and impossible to miss.

she’ll try to act indifferent at first, throwing in a casual, “i don’t care,” as her eyes narrow at whoever’s hogging your attention.

but the pout that forms on her lips is unmistakable, her foot tapping impatiently as she waits for them to leave.

the second they’re out of sight, though, she’s right there, tugging at your sleeve with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

she’ll fold her arms, puffing out her cheeks in the most adorable way, and mutter, “you’re not allowed to let anyone else make you laugh like that.”

you try to calm her down, but she’s already climbing onto your lap, wrapping her arms around your neck with a stubborn grin. “i’m the only one who gets to do that. got it?”

but the best part?

when she tries to act all tough but fails miserably.

she’ll poke at your cheek, trying to act mad, but the second you kiss her nose or ruffle her hair, she’s all giggles and soft smiles again, her walls crumbling in an instant.

hanni can’t stay mad for long—especially not when you pull her close and tell her she’s your favorite.

danielle marsh

danielle is usually the most carefree, bubbly person you know. jealousy?

it doesn’t even seem like it’s in her vocabulary.

but when it sneaks up on her, it’s a quiet, almost shy thing.

she won’t say anything at first, but you’ll notice how she pulls back ever so slightly, her usual easy smiles faltering. danielle is all sunshine, but when she’s feeling insecure, the clouds start to roll in.

she won’t ask outright, won’t accuse you of anything, but you can see the way her gaze lingers on you, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

the laughter isn’t as bright, her touches not as bold.

instead, she becomes quiet, distant, like she’s afraid she might lose you without even realizing it.

and the worst part?

she’ll try to hide it, not wanting to burden you with her feelings.

but once you notice, once you pull her aside and ask her what’s wrong, she’ll melt.

her arms will wrap around you in the tightest hug, her face buried in your chest as she mumbles, “i just... don’t want to lose you.”

you’ll reassure her, over and over, until that bright smile returns, her whole body leaning into yours like she can finally breathe again.

danielle doesn’t get jealous often, but when she does, she needs to know you’re hers, and only hers.

kang haerin

haerin is the silent type, always observing, always thinking.

when she gets jealous, you almost wouldn’t know—almost.

she doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t throw tantrums or pout.

instead, she just watches, her eyes sharp as she quietly takes in every interaction you have with someone else.

her expression remains neutral, but there’s a tension in the way she moves, like a panther ready to pounce.

she’ll slip closer to you, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that’s so subtle, yet so possessive.

haerin doesn’t need words to show you how she’s feeling—her presence is enough.

she stands just a little too close, her gaze never leaving you, as if she’s reminding you, without saying a word, that you belong to her.

later, when you’re alone, she’ll sit beside you, her hand resting lightly on your leg, her voice low as she finally speaks. “you’re not interested in anyone else, right?”

it’s not even a real question—she knows the answer.

but hearing you say it makes something soften in her eyes, the tension melting away as she leans into you, her head resting on your shoulder.

haerin doesn’t need to make a big fuss, but when she’s jealous, she’ll make sure you never forget where your heart belongs.

lee hyein

hyein is the youngest, but when she gets jealous, she acts like she’s years older, her voice sharp and demanding as she pulls you aside.

“who was that?” she’ll ask, her eyebrows raised, trying to act all serious and mature.

but you can see right through her.

she’s still the playful, dramatic baby you know and love, even when she’s pretending to be tough.

she’ll follow you around, refusing to let anyone else get too close, her hand firmly in yours as she shoots glares at anyone who dares even glance in your direction.

“you’re mine, no sharing,” she’ll declare, her voice full of mock authority, but the way she clings to you like a kid with their favorite toy betrays her real feelings.

and when you finally laugh and call her out for being so possessive, she’ll just huff, crossing her arms as she pouts.

“i don’t care, you’re not allowed to make anyone else smile like that.”

but underneath all her dramatics, she’s still soft, still the sweet hyein you know.

she’ll eventually lean her head on your shoulder, her voice a little quieter, a little softer.

“i just like you too much, okay?”

a/n - working overtime for y'all :(

#new jeans x reader #newjeans #fluff #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #oneshot #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle x reader #kang haerin x reader #haerin x reader #lee hyein x reader #hyein x reader

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hmusunoo · 18 days

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 - 𝐏.𝐒𝐇

▏pairings. park sunghoon x fem!reader

▏desc. the day i met you i started dreaming, dreaming about the life we’d have to together with the love that we shared, a love like bliss. - meeting Sunghoon during a rain storm.

▏warnings. i wrote this on a whim at 3am from a random thought that popped into my head so don’t judge it too harshly. Short drabble not very long at all.

The day you met SUNGHOON it was raining. The day was dull over taken by gray clouds and a haze that was ever so blinding. It was a day normal people sat inside their house with a book and a warm cup of coffee. It was day you stayed in your pajamas and looked out the windows as droplets of water pelted at the glass.

For you, the sunshine didn’t come from the sun that day. It came from Park Sunghoon. The strange man who was walking his dog in a downpour as nonchalant as a man taking an evening stroll in the spring.

Umbrella over his head he had no sense of urgency, just lazily walking his dog on the leash in front of him. You on the other hand were a mess. Newpaper atop your head your hated been paying attention to where you were going rushing down the sidewalk trying to reach your destination as quickly as possible. You bumped into Sunghoon, falling on your ass and skinning your palms in the process.

You wish you could say it was like a rom com scene. The heroine falls to the floor in a puddle of water and the hero picks her up bridal style carrying her home where they gaze into each other eyes and live happily ever after. You really really wish you could say how it happened but i didn’t.

Instead Sunghoon looked down at your figure on the floor wet from the rain pelting down on you and laughed. He laughed at you. Didn’t offer a hand, didn’t ask if you were ok. None of that. He laughed.

You wanted to huff at him show him some kind of annoyance but instead you were struck by the sight of him. His smile so bright and his laughter so loud it had sprang right through you and shocked your heart. You could help but crack a grin, the corners of your mouth lifting up and a giggle slipping out of your lips before you could subconsciously stop it.

“You’re laughing at me” You giggled looking up at him. He continued to laugh shaking his head at you, his dog sitting there idly looking between the two of you in confusion. The rain still came down hard the two of you getting absolutely soaked.

“You’re laughing to” He said smile still on his face. “You have to admit that it was pretty funny”

You lifted yourself from the ground, dusting off your jeans before looking back at the man whose name you did not know yet. “It was a little funny” You nodded.

“A lot funny” He corrected. Playfully rolling your eyes you muttered “Ok, it was a lot funny”

“are you alright?” He finally asked after the laughter had died down. His dog began to whine besides him probably tired of the rain that was coming down and from sitting stagnant for so long. He looked down at his puppy before raising his head to look at you awaiting your answer.

You gave him a quick nod “I’m just fine, thank you.”

He smiled again. One that was so bright it had lit up your insides the gloomy day long forgotten, hidden behind the light that was park sunghoon.

“I’m Sunghoon” he said raising his hand for a shake. You attached your hand in his a cliche movie like shock running through your veins at the contact. “Y/n” You said. Cheeks heating up red with embarrassment from the moment.

“Gaeul is getting quiet restless so i better go” He trailed off motioning towards the puppy besides him. The rain had finally started to slow not mauling down on the two of them any longer, drizzle the only thing left in its wake.

“Oh ok” You spoke lowly trying to hide your disappointment at the conversation coming to an end. “I’m sorry about bumping into you” You said as an ending argument gearing up to try your hardest to go about your day after this.

In truth you didn’t know how you would. It would be incredibly difficult to forget a face like Sunghoon’s, a laugh like his too. You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to your day to day life after this.

“We were going to the indoor dog park..” Sunghoon said, a small smirk on his face. “If you’re not busy i’m pretty sure Gaeul would love of you’d join us”

You quirked a brow at him a smirk of your own on your face. “Ok, if that’s what gaeul wants then…i have to comply”

“It is.” Sunghoon said quickly “It is what Gaeul wants of course”

You began the walk to the small little doggy park, the sun finally peeking out for the first time all day warming up the day and drying any remnants of the gloomy day but you had your only little reminder of the day. Park Sunghoon.

note - i wrote this small little drabble at 3:30am and it took me like 20 minutes i had this idea randomly like 5 minutes before i started writing it and i just had to do it lol, hope yall enjoyed!

taglist- @belovedhoon , @st1llm0nster , @blossommi

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mrsriddles-blog · 6 months

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Mania | T.N

Pairing: Theodore Nott X Slytherin Fem Reader

WC: 5.5k+

Warnings/Notes: Mild language, slow-burn, drugs...

Summary: In which you are Theodore Nott's mania...

“Mattheo Riddle…Tom Riddle and Y/n Riddle…hm, I believe this is the first time I’ve had all three Riddle’s in my class this year at once. It’s good of you to finally show up for your lessons, triplets.” Professor Umbridge says.

“We are more than happy to grace you with our presence.” Mattheo says cheekily.

“I don’t believe I asked for your input.” She says, looking over him once.

“I don’t believe we asked for yours.” Mattheo says.

“Matt.” Tom warns quietly.

“That’s it, detention! All three of you.” She snaps.

“I didn’t say anything! I was trying to shut him up!” Tom snaps annoyed.

“Mr. Riddle, would you like to make that two days of detention?” She asks.

Tom clenches his jaw, glowering at her as he chooses silence. His gaze slips over to Mattheo who smiles lazily at him. You were already working on your assignment from her. You pause, feeling a presence near you as a shadow casts over your parchment.

“I’m surprised you’ve got nothing to say Ms. Riddle.” She says.

You slowly look up, looking at her blankly. She smiles as if she were delighted that you had no reaction, nor no words. She reaches out, grabs your wrist and looks at the scars on your hand from her punishment.

“If only you Riddle’s could learn to behave.” She tsks.

“She hasn’t even said anything!” Draco defends.

“Malfoy, would you also like to join the Riddle’s in detention?” She asks and he stays silent.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably as the air shifted. You pull your wrist free from her, immediately wringing your hands together as Mattheo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You need to calm down. Everyone is feeling your magic.” He mutters.

That didn’t help your case. In fact, it made you feel more anxious, so you stood and packed up your stuff before leaving the classroom quickly. You knew you were going to be in loads of trouble because of your father, but it didn’t quite matter to you.

“Skipping Umbridge’s class, too?” Theodore asks, standing at the top of the Astronomy Tower, smoking.

“My magic started to get the best of me. It made the room get that uncomfortable feel and I couldn’t control it, so I left. And I got detention for Mattheo’s smart mouth.” You mumble, standing next to him.

“Sounds like Mattheo, but Umbridge also holds a grudge against you and your brothers simply for who your father is.” He says.

“I know, but it’s exhausting. We share one last name, and suddenly I’m hated and feared. I may share the same views, but I don’t agree with the way things have been handled.” You sigh.

You relax as he throws his arm over your shoulder. You allow yourself to lean into his warmth more, the chilly air beginning to affect you.

You always found yourself comfortable in Theodore’s presence. Yes, he was the dark, gloomy, brooding bad boy everyone warns you away from, but you found solace in his presence. Unbeknownst to you, you were the sunshine in Theodore’s life. Anytime you walked in a room, those gloomy looming clouds parted and allowed him to bask in your light.

Theodore was quiet, understanding, methodical, logical, and calm. His presence soothed you more than you’d like to admit. You were quiet, but one wrong word being said could set your fiery tongue ablaze. No one could ever reign you back, no one, but Theodore Nott. The moment he’d whisper in your ear or rest a hand on the small of your back always sent you quiet. It was like a wave of tranquility washing over you.

“Y/n! What were you thinking? Now you're going to be kept longer.” Mattheo hissed as he stormed into the room with your friends and Tom not far behind.

“I needed to leave. My magic was making you all uncomfortable and it didn’t help with you telling me to calm down. I knew I needed to calm down, I don’t need you adding to that stress.” You say, pulling free from Theodore’s comfortable hold as you step towards your seething brother.

“We don’t have the time for this nonsense! Father has given us our respected duties.” He snaps, pointing a finger at you.

“Nonsense? Are you trying to twist the blame on me once more? We are in this mess because you’ve got no self-control! And father can take those duties and shove them up his ass!” You exclaim, the room buzzing with your magic.

Mattheo feels a shock in the air between the two of you, causing him to take several steps back. You were the only one to develop magic like this which happened to be otherworldly. It was known to be chaos magic, something that didn’t have much research behind it.

“You can’t say things like that! He’ll find out!” He snaps.

“Let him. I’m tired of us hiding behind him like cowards!” You snap.

Your eyes flickered to a glowing green, something they hadn’t ever done before as you began to levitate slightly—another thing you hadn’t ever done.

Your father loved and hated your magic. He loved that it was his child who possessed such rare and unique abilities. But, he hated it because it meant you were stronger than him. So, anytime your magic began to go haywire because of your emotions, he’d be quick to lock you away so you could reign it in. You’ve never gotten a chance to experiment with your powers to see what you were capable of.

“Y/n/n, you need to calm down.” Mattheo warns, putting his hands up in surrender.

Your heart aches seeing the fear in his eyes. You see his hand inching to his wand and your lip trembles, tilting your head slightly as your eyes well with tears. You glance around the room to see your friends inching behind your brothers, fear on their faces. Tom steps up next to Mattheo, nudging him behind him as he shakily points his wand at you.

“Expelliarmus!” Theodore shouts, standing in front of you.

He catches Tom’s wand, glaring at the group.

“She is your bloody sister! Our friends! She wouldn’t hurt you even if she wanted to! Can’t you see you both are hurting her! In fact, all of you are.” He snaps.

Your feet touch the ground as your eyes flicker back to normal. Theodore turns to you. He steps forward, but you step back as you slowly shake your head.

“P-Please don’t…I d-don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper.

“You won’t hurt me, love. Come here.” He murmurs.

You don’t move as he slowly steps towards you like you were a timid doe. His arms wrap around you, his hand cradling your head as he inhales deeply as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Your arms slowly wind around his waist, your hands shaking.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You whisper.

“Darling, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You’ve never gotten the chance to know your magic and we know that. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” He murmurs.

You were quiet, your shaky hands fisting the back of his shirt. He kisses your clothed shoulder, ignorant to your brothers’ anger towards him touching you. But, they knew that you were upset with them now. It was Theodore out of your friends and brothers who defended you.

You slowly pull away, stepping back.

“I wanna leave, Teddy.” You whisper.

“Come on, love.” He murmurs, gently grabbing your hand as he shields you from your brothers and friends as he guides you elsewhere.

“Where is she, Nott? She is our bloody sister.” Tom seethes.

“You guys really don’t see what you guys did to her, do you?” He asks, laughing sarcastically as your friend group quiets,

“What?” Mattheo asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, she is a Riddle. But, she is by far the most empathetic, caring, and loving one of you all. She hides it well, yes, and when you all acted as if she were some…monster, you hurt her. You broke one of the most compassionate, loving, and caring hearts you could break. She loves each and every one of you deeply. You all are her family, yet you all had to be fools. She doesn’t know what she is capable of. She feels as if it’s a curse. I think it makes her unique and that she could do some amazing things if she were allowed to test her powers out. You all owe her an apology. Even then, I don’t think it’ll be enough. She is so scared of hurting somebody. Dumbledore is now aware of her magic as she has locked herself away in her room and won’t come out. He’s been trying to help her understand it while getting her work for her classes.” Theodore explains, his cheeks flushed red with anger.

It was silent amongst the friends and her brothers. He stood there a moment before leaving to let them let that settle. Maybe they’ll feel guilty, or maybe they’ll feel nothing. But, it deserved to be said.

“Y/n/n?” Theodore asks, surprised.

“I decided hiding away wasn’t doing me any good. It just allowed me more time to overthink. I’m going to try going to all my classes today.” You say softly.

You were sitting on the windows ledge, kicking your feet back and forth. It did make Theodore’s heart rate pick up, because one wrong move, you’d be plummeting to the ground.

“I’ll be fine, Teddy.” You say softly.

“Huh?” He asks.

“I learned I can read minds and memories with my magic.” You say.

He smiles, happy to see you growing more comfortable with your abilities now that it’s no secret with the Headmaster who was more than happy to help you learn what abilities you possessed and what you could do.

You climb off the ledge, walking to Theodore before the two of you made it your guys’ first class. You take a seat, ignoring Umbridge’s prying eyes.

“Nice of you to join us, Ms. Riddle. I honestly hoped you had left Hogwarts.” She said.

You chose silence, focusing on the board. You had always lived in silence before, so why change that now? It wouldn’t get you anywhere. Simply glancing into her mind allowed you to see her next move and you were left unfazed as her hands slammed on your desk as she was in front of you.

“Answer me, Ms. Riddle. Haven’t you heard it’s impolite to ignore your professors?” She asks.

“Sorry, Professor Umbridge, I’m unsure of what I am answering.” You say.

“Where have you been?” She asks.

“Ill.” You reply shortly.

“You would’ve been fine within a few days. It’s been six weeks.” She snaps.

“If you’d like, you can owl Headmaster Dumbledore. He was a great help as he helped me recover.” You answer.

The doors open and in walk your brothers, but your gaze never leaves Umbridge’s. She scoffs, looking offended and you question what you had done.

“That’s it. Write lines. Write, “I will not give attitude.”” She snaps, throwing the quill a pad of paper on your desk.

You stare at it, not wanting to write lines. You don’t want the nasty scars it leaves behind. You faintly heard her scolding you and demanding you write lines.

“What exactly is she writing lines for, Professor, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mattheo asks, trying his hardest to sound polite.

“Literally nothing.” Theodore mutters from behind you.

“What was that, Mr. Nott?” Umbridge asks.

“Professor, may I go to the matron? I feel unwell.” You murmur.

“Write your lines first.” She snaps.

You reach a hand out for the quill, trying to suppress the shakiness as you grab it. You take a breath in before letting it out as you begin to write, allowing your magic to inflict it upon her instead of you.

She gasps, lifting her hand to see the words your writing appear on her hand. She storms over to you, snatching the quill. You roll your eyes up to hers, feigning confusion.

“What did you do? You insolent brat!” She shouts, shaking her hand to wave out the pain which did nothing.

“Nothing, ma’am. What happened?” You ask.

The class gets up, you not realizing how much time had passed as they left. Your friends and brothers stayed seated.

“Leave! Besides you Ms. Riddle.” She seethes.

“Nope.” Mattheo says, popping the p.

“Crucio!” She shouts.

You gasp as Tom pushes Mattheo out of the way, taking the hit. He falls to the ground, his jaw clenched. You fall to your knees beside him, your eyes watery.

“T-Tom? Hold on.” You whisper.

You cry out, fall to your side as her next spell hit you. Sectumsempra.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Draco shouts.

Your eyes turn green as a wave of green leaves you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut as you fight for control.

“Guys! It’s going to be okay. Pansy and Enz ran to get Professor Snape. Blaise and Draco ran for Headmaster Dumbledore. Just…just hold on, please.” Mattheo pleads, take one of your hands, and one of Tom’s.

His eyes were watering, seeing his older brother by minutes and baby sister by minutes in so much pain.

“Tom, you idiot. Why’d you do that? And Y/n/n…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never meant to do that. I love you so much and I couldn’t have asked for anyone else as a sister. I love you so much.” He says.

You feel a wave of tiredness wash over you as you continue to lose more blood. Your eyes flutter open, only to close again as you pass out. Tom was trying to sit up, only to be pushed down by Mattheo.

“Stay still.” He scolds.

“Y/n/n…check.” He grits out.

Mattheo turns to you, realizing your hand had gone limp in his. He shakes you urgently as fears of you dying filled his head. You let a little whimper of pain out which allowed him to feel calmer and to stop shaking you.

“Alright, move away so that we can help them.” Dumbledore says, hurrying in.

“I c-can’t leave them. They need me.” Mattheo says.

“We got him.” Theodore says quietly.

“Go.” Tom grits out.

“No! I’m not leaving you both!” He snaps.

Theodore, Blaise, and Enzo somehow managed to drag him out, Pansy and Draco following after in case they needed back-up in getting Mattheo back to the Common Room.

“You both are weak.” Voldemort says.

After your “mother”, Bellatrix, received a letter of what happened, a meeting was summoned. Your friends stared down at the table, along with their parents as they felt they were intruding. Tom and you were to stand, looking at him.

“Father, it was my fault.” You say, ignoring Tom’s sharp glare at you.

“Thomas!” Your father warns, in which Tom focuses his eyes back on his father with a clenched jaw.

“Father, please. It was me. She was angry with me and the boys simply stepped in to protect me. It was my fault. Please do not punish Tom or Mattheo. This is all my fault. I deserve to be punished.” You say.

“Mattheo is the only one whose name didn’t pop up in the letter. He is excused from this. But, Tom and you are not.” He says.

He points his wand, speaking, “Crucio!”. Your hands flew out, a green ward appearing around Tom as the spell bounced off of it. You used your other hand to hit the spell that now headed towards your father.

“You dare defy me?” He asks lowly, standing slowly as his eyes seem to turn redder.

“I said he had no part in this, but you choose to ignore what I had to say!” You snap, your own eyes turning green in anger.

He falters, his eyes changing to ones of surprise before he raises his wand.

“I would feel terrible about having to kill my own child, but it’s evident you’ve been experimenting with your powers. If you continue to stand up to me and be a threat to me, I’ll have no other option than to kill you.” He speaks.

“Don’t lie, father. You’d feel absolutely nothing. But, what if I did this? I reverse all your work?” You ask.

“Don’t you dare!” He shouts.

You clench your jaw as you flay your arms out as green lights up the room. You watch your father drop his wand as you levitate him. You continue to search his mind for all the objects that were horcruxes before your magic reached out to retrieve it and piece his soul back together. He yells and curses at you, but you aren’t affected.

The green light disperses as you lower your father who had a sharp jawline, blue eyes that matched Tom and yours. He was tall and lanky, but you could tell it only meant he was toned. His brown hair was carefully styled. He looks at his hands before turning to a mirror and staring at himself. He spins back towards you, storming towards you.

“What the hell did you do to me!” He shouts.

“You are no longer immortal. You are mortal. I could…however…make you immortal in a different way. But, I’m questioning if you even deserve that respect, father. You’ve treated your children like shit since they could walk. You’ve tortured us. You don’t care, nor love us. You are as much of a monster and a coward as some of the muggle’s I hear about with their children.” You seethe, walking towards him as he slowly backs up.

“I do love you three! And I care about you! You wouldn’t know a damn thing because you're so naive!” He shouts.

You decide to peek into his mind. You become humbled as some twisted part of him has loved and cared for you…but this new him allows him to express it normally and you can tell he is confused with the feelings. He’s scared.

“I’m not naive…you’ve done well hiding your true feelings towards us our entire life. Horcrux and disembodied you allowed you to experience love and care, yet those were warped. You had a very screwed up way of showing it. But, this way will allow us to see how you truly feel towards us.” You say, motioning to him.

“I want to be immortal, Y/n. I have plans I must go through with.” He says.

You turn, taking a seat and resting your chin on your hand as you look back at him.

“I’d be more than happy to make you immortal again. A spell I made and might I add that it works perfectly, no risks. But, I have one little thing I don’t want to happen. You’ve cowered behind your followers for far too long, father. A true leader leads the war. Not to mention, you have children involved. You’re willing to go to war with innocent children who may lose their lives. They’ve only ever heard what their parents said and they are far too young to even begin to think of what they truly believe. This against you adults. It doesn’t involve us. Nor, the children attending Hogwarts.” You say.

“You kids are far more talented and excelled.” He says.

“Father…I don’t see the point of this war. You’re a half-blood…which makes Tom, Mattheo and I half-bloods as well. You’re deeming it your right to lead a war for a pure-blood world, but what about us? How does it make it fair?” You ask.

“Because we aren’t like the other half-bloods and mud-bloods. We are far more powerful than them…smarter than them, stronger than them. Look at you for example. You possess abilities that no one else can. You possess magic that is otherworldly. Tom is much like me who can use wandless magic and see into the minds of even our most challenging opponents. Mattheo, he is much like your guy’s mother—the magical way—as she possessed ancient magic and as does Mattheo. Mattheo and Tom remind me of myself when I was younger just from the way they act. But, you…you remind me so much of your mother.” He says, managing a small smile at me.

You were unsure what to say, thrown off by what a mood change he just had. You also found yourself wanting to ask him questions of your mother whom you’ve never gotten the chance to meet as she died in childbirth.

“Meeting will be prolonged for now. You may go to the living room for now. I want a moment with my children.” Your father says.

People soon filed out of the room, Enzo being the one to close the doors with hesitancy. You shoot a smile his way and nod, seeing that he looked much more relieved to close the doors. Mattheo was still sitting where he had been, but Tom took a seat across from you.

“What was she like…our mom?” You ask.

“Your mother was…beautiful…you much look like her aside from the eyes. Mattheo got her eyes. Tom, you have her nose and lips. But, most importantly…you all share her big heart and her logical mind. She too didn’t see my views on why I wanted to go to war. She despised it unless I could truly find the reason behind it. There never was a reason besides I wanted a pureblood world. But, her and I…I never knew what love was until your mother. I believed I was incapable of loving or feeling in general until your mother walked up to me with one of her perfect, soft smiles. She was bold, fearless, and so smart. That was the side everyone got to see. But, as she and I grew closer…I got to see how big her heart was for her friends and family, just like yours Y/n/n…and to see how much she cared.” He says, his eyes faraway as he thought of your mother.

“How were you both after graduating?” You ask.

“We were perfect. We spent the next two or three decades madly in love when I had decided to move forth with my plans. By then, my old friend Abraxas had a little boy, Lucius. I watched my friends have children, but my friends died. It was their children I began to seek forth on the war. As they began to choose to have children, I realized how quiet your mother had gotten. She always watched. I asked about it one day naturally only to learn that she too wanted children. So, we began to try, which didn’t take long till she found out she was pregnant with you three. I would do anything to go back to the day to see that smile.” He says, smiling sadly.

“If you don’t mind…I could reflect on your memory so we could all see.” You say and he nods.

Naturally, he had been thinking about the day, so when you tapped his temple, it didn’t take long to find it. Soon, the four of you were quietly staring at your mother. It was a little snippet, her smile that was indeed much like yours, her brown eyes lighted with so much joy and love as she held a pregnancy stick up.

“I was unaware that your mother had a bleeding disorder. The pregnancy went well and when her water broke, we were ecstatic. I’ll admit I was rather nervous, but she couldn’t wait to get out the door and to the hospital to have you. She was so excited. They did the c-section, she got to hold the three of you. She cried as she said how beautiful you three were. She said you were going to be triple the trouble. She whispered how much she loved you and that one day she’d see you again. I was confused, but she managed to kiss each of your heads before the nurses were taking you away with solemn looks. She knew she was going to die. The entire pregnancy, she knew. She knew she’d die or live. She agreed to one horcrux—me, to live immortally. The other half of her joined me that night when she didn’t make it out of the room.” He says, swallowing hard.

“That’s who I felt when I pieced your soul back together.” You whisper.

“You felt her? I feel her sometimes…used to I could talk to her and she’d speak back. She’s grown silent though and I feared that she was gone.” He admits.

“She’s there, her soul is growing weaker though. She wasn’t meant to live through you, but her own vessel…I…” You say, trailing off.

“What?” He asks.

“She has a spell to resurrect the dead as well. She is the child who has dabbled in muggle magic that never went anywhere, but she takes it somewhere. She made the three of us immortal with her immortal spell, feelings intact. She did give us each a way to die if we ever got tired of being immortal. If we decided we wanted to move forth and meet in another life.” Tom explains.

“Your mother use to make spells too…she spent the years we were in Hogwarts and up until you three were born trying to create a spell on immortality. She hated that I had gone through with horcruxes and was sure she’d be able to reverse it and give us a safer option for immortality…yet here you are and you did it sooner than your mother had been able to. You remind me so much of your mother.” He says, looking at you.

It was silent as you all looked at the memory of your mother who was so joyous finding out she was pregnant. You find yourself thinking she is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.

“I have a question.” Your father says.

“What's up?” Mattheo asks, trying to find a way to be less awkward around your guys’ father.

“Why does Theodore look at Y/n all the time?” He asks.

You look up confused, your brothers sharing an uncomfortable look as they looked almost defeated. Tom sighs and motions Mattheo on. Mattheo sighs.

“I didn’t tell you, Y/n/n, you just found out, okay? Theodore…he has had a crush or in your words, fancied Y/n/n since first year. He’s always been a bit scared to tell her as he would rather have her as a friend than not have her at all.” Mattheo explains.

You tilt your head in curiosity as you wonder why that never stood out to you. You had always fancied him, but you never assumed he’d feel anything back.

“I don’t quite know how to explain what it is I’m feeling…like…I love Y/n/n…I want to see her happy, but I don’t know how I feel about a boy fancying her.” Your father says.

“It's when you feel protective over someone. I’m sure you felt it often with mom.” Mattheo explains.

“I did…I was always embarrassed to ask her about the different feelings I would experience.” He admits.

“I’ll need her bones, some ingredients, but most importantly, I’ll be needing to carefully retract her soul from you dad…this part could hurt.” You say, turning to your father.

“That’s okay.” He admits.

“Is this it, my lord?” Lucius.

You, as much as you hated it, had a crowd who was rather intrigued by your magic and ability to create spells. You were slightly disturbed with your mothers remains being in the same room as you, but you knew it was necessary.

“Yes.” He murmurs, walking further into the room and sitting in the chair across from your mothers casket.

You place the metal bowl between the two as you start to add the ingredients in, you pause turning to your father as you strap him to the chair. He grimaces, realizing he may have misinterpreted how bad this would hurt, but he couldn’t complain. He wanted nothing more than the woman he loved back.

You raise your hands, having to clench your jaw of your fathers strangled groans and pained grunts as you pull your mothers soul free of him. You lowered it to the bowl, taking a match and lighting the bowl.

A wave of light fills the room, and you walk to the casket to see your mother there in the flesh and blood. You hear Tom helping your father free of restraints as you hold a hand out for your mother.

“Y/n/n?” She murmurs.

“Y-You recognize me?” You whisper as she fully stands.

“How could I not? You’ve turned out to be such a beautiful young woman…oh Mattheo…Tom, my boys. You three come here.” She whispers.

The embrace of your mother was something you realized you hadn’t needed so much. Her love, care, and warmth was what filled those missing parts in you—all, but one, but that was Theodore’s spot.

“You’re so pretty.” You murmur.

“Oh, love. Thank you, but it is you who is the prettiest girl to be seen.” She murmurs.

She holds you three tight for minutes, before leaving a long kiss on each of your heads before hesitantly letting you go. She looks at your guys’ father with watery eyes.

“I can’t say I haven’t missed you because I have. But, I still don’t agree with your views and how you’ve treated our children. But, when Y/n/n looked into your mind and pointed out that you had always loved and cared for them, it was just warped…I understood. But, I do believe the horcruxes played an effect. If the kids are okay with it, I’d love for all of us to start a clean slate.” She says.

Your father nods, his own eyes watery. You turn to look at your brothers to see them looking at you as your parents turn to you three. Mattheo does a little nod, and you turn to Tom. You could see his hesitance, but once he sees your encouraging smile, he does a little nod himself. You turn to your parents, nodding at them. They pull the three of you in a hug.

“What are you doing all alone out here, Teddy?” You ask, wearing a silvery dress that glitters.

Your makeup and jewelry was dark and green per-usual. He was in a tux, his tie terribly tied as he didn’t know how to. He had a cigarette in his mouth as he takes you in.

“Everyone is dancing and doing sappy stuff. Your brothers even had dates.” He says quietly.

You step forward, lifting your hands as you fix his tie. You look into his soft, yet intense eyes and smile.

“Teddy, would you like to dance with me?” You ask.

“R-Really?” He asks surprised.

“I only ask guys I like to dance, Teddy, so…would you?” You ask, holding your hand out to him.

“You like me?” He asks, taking your hand.

“More than you know, Teddy.” You say, smiling softly at him before you were gently dragging him to the dance floor.

A slow song comes on as you both start to sway. You requested this and then a waltz song next before letting the music officiant go back to their list. You saw your father and mother happily dancing as they whispered lovingly to each other. Mattheo was dancing with Astoria as Tom danced with a girl who was a year below you all. You periodically saw your friends amongst the dancing couples as they too danced.

“Love?” Theodore murmurs.

“Hm?” You hum, your eyes clashing with his.

“You like me in a more than friend way…right?” He asks, his eyes flickering over your shoulder out of nerves.

“That was what I meant, silly. Do you like me in a more than friend way?” You ask.

“Yes! I have for a long time…since first year, but I was just…I was so scared I’d lose you because you didn’t feel that way. I was everywhere…protecting you, and keeping guys away. You infiltrated my mind every waking moment of mine…you are my mania.” He says.

“Oh Teddy, I’ve liked you since first year too. I wish I would’ve said something sooner, but all is okay. We’ve told each other now.” You say, smiling softly.

“Since you were so bold earlier, let me return that…would you be my girlfriend?” He asks.

“Nothing would make me happier, Teddy.” You murmur, leaning up as he leans down to kiss you softly.

“Hey!” Tom, Mattheo and your father shout.

You both pull apart with soft laughter as you both look over to see them giving you both stern looks, your brothers’ dates trying to get them to leave you alone as your mother reigns your father in. You turn back to Theodore, a soft smile on your face.

“I love you, Teddy.” You murmur.

“I love you too, Y/n/n.” He whispers as the music shifts to waltz music and he groans as you grin mischievously.

It was then that he knew this was your doing, but he smiled goofily as he wouldn’t have this any other way.

#harry potter universe #masterlist #slytherin #hp fandom #angst #theodore nott #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #mrsriddles-blogunhinged #mrsriddles-blog #mrsriddles-blogisblogging

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 months

Text

Tempest

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader (third person, no use of y/n) Warnings: Very brief mention of drug use, heavy petting. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Michael provides shelter when they get caught in a downpour, and reveals some uncomfortable truths.

Author's note: Happiest of birthdays to @dreamymoomin // @in-a-mountain-pool - hope you enjoy this little gift! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It’s mid June in Oxford, a time when the air hangs thick and humid, the rain showers and storms as frequent as the blazing sunshine and cloudless skies. It’s an odd time of year, the feeling of transition as apparent in the weather as it is in the nearing finality of the end of term.

Exams have descended upon the students of every course, and while everyone studies hard, the need to let off steam is as burgeoning as the pressure in the atmosphere that promises thunder and lightning. The parties get wilder with every weekend that passes, a celebration of the turning in of coursework, completion of written assessments and an undeniable sense of finality; first year is drawing to its close.

She steps out of the wine shop on Turl Street, the nicest bottle she could find for under seven pounds wrapped delicately in navy blue tissue paper. Her friends in this city are of a different breed to what she’s used to back home; turning up to a party with a litre bottle of cider or a four pack of WKD Blue is social suicide. There is an unspoken, but incredibly obvious air of refinement, and if your face doesn’t fit then you’re destined for an incredibly lonely three years.

So, she has learned to play along. Turn up with fancy wine, pretend she’s one of them, until Felix and Farleigh show up with a wrap of cocaine and a bottle of Jägermeister, and things inevitably degenerate. They always degenerate. She makes her excuses and leaves whenever they arrive, she knows better now, having attempted to keep up in her first week, and then waking up the following day with an impending sense of dread and a general feeling of sickness that had continued to outstay its welcome after two days.

The social protocols are something she has perfected to a fine art; turn up, bring a bottle, ensure people see you, talk just enough to ensure you’re invited back next time, and then leave before things get too messy. It’s lonely, exhausting, and utterly unfulfilling, but it’s better than the alternative of being ostracised from her course mates.

As her feet land upon the pavement from the shop doorway, the sky blackens. Thick, grey clouds roll overhead and she looks up just in time to feet the first raindrop splash upon her cheek. Shit.

The sudden downpour makes her gasp, and though Trinity College is only a five minute walk away, she knows she’ll be drenched by the time she makes it back, so she runs in the direction of the Brasenose, seeking shelter beneath the covered entryway as she waits for the rain to pass.

She shivers, hair sticking to her neck, cursing under her breath as she watches the tissue paper that had been covering her wine bottle disintegrate in her hands. She shuffles to the side as she spots someone in her peripheral vision step beneath the entryway, giving them space as they lower the jacket they had been holding over their head.

“You’re not staying at this college.”

The brusque statement isn’t a question, it’s almost accusatory, and she snaps her head up, looking into the face of a person she recognises, but doesn’t know the name of.

“No…sorry,” she utters, awkwardly turning her bottle in her hands as more paper sloughs off of it. “Just waiting for the rain to pass.”

The rectangular glasses, sandy coloured hair and angular features are unforgettable. She had seen this guy hanging around with Oliver Quick towards the start of term and in the lead up to Christmas. When they’d all come back from break, she’d stopped seeing them together. Considering that Oliver now hung around Felix Catton like a shadow, it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. She felt sorry for him.

“You could be standing here for a while,” he tells her.

She watches as a droplet of rain drips from the cleft of his nose, before her eyes flicker up to his. “Better than getting soaked on the walk back to Trinity.”

He hums under his breath, regarding her warily. “You could make it back in under five hundred steps if you walked quickly.”

“Or you could invite me in until the rain passes,” she replies hopefully, her eyes meeting his.

She watches him carefully as he blinks once, twice, three times, his mouth twisting in a mixture of confusion and apprehension as he considers her proposition. She is certain he’s going to refuse, until he utters a clipped “fine”, before turning to open the door.

Following him in and up the staircase, she wonders why she had been so bold. There is no denying she is curious about him, the maths genius that everyone says had shouted “fucking ask me a sum then!” during the Fresher’s dinner, but she would never ordinarily ask a complete stranger to allow her into their room. He’s not even leading her to the common area.

As the door to his room clicks closed behind her, she takes in her surroundings. It could not be more different to the rooms of other boys she has visited during her time at Oxford. It’s clean, tidy to the point of being orderly, everything has its place. The bedspread is pulled taut against the mattress, pens and pencils are lined up perfectly straight next to the neat pile of notebooks on the desk.

She feels her skin heat up when she sees him standing there staring at her. She hasn’t even introduced herself.

“Sorry,” she says, giving her name with an embarrassed smile, “probably should have told you that before inviting myself up. And you are?”

“Michael,” he says, “Michael Gavey.”

He reaches for her hand to shake it, but withdraws upon seeing the soggy blue tissue paper it’s coated in, and she silently prays for the ground to swallow her up as fresh humiliation burns hotly through her.

“Here,” he says, passing her a towel that had been carefully folded over the back of a chair, “dry yourself off.”

She gives a quiet thanks, setting her bottle down on the bedside table, before toweling her face, hair and hands. It smells faintly of Head and Shoulders shampoo, and it’s oddly comforting.

Passing the towel back, she busies herself with opening the wine as Michael works to dry himself. Using the end of a fork that has been left upon the bedside table, she pushes the cork through into the bottle.

“What are you doing?”

She looks up, watching as he wipes at the lenses of his glasses with a cleaning cloth. He’s actually quite beautiful without them, less severe looking, his eyes are strikingly blue. Forcing herself to avert her gaze, she replies: “well, I can’t see a corkscrew.”

“No, I mean, why are you opening it?”

She gives an easy shrug. “Something to do while we wait for the rain to stop.”

Taking a swig of the cheap chardonnay, she winces slightly and holds it out to him. He hesitates, eyes shifting between the bottle and her, before he tentatively reaches out to take it from her. His own face contorts in disgust as he drinks, causing her to laugh.

“Only the finest for five pounds fifty!”

“Christ,” he winces, passing it back to her. “So, what are you reading?”

“History of art,” she replies, slugging from the wine bottle once more.

“Fucking hell,” he scoffs derisively, mouth turning up into a sneer.

“Oh fuck off,” she shoots back playfully, perching herself on the edge of his bed. “We can’t all be maths geniuses.”

He eyes her curiously. “How do you know I’m reading maths?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Recognition flickers in his eyes for a moment and she sees a tinge of pink flush his cheek, as he averts his gaze in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts hurriedly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s impressive, really, it is.”

“I don’t need one of Felix Catton’s vapid cunts to validate me,” he retorts, his tone suddenly icy.

Her brows arch, eyes widening as the comment hits her like a slap to the face. “I’m not…I’m not making fun of you,” she says quietly, “and Felix isn’t my friend, not that that’s any of your business.”

He narrows his eyes at her, putting his glasses back on. “Well, go on then.”

“What?”

“Ask me a sum. You’ve been dying to since you first saw me.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t going–”

“Just do it,” he interrupts with a sigh.

She chews her lip hesitantly, placing the wine bottle on the bedside table, before leaning back on her palms against the bed as she sits on its edge. “Alright. Two hundred and eighty four divided by sixteen?”

“Seventeen and three quarters,” he replies instantaneously.

It shocks her, he doesn’t really even have to take time to think about it.

“I’ve got no way of verifying if that’s correct,” she says, chuckling nervously.

“Hmm, why don’t we even the playing field then?” He says, coming to sit beside her.

She feels her breath hitch as the mattress dips beside her, his closeness making the humidity of the air seem hotter still.

“What do you mean?”

“You ask me a maths question, I’ll ask you a question, and it’s up to us if we believe each other’s answer.”

“Art history questions?”

“What do you think?” He shoots her a withering look.

“What sort of questions then?”

“Just ones about you. You’re in my room, after all, makes sense for me to get to know you.”

She swallows thickly, nodding. “Okay, that seems fair.”

“So, why aren’t you friends with Felix Catton?”

“I don’t like him,” she says honestly.

“Why not?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Just answer it.”

She wets her lips, considering her answer. It’s not something she’s ever really even admitted to herself before, let alone said aloud to another person. “I–I don’t like how he makes me feel…about myself.”

“Your turn.”

She turns her face towards him, noticing how close they’re sitting together. The smell of Head and Shoulders shampoo is more fragrant on him than it had been on the towel. “Eighty eight times ninety one?”

His skin breaks out into gooseflesh at the feeling of her breath upon it, and she smiles to herself as she watches him shift upon the bed, his answer slower than the first time. “Eight thousand and eight.”

He looks at her, his face so close to hers their noses almost touch. “Why do you hang out with Felix’s friends if you don’t like him?”

Exhaling shakily, she dips her face into the crook of his neck, feeling him tense beneath her touch, the proximity causing her own heartbeat to quicken. “Because I don’t want to be lonely,” she whispers. She ghosts her lips tentatively against the flesh of his neck, delighting in the way he shivers. “Six hundred times three hundred and twenty one?”

When he breathes out, it’s audible, the faintest hint of a whimper carrying alongside the expulsion of air. “One hundred and ninety two thousand, six hundred,” his voice is strained as he replies, an indication that he’s struggling.

He reaches across, long slender fingers gripping her thigh, out of desire to touch her or simply to ground himself, she is unsure, but she takes the initiative, slinging her leg over his lap. She can feel the rapid hardening of him through the fly of his cargo shorts.

“Why did you want to come up today?” He whispers, turning his head, nuzzling into her still damp hair.

“To get out of the rain,” she utters, gripping the front of his t-shirt as though it’s a lifeline.

“Liar, the rain’s stopped now.”

The darkness of his tone causes her core to squeeze involuntarily, excitement making her tummy flutter. “I was curious about you, you seem lonely too.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“That’s two questions,” she chides, pulling back, resting her forehead against his.

“Answer me,” he insists, his grip on her thigh tightening.

As she looks at him, his pupils dilated, full lips parted, she knows she has no intention of going to the party later. From the moment she met Michael, her plans had changed without her ever being aware of it.

“Yes, I want to stay.”

He leans in, lips pressing feverishly against hers, and as she kisses back, savouring the taste of cheap white wine upon his mouth, it feels as though the pressure has finally lifted. She hopes it rains forever.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michal gavey x y/n #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #saltburn #satlburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fic

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itsnotgray · 10 months

Text

what a duo | jack hughes

imagine jack hughes with a grumpy x sunshine trope

like you’ve got mr.sunshine personified, who somehow winds up with his own little storm cloud.

he meets her at a bar in jersey, where she’s sitting in the corner, fondly watching her friends, happy to stay out of their chaos. and jack just spots her from across the room, dead set on getting to know who she is.

now, the second she makes eye contact with him, she knows who he is. how could she not? his face is plastered all over jersey, the gem of the city. but does that make her change her normal attitude? ahahaha- no.

she immediately locks eyes with him, and says “no, nice try,” and makes her way to her friends, unable to see jacks entire body seemingly recoil at her rejection.

a few days later, one of nico’s friends is having a baby shower, and nico unfortunately couldn’t make it, claiming he was “sick” (jack knew the man had a date he thought jack didn’t know about) instead, sending jack in his place.

jack, while loving to be social, isn’t into being social with a massive crowd of strangers. so instead, he gravitated towards the corner. where, surprise surprise- he’s met with the face of the woman who rejected him.

upon seeing the man, she goes to move away, before seeing his demeanor not as cheerful as she remembered it (which she instantly decided she hated. he should always be cheerful- it looked so much better on him).

“what, not running away this time?” he snaps, eyes glued to the masses of people congregating in the backyard. after a few beats of silence, she sighs, before answering, “i’m sorry.” “stormy, apologizing to me? never thought i’d see the day!” he exclaims, cheerful personality seeping through his pores yet again, a brightness within him unable to be contained.

she giggles, quickly getting used to his antics, before pausing. “…stormy?” she questioned, head tilting in jack’s direction (jack thinks she looks adorable- a bit like an angry kitten).

“well when i saw you in the corner of the bar, you looked like the sad guy in the cartoons who has a literal storm cloud hovering over their head,” he shyly muttered, taking a sip of the now warm drink clasped in his hand, glancing nervously towards the sea of people.

a longer period of silence ensues, jack beginning to grow fearful of her reaction. so much so, that he goes to get up to relocate to the opposite corner of the room, before she suddenly speaks.

“well then i guess that makes you sunshine?” she questions in a teasing tone.

“excuse me?” he quickly answers, confusion radiating from his body.

“if i reminded you of a storm cloud, then i guess that makes you sunshine. because the minute you made your way towards me, despite my reaction, you lit up the room jack. so- that makes you sunshine,” she finishes, her cheeks growing red, matching the red tinge on jack’s cheeks

at her sudden outburst, jack has relaxed back into his seat, a comfortable silence now taking over.

the pair sit in a short silence before jack breaks it, “sunshine and a storm cloud- what a duo we are,” he states, causing the duo to burst into a fit of giggles.

and that- that was the start of something truly beautiful.

#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey oneshot #new jersey devils #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl hockey #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines

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cameronspecial · 10 months

Note

grumpy x sunshine with rafe?

Two Happy Kitties

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Masterlist

Rafe’s sunshine is the only person, who can change his resting bitch face to a child-like grin. It happens almost instantaneously when he sees her brilliant smile. He hates to admit that she chipped a way into his heart. Her goals became his goals. Her happiness became his. And when something upsets her, he becomes the gray grumpy storm cloud he is known for. He’s good at controlling his emotions, keeping his more cheerful moods between the two of them, but sometimes, he knows his sunshine needs a little reassurance of his happiness.

The fairground is filled with laughter and screams. Multiple food trucks emit a smell that makes her mouth salivate and search for the source of the delicious treats. Y/N has always been a child at heart, so when she spots the face painting booth, she knows exactly what she wants to do first. Rafe pays for her, of course, and watches as the artist turns his girlfriend’s face into a cat. He can’t believe he paid fifteen dollars for the artist to paint the tip of Y/N’s nose pink and draw three lines on each of her cheeks, but it makes her happy, so he doesn’t argue. As she gets off of the chair, she takes his hands into hers and guides him to sit on it. He is going to protest, but Y/N speaks before he can. “Turn him into a cat too, please,” she orders the makeup artist, pulling out her wallet to pay him. The other man gives Rafe a questioning face. The artist notices Rafe’s all-black outfit and regular sour face, figuring Rafe isn’t the type of person to want this. When Rafe doesn’t refuse, the worker gets to work.

Three minutes later, Rafe stands up and approaches his sunshine with tight lips. His expression hasn’t changed from his normal one as he looks down at Y/N. Upon seeing his face, her smile drops and her eyes show her worry. “Do you not like our matching face paint? You don’t look happy,” she frets, looking down in disappointment. Rafe’s heartaches at the look on her face. He needs to fix this as best as he can. He gives her a smile reserved only for her before connecting their painted noses, “What are you talking about? I love being a kitty with you. You look so adorable, Sunshine,” he whispers to her, bringing their lips together. She lets out a giggle at his words and mumbles a thank you against his lips. They pull away from each other and her eyes scan the festival in search of what to do next. She spots a stuffed animal she longs to possess and drags him to the fair game. He sees the surprised look the people give him as they walk through the crowd. Even if they don’t know him, they can feel that his painted face doesn’t match his usual personality.

Rafe doesn’t care about the stares though, not while he sees the grin and hears the giggles coming from his girlfriend. He would gladly let them be two happy kitties together if it brought her this much joy. Everything he does is for her.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron

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dokifluffs · 3 months

Text

Sit Close | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Sakusa X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: fluff? but with angsty vibes??

Author’s Note: I deadass don’t know where I was going with this. I just wanted to write something “deep”

gif from @rivaillerose

The sound of electricity were raw in his ears. He had been here for so long, it was all he could hear despite all the busy bodies that buzzed all around him, past the room. At this point, it just sounded like flies in his ears, making his skin crawl the longer he sat and sat but he stayed put. Only you could make him move but until otherwise, he stayed.

Storm clouds brewed darker and thicker in the sky, not letting a single ray of sunshine peek through the clouds, only Mother Nature smothering the world with her frigid rain, each sending a spark of electricity down your spine whenever one landed on your body. He hated how gloomy it was, especially where the two of you were but there was nothing in his power he could do. There was nothing he could do.

The only thing he could do was sit close. Until otherwise.

His body was stiff and still like a statue, only feeling a slight creak whenever he moved just a little. He trained his eyes on you, not letting anyone or anything else take his attention away.

Today was too precious. You were too precious.

You breathed short, shallow breaths, eyes closed as you rested peacefully. You laid fast asleep, a fact that kept the ocean inside him calm and steady but he knew there was a storm in the distance. A storm that was inevitable to evade or to suppress.

He held your hand with all his might yet never hurting you once, never holding you tighter than he would a delicate flower. His thumbs grazed over your nails, your fingertips, the pads of his fingers danced across your palm, taking in, imprinting the feel of how warm you were into his body, into his soul.

His eyes burned with every minute, every hour that passed, never leaving you once, never leaving your side. Sitting close until otherwise. But you were too precious, you were his flower. Something, someone he never thought he would care to admire in the summer sun, in the whole wide field of the world. Never thought he would care to take a close look, to see how you would grow and bloom. To notice the little aspects of you as a flower. How you ate, how you lived, how you would love. He never thought he would feel so comfortable as your roots and stems looped around him, burying deep into his heart and soul until he was mesmerized. He never thought about how he could so easily cut you out of his life, to rip every stem and root out of him. You had grown and bloomed right inside of him and he never wanted to pull you out or see you wither away.

You were too precious.

How did something so fragile, so vulnerable become such a necessity in his life when he lived just fine before, walking over other plants and flowers, not paying them any mind. How did you get through?

Your chest rose as you took a deep breath, your eyes opening, adjusting to the light. The warmth in your hand squeezed as you blinked away your sleep, the image of kiyoomi becoming clearer and clearer.

“Omi~” you chimed, pushing your voice through your dry throat. “What’s got you so down?” You leaned your head onto the edge of the pillow, trying to be closer to him. Closer to the warmth.

“Don’t move, I’ll move to you, germ,” he spoke bluntly though there was a fond softness when he called the name he had given you. “How do you feel?” He leaned closer as you turned onto your side slowly, though it felt like your muscles whining and your bones creaking before you found the right position.

“Tired… I wanna go home, Omi… I don’t like,” you paused to cough, turning away the best you could, Kiyoomi leaning back faster though but standing to his feet. With one of his hands firmly spread on your back, holding you up just the slightest, he brought the cool glass to your lips, helping you drink the even cooler water. You could feel it go down your throat, the further it went, the more the liquid spread into your dehydrated body. “Thank you,” you cleared your throat.

He laid you back down, his hand lingering before he had to move it away. But before he could take it back completely, your hands had latched on. You nuzzled yourself close, rubbing your cheek into his, resting your face on his hand.

“What were you saying, germ?” He leaned close, his head resting on the edge of the mattress too, just a few inches away from yours.

“I wanna go home.. I don’t like this bed, Omi.. It’s uncomfy and I’m always cold.”

He breathed in, and out shakily. “I know, but it’ll just be a little bit more until I get you checked out, okay?”

“You should get some rest.. I’ll be here.” He whispered, sitting himself back up in his seat but still leaned forward and close.

“Will you stay here?” You yawned, your breaths beginning to shorten.

“I’ll stay this close,” he rubbed his thumb slowly along your cheek, letting his touch graze your soft, warm skin lull you as he kept his word.

He sat close. Watching over the flower of his life.

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanaons #haikyuu scenarios #saskusa #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x reader #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi scenarios #dokifluffs

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diana-rose-25 · 3 months

Text

☆Hidden Divination Teaser

pairing/s: Hashira! Kyojuro Rengoku x Hashira! Reader (for a brief time), Hashira! Sanemi Shinazugawa x Hashira! Reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat themes: brief description of pedophilia, miscarriage, child abuse, child endagerment, child marriage, child pregnancy, death, mentions of sexual s/a, mentions of ptsd, panic and anxiety attacks, miscarriage

description: How can you make noise in an empty can? How can you write with no ink? How can you live without a will? How can you have hope in a world that has relentlessly failed you over and over again? How is (Y/N) still alive after everything? It's a gift, a blessing, as most would say that she is still alive and kind. "She feels like the warm sunshine after the rain," "always smiling, always so lovely," most would describe, yet a certain Wind Hashira will say otherwise. Not because he disagrees, but because he knows — he saw — how a woman everyone says is almost invincible and gifted and warm, has her hidden storm beneath the sky.

Warning: Mentions of past s/a, child abuse, child pregnancy, miscarriage, pedophilia.

“I got pregnant when I was twelve.”

Sanemi was surprised his head was still intact to his neck at how he turned beside the girl so fast. The air surrounding the two of them became heavy with the confession. The white-haired man could only stare silently at the girl with wide eyes, frozen in place, feeling mixed emotions of disgust, anger, (not towards her, of course) and sadness.

"I got pregnant by a much older yet non the wiser man back in my village."

The two of them sat at the porch on one of the Wisteria Mansions provided by the corps for recovery after missions. There are no bruises or cuts that litter their bodies anywhere. They didn't even face any demons this day. Yet, in Sanemi's opinion, this has been one of the hardest and most painful mission he has ever encountered yet.

He wishes Masachika is here with them. He's far better than Sanemi with these heavy emotional encounters, but he's sent on another mission, leaving him to deal with this alone.

The two of them sat side by side, a three feet distance between the two of them. The girl, no older than fifteen, sat with her legs together, back straight, with her hands folded on top of her lap. She's sitting there so quiet and serene, as if she didn't drop the deepest, darkest lore of her origin seconds ago.

Sanemi felt his fingers twitch — to reach out to her and comfort her, or find the damned man who did those unspeakable things to her, he didn't know.

(Y/N) didn't look at him, her gaze focused on the sky above them. It is a wonderful night. There are no clouds that can hide the view of the stars that shine above them, the luminescent light of the full moon, it is heartbreakingly beautiful this silent, serene night. Try as she might hide it, the beautiful night sky also can not conceal the tears that pool her beautiful eyes despite the small smile on her face.

"I lost the babe when he pushed me down the stairs."

He swallowed the lump on his throat painfully, lips parting and closing again as he tried to find the words that are appropriate in this situation.

Sanemi couldn't remember what led to this moment. Maybe it was the mission earlier, maybe its been bottled up for so long that she had to share it with someone, or maybe she's starting to trust him now after a year of joining the corps. He didn't know. Sanemi didn't know many things, and he isn't certain about all the things he knows, but one thing for certain is that he's not going away any time soon.

A gentle breeze caused (Y/N) to close her eyes, welcoming the gentle wind to cress her face in a sense of comfort, and brushes her hair away from her face and wrap her in a cold hug.

For the millionth time that day, Sanemi's heart broke at the familiarity of it all. A long time ago, this exact same scenario happened to a sweet, kind, and beautiful woman who didn't deserve any of it. They had done nothing in their lives to deserve any of this. Nobody deserves the lives they've lived.

(Y/N) felt his presence come closer with caution, as if she's a gazelle that would scatter away if he moved too suddenly. Her eyes are still closed as her smile grows a little. She didn't mind his presence. If anything, she felt safe around him the moment her corps fitting disaster. She knew he wouldn't do anything that would cause her discomfort.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when she felt a caloused yet comforting hand rest on top of hers. (Y/N) opened her eyes and turns her head slowly to face the white-haired man beside her.

Sanemi's lips parted when her eyes met his, it was filled with so much pain and agony as much as it was beautiful. When she didn't pull away, he grips her hand a bit more tightly — not enough to inflict pain, but enough to provide that secure comfort (Y/N) could not find anywhere else other than her father figure Gyomei.

With much needed courage, Sanemi brought his other hand on top of her head, patting it gently with a rare smile, albeit pained.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

It wasn't his fault. He had no need to say sorry to what happened to her in the past. He wasn't there, and he didn't have any part to play in it. Those words had never much impact on her, used to that comment with the select few she shared her story with, but with the way he said so sincere and soft, salty tears unknowingly ran down her face.

(Y/N)'s body shakes into a full sob the moment Sanemi pulled her closer in an embrace, holding her tightly as she falls apart right in front of him.

Yes, there is no more doubt in her mind. Underneath the cold sky and with the stars and moon as witnesses, here in his arms, (Y/N) had never felt more safe and protected.

I do not own Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) and their characters.

divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx and @inkedreverie

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