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mrs-johansson · 2 years

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With fire and blood - Chapter 2: Avengers - I got red in my ledger

Part 14: 🌶

“France? Italy? Spain? What do you think?” I asked Natasha as we were looking for our vacation destination. Laying in bed with my laptop in my lap while I was resting against Nat’s front, her arms wrapped around me, chin resting on my shoulder. “Or Japan? Maybe South America, but I don’t really like that one.” I rumbled trying to find the best place to relax. “What about something small?” She asked and I stopped scrolling. I moved my head so that I could see her. “What do you mean?” She glanced away, trying to move her arms away but I held onto them. “I don’t know, something quiet and calm.” Said Tasha, a bit nervous. “Alright,” I turned back to the screen and checked all of our estates. “We have a farm type of thing in Atlanta. Very nice looking. 2 story house, Jarvis is working there also, a big garden, pool. Everything we’d need. What do you say?” I waited for her answer but for that, I got a kiss on my head and she squeezed me gently. “Perfect.”

“You know, I was thinking about telling my dad about the uhm… baby,” I said while packing up some clothes. “Really?” Natasha asked from the sofa. “He’s my dad, he deserves to know. And I also want to go through my mission report from the Red Room. I want to know everything, every little detail.” I looked at her and she seemed a bit shocked, but her face softened and lightly smiled. “If that’s what you want, I’ll be here every step of the way.” I just love her so much, man… It’s just impossible to put into words.

She got up from the couch and held my hands in hers. “You know I’m here if you need anything,” her emerald green eyes’ gaze was just lingering around my face like it was her natural habitat. “I know…” I looked down shyly, fidgeting with her fingers. “How are you really?” Her hand came up to my face, her thumb caressing my cheek kindly. I smiled at her careful look, every bone in her body was just so pure. “Well I guess fighting alien robots helped me to blow off some steam and have a chance to clear my mind, after everything. With time, a lot of time…” I sighed, wrapping my hands around her neck, “but I’ll be fine. I need closure. Let’s hope my diaries will do.” “You’re hurting from the lack of information. If you find out that you could’ve done nothing, then I’m sure it will ease your pain.” My fingers played with the tag of her shirt, carelessly touching her back at times. Her arms moved around my waist while talking, bringing me closer to her body. “You think so?” “I hope so.” She smiled softly before leaning in, connecting our lips in a sweet kiss. She kissed me repeatedly, making me smile. I opened my eyes to see those green eyes that I love so very much. I touched her hot, opening lips with the utmost piety. Her lips were like miniature clouds, so soft and full. The only light in the room was a smaller reading lap at the side of the couch, but that’s all I needed to see her flawless face. “You look heaven-sent,” whispered onto her parted lips, breathing in every tiny moment. Her perfume, hypnotic as always, pulled me in, not wanting to let her go. Our chins touched as I poked my tongue out to tease her upper lip. A shaky breath left her throat, her hot minty breath tickling my skin. “You sure you want this?” Her lips moved to my ear, leaving a trail of open-mouth kisses behind on my face. “Every inch of you…” I said before my hands moved to her neck, guiding her back in front of me, brushing our lips together. My body reacted instantly, like when you get home for the first time after a while. The feeling of security and familiarity.

Her hands slipped under my shirt, caressing my sides gently as ever. My thumb brushed along her pulse, sensing just how fast her heart was beating. Her fingers slowly traced up my spine, stopping at the back of my neck, gently sliding to the front, and tilting my head back by my jaw. “I know your moves…” I kept my eyes on her, a smirk pulling on her lips. “I know,” the words slipped out of her mouth so gently but her raspy, deep voice made everything more blazing. I followed the line of her arm right back to her abdomen, covered in a loose shirt. Glanced back into her eyes, seeing the fire and lust I haven’t seen in a while. That type of lust that I’m not scared of.

I held onto her wrist, took her hand away from my neck, and pulled her close, kissing her with passion. Our bodies pressed together, Tasha’s fingers digging in my hair. Slid my hands on her waist, turning her around, taking slow and small steps towards the bed. Our lips detached as I sat her on the end of the bed. Gilded my hand around her jaw slightly tilting her head back, red locks falling back from her face. Lagging leaned in inches from her face, before she lifted her hands and pulled me in her lap by my hips, my knees set at the two sides of hers. “Aren’t you impatient?” I smirked, seeing how on the edge she was. “I’m not someone you need to seduce…” she said. Her eyes screamed frustration, her heartbeat still not steady and I’m sure it won’t be for a while. “Oh honey, you haven’t seen me at my best.” Held Natasha’s face in both my hands, while her palms kept caressing my thighs. There was a sound, almost like a growl she let slip. I leaned to her ear, gently biting her earlobe. “Just enjoy the ride, Agent Romanoff…”

A soft sigh left her mouth, her hands rooming my body while I kept kissing her neck, trailing down to her collarbone then back to her pulse, nipping and sucking on the pale skin. Natasha’s breathing got heavier and heavier within seconds. Her fingers shuffled with the hem of my shirt, making me pull away and she wasted no time pulling it off of me, letting the fabric fall from her hands then attaching her hands back on my now almost bare abdomen. Those familiar soft and careful touches drove me crazy. We’ve been building this up for weeks now, my body aches for her touch.

As the moments got more heated, I lowered myself a bit more and started moving my hips slowly against her clothed core. Muffled moans left her throat as our lips remained sealed. Nat’s fingers skimmed over my skin, sending a rush of blood to every part of my body. Slipped my hands under her shirt, brushing my thumb over her hard nipple, before moving back down to pull her shirt off, leaving her half-naked. Her hands were quick to unclip my bra, basically ripping it off of my body. The sudden contact of our bare chest made me gasp and send shivers down my spine.

Soft hands roomed my body, leaving wet kisses all over my chest and neck. Our hips were molded together, moving against each other like two wild teenagers. “I missed you. I missed your skin. Your touch.” She mumbled against my neck as she bit the skin, making me let out a shaky breath. I moved my hands to her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed and hovering above her.

Grabbed her wrists and crossed them above her head, pinning them against the mattress. Smashing our lips together, her hips lifted from the bed, but I was quick to push her back down. “Stay down,” I leaned back, kissing down her neck. Leaving behind smaller bruises on her pearly skin. I kept rocking my hips against hers, creating some kind of frantic feeling.

My hand found the edge of her sweatpants, and her hips were quick to lift so I could pull it off, which I did in a swift motion, tossing it away. How I love her thighs… Caressed her soft skin as I let go of her wrists which were on me in less than a blink of an eye. “So beautiful,” I kissed down her chest, caring for both her breaths very generously. “Let me hear you love…” Whispered against her soft skin before her raspy groans hit my ear, making me pull a smirk on my face. “There you go.”

“Y/N stop teasing…” Natasha breathed out, trying to push my head where she needed me the most. I came up to her face, kissing her deeply. Achingly slowly trailed my fingers down her tight stomach to the edge of her underwear, slipping my index finger under it then moving my finger to her side, pinching the thin fabric before starting to drag it down her thighs, not breaking eye contact for a second.

Her chest heaving as if she was demanded to do so. She was aching for more and I couldn’t wait to make it less painful for her. She was already breathless and dazed. “Please…” she whined and looked away, frowning from the frustration. I threw away her last piece of clothing and leaned back to her face, grabbing her jaw and carelessly licking her upper lip with the tip of my tongue. “Kak khochesh', lyubov'…(As you wish, love…).

Her arousal practically dripped on my hand as I kept rubbing over her. Loud moans and whimpers escaped her lips from left and right. Unconsciously rutting her hips along with my hand, basically riding my hand. Lifting my hand away, right up to my lips her eyes never left my fingers. Her dark orbs glowing in the light of the room, my finger finally disappearing in my mouth. Sucking her essence off my fingers before taking the digits out. “Just as sweet as I remembered…” I whispered onto her lips before closing the space between us. Natasha whimpered as she tasted herself on my tongue. Her hands came up to my side, bringing our hips together making me let out an unholy growl.

I moved between her thighs, giving raspberries kisses to the inside of them. Lifted her left leg over my shoulder, looking up at her tinted cheeks. My teeth sunk into her skin, her back arching. The air was hot when I met her trembling heat, my tongue pushing past her soaked folds to probe around greedily. My hands squeezed her hips as she slowly became a moaning mess. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think she lets her guards down like this with anyone.

Felt Nat’s hand in my hair, pulling on the locks of hair, trying to bury my face deep in her. “Don’t stop…” She choked out, giving me goosebumps. A groan ripped through her and I swiped my tongue against her clit. “Gosh…” The sheets under us tightened as Natasha gripped the fabric. Wasted no time in grumbling more strokes of my tongue, sending vibrations through her core.

Moving back up to her face, smashing our lips together she moaned into my mouth. My fingers grazed her dripping heat. Felt her wetness coat my fingers, already feeling how close she was. When my two fingers started rubbing her swollen clit in slow circles, her mouth broke away from mine to cry out. So vulnerable.

Moved faster as her hips rocked making my fingers sneak more onto her. I pulled back and took her bottom lip between my teeth and pulled as she groaned. Removing my teeth, I sucked on her lip while my fingers still thrusted inside her and her shaky sounds filled the bedroom.

Her hips rolled even faster now, wanting that ecstatic feeling so badly and matching the pace of my moving fingers with her hips. I moved away from her and watched her unravel in front of me. Her eyes shut and threw her head back. Natasha’s back arched and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, but I pushed her back down by a hand on her lower stomach. When she couldn’t hold it any longer, she let out a cord of moans as she finished around my fingers. Hips that were once moving so desperately for me turned tired and trembled, making it hard for her to move at all because of the high. My fingers pulled out of her but my thumb still rubbed ruthlessly on her clit, bringing her down from her climax.

I lifted the fingers that were once inside her up towards my mouth once again. She watched as I licked her honey off each one of my fingers and kept my eyes locked on hers.

Chest heaving, sweat dripping from both of our foreheads. Natasha seemed like she couldn’t wrap her head around what just happened. Leaned down to her face and gave a light kiss to her swollen lips. Then one to each of her cheeks, her forehead, and nose. Pulled back a little to look into her tired eyes, hoping to see any reaction. “You alright?” I whispered but she kept scanning my face. “Nat…” I called out then she lifted her head off of the mattress, connecting our lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you.” I shot my eyes open to be lost in her eyes once I opened mine. I didn’t know if it was in the heat of the moment or if she actually meant it, but it felt like the warmest hug, the sweetest kiss. “Are you serious?” I asked, checking if I’m not actually dreaming.

Her hands came up to cup my face while a smile pulled on her lips. “I love you, you dork.” That’s all I needed to hear before I started kissing her all around her face. The room was filled with her precious giggles until I leaned back. “I love you too. So so much.” I smiled, her thumbs caressing my cheeks. “I love you more.”

#black widow #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow x you #black widow imagines #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff x reader #gxg #marvel #natasha romanoff smut #black widow smut #the avengers #y/n stark #stark reader

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justasparkwritings · 2 years

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Merry & Bright {9}: Decorate My Heart

Previous: Bad Perfume

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut Light

Rating: R

Warnings: Making Out! Swearing!

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: It’s early in your relationship, but it’s clear that Namjoon makes you feel absolutely… glittery.

Listening: Glittery, Kacey Musgraves

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List

Tag List: @knjkitten @mochikeyds

Namjoon stares at you with what can only be described as heart eyes. Big, pounding, radiating mushy feelings, red hearts. He only knows how to see you through them, only knows how to articulate his feelings towards you with those damn hearts guiding him. It’s all mushy and romantic, falling in love under the guise of winter. Chilly night air, a Christmas movie playing softly in the bathroom as Namjoon giggles in your ear. Monie, having been brought from his parents’ house, lounges nearby, head pointing towards you both, a watchful eye on his beloved owner.

You snuggle into Joon’s side, your laughter shimmering from you, mixing with his. He can’t stop laughing, and neither can you. You can’t remember what he said, what triggered this never-ending fit that has you both red in the cheeks. Namjoon makes everything so… sparkly. The way he speaks, the way he stares at you, how tender and gentle he is when you’re around.

“Stop laughing!” You request.

“You stop!”

“I can’t, it’s your fault!” Your head turns into the crook of your neck – and suddenly, whatever was so funny isn’t anymore, because you’re sniffing his neck, and he’s smelling your hair. His hands are on your hips, your leg tossed over his, pulling him close. And suddenly – it isn’t cute anymore. It isn’t flirtatious giggles and heart eyes. This is more.

“Why do you smell so good?” You whisper, noose tracing an imaginary line up and down his neck. Your lips trail too, following the line you’ve traced.

“You do to,” Namjoon is keenly aware of the placement of his hips and how gently he’s guiding yours towards his.

“It’s subtle though,” You continue. You pull your nose free, opting to drag your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp.

Joon’s eyes have fluttered closed, head tilting back into your touch. “Ah,” He moans softly.

You take him in, the perfect curve of his jaw, the dip of the bridge of his nose. The spots on his cheek where his dimples reside. You’ve only kissed once, last time you saw each other. He pulled you close, clumsy hand cupping your cheek, his nervous lips meeting yours. It was hesitant, brief, no tongues dancing, no lust pouring from him to you… tentative, gentle, nothing more than a whisper of hope that they’d be more.

“Joon?” You whisper.

“Hm?” He asks, eyes snapping open.

“Can I kiss you?”

Namjoon thinks he’s heard you wrong. Why else would confusion be in his eyes?

“What?” He asks.

“C-can I kiss you?” Your voice is smaller, shine diminishing.

“Oh!” His grip tightens as it creeps down to your ass, holding it in the palms of his hands, pulling you closer to him. “Please do.”

Your smile is back, that twinkle in your eye shining before you lean in. Your lips first land on his forehead, then trail down to nose. His entire body shivers under your touch, starting at his toes, rippling all the way to his heart that’s beating so quickly he knows you can feel it. You continue kissing down his features. It’s tantalizing, each kiss a little gift attempting to prepare either of you for the next step, should you take it.

Namjoon tries to focus on your lips, on the softness and warmth they bring to his features. The blush you kiss kindly, the uneven pattern of his breath across your face. He’s so happy to be laid out on the couch, his insides shaken up like a snow globe.

“Y/N,” He whispers.

“Hm?” Your lips vibrate against his, not quite a kiss, but so close it could be.

It’s quick – the dip of his head, his lips pressing to yours, your breath lost in the heat of the moment. Joon’s not gentle and patient, he’s hungry and wanting. His lips move in time with yours, pulling you in, separating to allow his tongue to finally taste you. god he’s been wanting to taste you for weeks, devour you whole after unwrapping you perfectly. No rips or tears, no bows destroyed in the process.

You’re falling into him, hips tipping and grinding against him, hands trying desperately to sneak between his shirt and his flesh, burrowing you deep in his warmth. His short hair only posed little problems, it was finally at the point where you could tug it, securing him to you. His earrings, plentiful, dangle against your hand, a cool reminder that this man has his own shimmering bling. A little tinsel on the built tree that is Namjoon.

Your heart is pounding, the air outside absolutely chilly, turning what little precipitation is in the sky into delicate snowflakes drifting softly onto whatever surface they land on. Inside this apartment, it’s heating up. Your body temperatures mixing and rising with the friction. Joon pulls way first, needing a breath and a glance at you, taking in your flushed state, bruised lips the color of Santa’s suit, his cheeks the same shade. He’s glad you helped him set up the little tree in the corner, it’s lights casting a holiday glow over you. Monie’s fallen asleep, body positioned to watch both you and the door. Namjoon gulps, your eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“Can I,” He pauses. A wordsmith, a fucking Hermes in the body of a gentle giant, why can’t he ask the simple question he’s stuck on?

“Take your time,” You whisper.

“Can I take your sweater off?”

“Please,” You nod enthusiastically, sitting up to let him pull it over your head. Your flesh is sticky, sweat having begun to arise on your skin. “Can I take yours off?”

Joon doesn’t wait, optioning to pull the knit sweatshirt off. His t-shirt comes with, leaving his toned and taut muscles for you to take in.

You groan, pulling his lips back to you once more.

“What?”

“You’re incredibly sexy, and beautiful,” Your fingers trace his chest, gently circling his areola, barely ghosting over the sensitive skin before outlining the muscles of his pecks and abs.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“You’re fucking hot, okay?”

Already blushing, Joon kisses you again. “You are too, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t mean to objectify you,” You say, pulling away again, his praise lost on your ears.

“I know,” He agrees.

“I just, damn.”

He pauses, trying to decipher the expression on your face. Had he done something wrong? Not praised you equally, or fast enough? Had he miss spoke or said too much? Or – had he not said enough?

“Namjoon?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

He glances towards Monie. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No! No, you didn’t, I just,” You pause. “I got in my head.”

“Like I am now?”

“I just, you’re you, and I’m me. And I want to be enough for you, but I’m scared I’m not.”

Namjoon’s rarely been the object of desire – well, that’s inaccurate. Thousands of people lust after him, comment on his body, objectify him. But it’s different when the person he’s got a huge crush on, who he’s enjoying getting to know, who he wants to have around in his life as his girlfriend maybe, is shirtless in his arms… staring at him like he’s going to tell her she’s got coal in her stocking.

“I,” Namjoon starts. “I, no.”

“No?”

“No, I,” He exhales, quickly thinking through his next words carefully. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

You both recognize where this could go, dive into an intense conversation, Beebee Bluff falling through the ice only for Porkchop to rescue her, breaking her ankle in the process. You don’t want that, you want to skate around a while longer, gliding on the fresh powder.

You’re purposefully dismissive, tinged with a hint of honesty. “I’m just, you know, base level insecure.”

“Me too,” Namjoon confides. His eyes are earnest and warm, melting any fears and trepidations that’ve woven into this perfect winter moment. “But I really like spending time with you, and I really like kissing you.”

You laugh, the glittering sound twinkling as it descends and swarms the space between his ears. He commits it too memory, the bruised lips, the beaming grin, the warmth of you against him.

“Me too,” You bring your own heart eyes to his.

“Can I kiss you?” Joon asks once more.

It’s your turn to pull him in, lips connecting, his kindness and burgeoning crush decorating your heart.

His hands palm your exposed skin, touching every crevice, every line, every nook and cranny. He memorizes the dips and crests of your breasts, plotting and planning how he’s going to worship them later. You trace your fingers over his collarbones, tracing the defined dip of his pecks, letting your lips tend to the earrings in his earlobes, pressing his warm torso against yours if only to bring your hips against one another’s. Joon’s moans are gentle and bold, a pitch in harmony with your own.

Your body, arching into his, pulls away. You try to catch your breath, his lips somewhere near the top of your bra cups, your hands tangled in his hair.

“Namjoon-ah,” You coo. He stills, bringing himself up to you.

“Y/N?”

“Just wanted to look at you,” You smile. He smiles too. “You make me feel so…”

“So?”

Your smile doesn’t falter, only widens. “Glittery.”

Next: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 2

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startanewdream · 3 years

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The road home

Summary: Lily watches Harry and Ginny finding their way back to each other following the end of the war.

Note: For @madhulika18, who asked for more Hinny moments as seen by James and Lily. I could never decide if this is really part of Eyes Glistening (because Harry and Ginny have drama really, and I don't like them having drama), but it works either way, so I hope you enjoy these moments (also, I have a soft spot for Lily and Harry talking, so...)

_______

It’s all about the words that aren’t being said.

Once, a long time ago, Lily lived that with James. But it was different and, though, of course, it didn’t seem like that at the time, it was easier too. Her problems were unknowing her feelings, not understanding why she enjoyed his company and why she craved his smile, his light. She had fancied him for a long time before she understood what it was what she really felt for him — and until then it was only her heart beating faster when they would touch each other without meaning too (a brush of hands, sitting together closer than necessary), enjoying the perfume he’d left on his trace, finding excuses to be with him.

But after she had understood what she felt for him, somehow it had been easy. Awkward, sure, that first date when she was feeling stupid near him — until she remembered this was James, and being with him was good and blissful and then kissing him had felt as natural as breathing —, but there was never a question about how they felt about each other, never doubts that they would be together.

They had fought over many things, until they perfected the art of compromising, of understanding each other’s view, but there was never a breakup, never something that really kept them apart.

They are lucky on this, she knows.

Especially when she sees the look on Harry’s face, the way his eyes can’t help but follow Ginny as she walks around between the tables of the Great Hall, stopping to share words with her friends.

They haven’t talked yet. Lily knows this because Harry was gone with Ron and Hermione after the battle and then he slept for a full day. When he woke up, he called his parents and they talked then — the most difficult conversation Lily had ever had in her life and the one she knew she needed most. She and James. They needed to understand what had happened, why it had cost Harry’s life and what it had meant, but nothing had really prepared her to know her son had died.

Only the thought of it sends shivers through her body.

Harry is fine now, having come down to the Great Hall to lunch; there are fewer people at Hogwarts two days after the Battle, so they manage to find a place for them to sit quietly. It’s almost peaceful.

Except Harry is clearly not at peace.

‘Go talk to her,’ she whispers to him, and Harry turns to her with those eyes that are full of ghosts lately — he has seen and lived and died too much.

‘She doesn’t want me,’ he answers, breathing heavily as if the words are physically hurting him.

‘How do you know?’ James asks, exchanging a confused look with Lily.

‘Because she hasn’t come to talk to me.’

Lily thinks Harry didn’t go to her either, so maybe this is just a case of miscommunication. But she doesn’t say anything, because she believes things have to happen at the right time. And she has been watching Ginny too; every time Harry looks the other way, she glances in his direction, an expression on her face that Lily cannot understand exactly.

It seems to be ablaze.

_______

Later, Lily will define it as a dance where the dancers aren’t supposed to touch each other but still they synchronize their steps perfectly.

It’s unnerving, really, and she doesn’t know how they are really managing it, but if there is a quality she could attribute to both Harry and Ginny is stubbornness.

They can’t ignore each other, not really, not with how much they encounter each other — funerals and homages and dinners over the Burrow and rebuilding Hogwarts —, so instead they adopt a sort of relationship that’s just a shadow of how much they got along together.

Lily saw them before they even dated or had acknowledged their feelings for each other, and Harry and Ginny had shined together with chemistry as if they were two ingredients in a potion that demanded to be together. It was only friendship but there was sparkle and understanding and compassion and brightness. Lily remembers thinking that even if they didn’t develop romantic feelings for each other, they were truly soulmates.

And this is just one of the reasons why their current formal courtesy with each other bothers her so much. If they wanted to be only friends, there wasn’t much she could do. But they are not even friends lately, just two people who had gone through so much and hadn’t been able to share anything with each other despite wanting very much.

That’s the other thing that annoys her. They want more. Both of them.

She knows Harry, of course — he shares the same expressions and he wears his feelings on the same sleeve Lily does, so it’s easy —, and Lily likes to think she knows Ginny too, for the times they met, for all they’ve talked and for the fact that Ginny is usually blatant on her feelings when they are at the edge.

Usually. This time, it seems their stubbornness is getting the better of both of them.

They are alone most of the days of May. Hermione has gone to Australia to find her parents and Ron went with her, and Lily thinks this would be perfect for them to get together again – to have time to talk and to truly live their relationship without the threat of a storm above their heads.

But they don’t go to each other. They stay apart, even though Lily sees the cracks in their stubbornness when Harry breaks a glass after hearing Ginny talking about exchanging letters with an ex-boyfriend, and when Ginny suddenly leaves the room after Harry mentions Kingsley’s proposal to start the Aurors course.

James sees it too. He is always frowning when they are in the same room, and Lily knows no one rooted more for that relationship than James. So she is not surprised that he approaches her one morning when they are cleaning the mess the Death Eaters made in her office.

‘Do you remember when you forbade me from intervening in Harry’s love life?’ he asks in a nonchalant voice, cleaning a stain that looks a lot like blood on the carpet.

Lily nods with her head.

‘Maybe it’s time to change that rule?’ James asks then, now sounding hopeful.

Lily throws him the briefest of the looks, without turning away her attention from the cauldrons she is supposed to check if anything is worth saving.

‘Harry would hate it if we did anything.’

‘Harry would hate it if he knew we were doing anything.’

‘And James Potter can be discreet? How many detentions did you get just because you couldn’t help but flaunt your work?’

He raises his eyebrows challengingly.

‘That Slug Club dinner on my birthday. I was so discreet no one ever found out what we were doing.’

Lily blushes. He was absurdly quiet that night, indeed, despite her attempts otherwise.

‘Fine, you’ve got a point. Go on, but I’m warning you, if Ginny realizes what you are trying to do, she will hex you and I won’t stop.’

‘As long as she hexes me on their wedding day, I won’t complain,’ James says unabashedly, and Lily has to grin.

She is not feeling much confident — James’ love plans took him three years to her agree to date him, after all, and even then she had fallen in love with him when he had given up on any plan at all —, but she can’t deny James is creative and it’s better trying anything than watching Harry sigh all over the place, heartbroken and unhappy.

During the year they were out, their house has been searched over and over; their furniture is broken and there are spots of red ink — or blood — in every room, with curses or slurs written on every wall. They could just easily destroy the house and build a new one, but it feels good to clean the place; it feels like a new beginning.

Maybe this is what James is hoping to give Harry and Ginny because he asks for her help in rebuilding their house. Ginny accepts surprisingly quickly, probably guessing that Harry will still be occupied with the work at Hogwarts.

‘Thanks for the help,’ Lily says after she and Ginny manage to clean the debris away from the stairs, so now the first floor is available for them to start cleaning up the rooms.

‘No problem, it’s good to be out of the house,’ Ginny notes, drying the sweat on her face. ‘Sometimes it feels… too claustrophobic there.’

Lily raises her eyebrows, indicating around the hall, where the number of things still to be organized makes the corridor seem a lot smaller than it is. Ginny gives a small chuckle.

‘It’s just — Mom is trying to compensate, I think. Ron is not here and I am the youngest and she needs to take care of something, after — after everything that happened. So, yeah, I need some time to myself.’

‘Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to do?’ Lily asks, concerned now. Ginny just shrugs.

‘Since I can’t fly, this seems like the best available option,’ she says. ‘And it feels good to be doing something — and there is so much to do here. The Death Eaters made a mess.’

‘That could be said for everywhere.’

‘And everyone,’ Ginny adds softly, and she returns to the cabinet she is trying to fix without saying anything further, but Lily doesn’t think she needs to. She saw Neville’s bruises, she saw Luna’s scars and she has a pretty good idea of how it was at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s regime.

But Ginny keeps her marks quietly, and Lily knows there is only one person she will be able to talk to.

The next day, James comes home earlier from Hogwarts with Harry. There is an awkward moment when Harry and Ginny meet in the kitchen and James mentions that now the main work over Hogwarts is done, Harry volunteered to help get his home back again.

‘Any problem?’ James asks genially, making both Harry and Ginny jump.

‘No,’ they say at the same time, and it doesn’t convince anyone.

Lily never noticed how big their house was until she realizes Harry and Ginny still manage to avoid each other except during mealtimes, so she decides they can get past subtlety. She and James start to ask them for help for the same rooms until they eventually are paired in the same tasks.

She doesn’t hear them talking, but it seems to work, albeit at the slowest pace ever.

‘You won’t believe who asked Sirius for an interview,’ James says one night after they settled for the day and they are having dinner before Ginny returns to her house. ‘Rita Skeeter.’

‘What scoop does she want now?’ Harry asks, rolling his eyes. ‘I am still awaiting her biography about me.’

‘What will be called?’, Ginny asks, and Harry turns to her with his eyes already shining with the joke.

‘Easy. Harry Potter, chosen or undesirable one?’

She laughs – it’s a short tentative laugh, but it’s there, and Harry smiles too. James exchanges a look with Lily, but she shakes her head warningly to him.

‘What Skeeter wanted with Sirius?’ she asks, putting the conversation back into place. It was just a shared joke. There is still a long road ahead.

‘Oh, gossip on you and me, actually, which unfortunately is something Sirius thinks it’s too funny to pass – and also he has a soft spot for Skeeter.’

Harry chokes on his drink.

‘Soft spot?’

‘Oh, please, don’t tell me –‘ Ginny raises her eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered look with Harry. ‘Sirius and Rita Skeeter?’

James chuckles.

‘No, he just likes her because of the animagus stuff. He says he can’t fault her for being one.’

‘Oh, much better,’ Ginny sighs. Then she bits her lip before looking back at Harry. ‘Can you imagine them together? Rita Skeeter as your godmother?’

‘I would have to quit Sirius from his job as godfather,’ Harry says, pretending to gag. ‘He would clearly be underqualified.’

There is another small giggle and that’s it for the night.

They are talking again at least, even if it is still not like it used to be. There are no whispered words during their time together during the day and they don’t seem to be secretly snogging. But they talk sometimes, and once or twice Lily hears a laugh when she passes the room they are in.

But it’s only two weeks later that something seems to happen.

Lily is in her room, finishing to set up the bed so she and James will finally be able to sleep there, when the voices catch her up on her window.

‘You are bleeding.’

‘It’s just a cut, Harry, no big deal.’

‘It was a splinter, there can still be something there.’

‘I told you, I took everything off. I will just press it, it will stop bleeding in a minute.’

‘I can help you, I – I know a lot of healing spells.’

There is a pause.

‘Me too, but I also know that the bleeding will stop. It’s not deep.’

‘How do you –‘

‘Same way you know, Harry.’ There is a note of tension in Ginny’s voice. ‘I had to learn.’

‘Ginny –‘

‘What? Do you think you were the only one who had a hard time?’

And she storms inside, giving him no time to answer.

Harry is subdued that night, even more reserved than natural, and when she passes his room late at night, she sees the light is on. For a second Lily wonders if she should call James, but then she sighs and knocks on his door.

‘Harry?’

In answer, the door opens quietly. Lily enters his room to see Harry fully clothed on his bed; he is holding something and, with a start, she realizes it’s the Marauder’s Map. That’s a weird thing for Harry to be consulting in the middle of the night.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and running her hand through his hair comfortingly. He shrugs. ‘Anything to do with that fight with Ginny?’

He raises his eyebrows.

‘Hearing behind doors, Mum?’

‘No need, you were talking under my window.’

‘Next fight I will make sure we are far,’ he says with a grimace.

‘There will be a next fight?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, and this prospect doesn’t seem to make him better. ‘If I asked you something, would you be honest with me?’

‘Wasn’t I always, Harry?’

He smiles for a second before his expression is grave and uncertain.

‘Do you think I am self-centred?’

Lily blinks.

‘No one would accuse you of being selfish, Harry, I mean –’

She doesn’t know where to begin, considering all the sacrifices she had seen Harry make over the years — he gave his life —, but Harry shakes his head.

‘Not selfish, I mean – the summer after my fourth year, when Voldemort was back, I said plenty of things –’

‘You were under a lot of stress, no one –’

‘I know, but I was complaining about how everything happened to me and now I am thinking that maybe, somehow, I never stopped to think that things happen to other people too.’

Lily squeezes his hand.

‘It is not a suffering competition, Harry.’

‘I don’t know if I see it that way. I mean, when I saw Neville for the first time, with all his bruises and looking so hurt, I still wished it could be me, staying at Hogwarts and fighting because it seemed easier and it never occurred to me that she could – they could – have had a difficult time too. It still seemed… just school.’

He pauses to pick up the Marauder’s Map, opening it even if there is no map showing there.

‘I used to take the Map last year to watch over her,’ he whispers, his face flushing. ‘And I saw her dot and I never thought that she could be in trouble. I knew they were rebelling, but… it didn’t feel like it was something real.’

‘Well, that’s why you should talk to each other. None of you will understand if you keep avoiding each other.’

‘She is mad at me.’

‘Of course she is. You are avoiding her.’

He doesn’t answer.

‘You need to talk, Harry. Go there. Try it.’

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I go visit my ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night?’

‘I’m pretty sure you will just talk if she doesn’t hex you first,’ Lily says brightly. Then she smiles softly. ‘You could wait until tomorrow, Harry, but I have the feeling you both have been waiting too long. And this isn’t any of your styles. You are both people of action.’

Harry grins now, standing up.

‘I will go then. Thanks for the tip, Mum.’

Lily accepts the soft kiss he gives her on the cheek.

‘Just be safe, Harry.’

_______

Harry seems to be in a better mood the next morning, despite the fact that he slept a few hours that night — Lily knows he returned by five, just as the sun was rising.

But she doesn’t say anything, just smiling to herself when Harry’s face lights up when the fireplace erupts into emerald flames and Ginny appears, dusting her clothes. They exchange a look that it’s still not there yet, but it’s soft and promising. James looks in her direction, surprised, and she promises to explain later.

It’s not Summer yet, but the days of May and then June get warmer and then Harry and Ginny are spending more time outside, though there isn’t much to fix there.

At least, not material things.

James keeps an eye on them — he wouldn’t resist not doing so —, telling her that most of the time they just seem to be taking long strolls and talking.

One day they return from their walk holding hands, and Lily has to lock James inside the room so he doesn’t say anything. Harry and Ginny are still not there.

The road home takes time.

On the second weekend of June they have the hottest day yet and they take some time off; James transfigures a pool in the backyard that neither Harry nor Ginny seems to enjoy other than to sit at the edge of the pool and take off their shoes to wet their feet. Instead of helping to ease any tension, the pool seems to create some weight over them, making them more silent than usual, so James suggests they go flying instead.

‘My Firebolt is gone,’ Harry remembers, wincing, and Lily knows it’s not the broomstick he is really missing right now. Harry lost a friend that day.

‘Mine was burnt by the Carrows last year,’ Ginny adds, her voice casual as if it’s nothing important.

They don’t end up doing anything after that.

In the afternoon, James gets a call from Sirius and Lily decides to just stay home, finishing the Wolfsbane Potions she will need to deliver to Remus by the end of the week. She is quietly lost in her favourite potion world when she hears the voices, and it’s just because they are whispering, rather than talking normally, that it draws her attention.

‘Are you sure?’ Ginny is asking, her voice unusually hesitant.

‘Only if you are,’ he whispers, sounding just as unstable.

Lily approaches the window and withdraws the curtains as little as she needs. Harry and Ginny are still by the pool, standing facing each other, and without looking away from Harry, she takes off her shirt, to reveal her bikini under it.

Harry gasps, but Lily knows that what is taking his breath away are the marks on Ginny’s torso — faint scars of cuts and small yellowed bruises that remained from the battle, over a month ago.

Ginny bits her lip, her arms trembling as if she wants to cover herself. Harry finally takes a step in her direction, looking her in the eyes now.

'Thank you for showing me,’ he whispers and then he sighs. 'My turn'.

His hands are shaking as he goes to unbutton his shirt, until Ginny raises her hands.

'May I?'

Harry nods slowly.

Ginny keeps her head high, not looking away from Harry's eyes, until she finishes opening all the buttons from his shirt and taking it off.

Then her eyes fall to his chest and Ginny freezes.

Lily knows what she is seeing, even though Lily can't see it from her angle: Harry's new lightning scar, across his chest, over his heart, where the Killing Curse hit him for the second time in his life.

'Harry,’ Ginny sighs, pain evident in her voice. She raises her hand, looking at him, questioning him silently. Harry nods once more.

Then Ginny takes a step closer to him, touching his chest, and Lily knows that she must be feeling his heart over it.

She lets the curtain fall and returns to her potion.

She is not surprised when they return home holding hands and she only tells James later (so he doesn't say anything during dinner because she knows her husband) that Ginny kissed Harry softly on the lips when she thought no one was seeing them.

#Hinny #Jily Lives AU #Hinny Fanfiction #Eyes glistening #T: Fanfiction

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iibonniee · 2 years

Text

Happy Birthday (Lee Minhyuk)

A/N: I’m so sorry for my lack in updates. I’ve been super busy with school and trying to start something and finishing it is killer. I’m still lowkey unsure of how this ended (I’m always thinking I can do better but oh well) but I’ll post it for now. Happy birthday Minhyuk!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Minhyuk's eyes were closed for merely a moment when he felt a warm body lay down next to his own. One eye popped open to see his girlfriend snuggled up against him as her e/c eyes were now focused on the tv that was playing whatever he had on at the time. Minhyuk felt his heart swell as his girlfriend's hand found rest on his chest, her head resting just above his soft beating heart.

Minhyuk knew all too well what this was. He had often found himself enjoying simple times like these a bit too much. Something as simple as his girlfriend looking throughout the apartment just to find him the moment she knew he had come over after a long day. From there on out she'd be attached to him until she had deemed it necessary to want to leave him be. Even though Minhyuk knew that would be hours, he simply didn't care.

Though if he had to be honest, he'd probably do the same with her.

Quickly his arms found themselves wrapping around his girlfriend's body. The warmth that radiated from her body almost drove him into an unknown bliss that part of him didn't want to uncover because he truly knew what it was. It was inviting, and finally being able to hold her close was everything to him.

The warm scent of vanilla was easy enough to overrule the warm cherry blossom smell that had taken over the living room from the small wax incense burner that burned. Minhyuk had come to love the smell of vanilla. Mainly it was because he had grown used to his lover wearing vanilla perfume, but he also knew it reminded him of home. That home being wherever she was at.

The soft pattern of a heart being repeatedly traced onto his chest had caught his attention once again. He lifted his head only slightly trying to gage a better view of his silent love. The only thing he can see was how content she had looked.

"Everything alright?" The question was answered with a small and light "mhm" that had him chuckle slightly. Of course, he should've known the answer though he had thought it was best to ask just in case. Minhyuk's arms found their way around his girlfriend's body to hold her close, a hum is heard from her once she realized. Minhyuk felt Y/N's fingers grip at the T-shirt he wore, a gummy grin falling victim on his face.

"I'm glad you're here." She uttered, eyes still focused on what the TV was playing. Minhyuk couldn't exactly tell what it was when he realized she wouldn't speak after her final sentence. The twinge of disappointment for something that, in truth, he shouldn't be remotely upset about. Or it was the fact that he knew she had more to say but bit her tongue.

"I'm glad to be here," Minhyuk smiled. It was true. While they both knew what was to come for the next few months, the present moment was what they wanted to cherish to most. So they decided to live in it and worry about the future when they lived in it. "No matter where I'm at, you're my home."

The sentence came out so smooth it almost caught Y/N off guard. She sat up now relaxing as she gazed down at him. Her eyes held nothing more but love and admiration for Minhyuk and Minhyuk only. Y/N admired what her boyfriend did. The countless hours in which he had to spend perfecting choreography, staying up late only to wake up early for interviews, shoots, and more. All for his fans. The millions of people that he loved. It was something she admired so much.

Minhyuk lifted up his hand, almost like he had wanted a high five, but Y/N knew better. His hands immediately found their way intertwined with his lovers. Y/N hummed out bringing his hand to her lips. Minhyuk couldn't help but watch each movement carefully. So many years of being together and such a small thing like this had his heart racing.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Minhyuk asked casually watching his girlfriend smile with an eye roll. It was always the stupid cliché where he'd ask such a question when they were being a bit too sappy for an outsider to enjoy. But they were in the comfort of her home. One he had learned to call his own after a while.

"Dunno," Her casual shrug after a moment of silence caused him to chuckle. "Did I wish you a happy birthday?" She finally asked head cocked to the side in wonder.

There it was. The small bubble of disappointment washed away within seconds upon hearing her silly question. It was something they always did. After forgetting if he had wished her a happy birthday the first year they were together, she had made it known that little slip up would never leave. Thus, their tiny tradition had started.

"The moment the clock hit 12 I think you did." He pretended to think, and after a short moment, he laughed. "Of course you did, jagiya! You know Kihyun wouldn't shut up about it? At least in his heart the Monbebe that he and Jooheon were the first two."

She couldn't help but snort a laugh. Head thrown back as more fit of giggles poured from her lips probably at the thought of Kihyun's silent curses of not being first.

Each second he heard of her laugher was a simple birthday gift. She didn't have to do anything really. While he enjoyed what his bandmates did for him, and the loving support from his fans, simply her laughing away was the best gift he could get.

After a minute her laughter died down, a smile being the only thing remaining on her face as she glanced down at him. He too held his own smile. A bright, gummy one.

"I made you a cake." She finally spoke now calm and able to form words. "I know you probably had so many and are probably sick of sweets. But I wanted to do something for you."

Each year without fail the mentions of his girlfriend taking time out of her day to make him a cake always sent him on a trip to the moon. It made him ecstatic. If his smile wasn't already so wide before, it was now.

"I'll always eat a piece of your homemade cake."

⊰ ☼ ⊱

Silence.

That was all the mattered. After the couple finished the cake the talk of a short walk to their favorite spot had risen, so with a quick pack up the two made their way there.

The weather was warm so no coats were needed. Cuddled up him was his girlfriend who's attention was fixated on the nighttime city view below. Minhyuk couldn't help but glance towards his girlfriend, a soft smile finding its way onto his face as he watched her carefully.

He had wondered how her day went after he left. Had she tuned in to his V-Live? Had she read all the posts about him everywhere?

"You ok?" The voice had caught him off guard, with a quick and adorably uneven blink he quickly smiled with a soft nod.

"Yes, absolutely," Minhyuk spoke casually immediately noticing the brow of confusion coming from her. Almost as if she hadn't caught him zoning out. "Of course."

She gave him a soft and heartfelt smile turning back to watch the view. From where the couple sat the view of the city was breathtaking. The sun had fully set allowing the moon and the stars to take the stage for their hours. Just below the city lights lit the way for unnamed people to walk. The view was almost too perfect. He'd have to make a note to try and paint it.

Minhyuk let out a content sigh, simply being happy he was able to hold his girlfriend once more. The comfort being one he'd never ever want to replace.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Once more he turned to look at his girlfriend, this time laughing upon noticing she did in fact have a penny for him.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I tend to get lost quite a bit, huh?" Though Y/N didn't question, instead her finger met his cheek. On instinct, he leaned into her touch.

"Can I talk to you about something?" He asked, eyes searching hers to see if he could continue.

"Everything ok?"

"Yes absolutely," The smile he gave her told her that what he wanted to talk about wasn't as bad as she might think. "I think of course if you'd want to as well take the next step in our relationship. I always say home is with you, and I'd want to make that come true. I want us to move in together, get married, have babies, and grow old together."

"But Minnie, what about Changkyun and Ki? They're fine with that? I mean are you ok with it?"

"I haven't really mentioned it yet but I know I'm ready. I was 100% ready to commit to you after our first year together. I want it to be us," Grabbing her hands he held them within his own. "It's a big step, besides marriage of course, but I want to do this with you. There's nobody else I'd want to do this with. I'm so smitten with you there are days where when I don't see you, I get upset. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep with you. Not just on days I'm able. EVERYDAY. This is my final birthday wish."

He watched as her smile grew as she took in his words bit by bit. Yes, it was a big step. But it was a step in the right direction. A push they needed.

"Let's do it."

It was his birthday after all.

Happy birthday Lee Minhyuk.

#minhyuk x reader #monsta x x reader #monsta x fluff #minhyuk imagines #monsta x imagines #monsta x #Minhyuk x you

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purecantarella · 3 years

Text

As Long As It’s You

Request : Can you do ,Alpha!lisa first time her mating o!reader .

Yall love the A/B/O universe don’t you HAHAHAAH Again, I’m not the best but I still hope you all enjoy 😊Also, this is a wlw or gxg story so yeah. If you don’t identify as female, you may feel uncomfortable with this.

Disclaimer: This oneshot will have elements of sex, those under 18 are strongly advised to leave and read more fluffy content.

Lisa had planned this night meticulously. Everything had to go smoothly or she’d lose her mind. From the moment she’d picked you up to the end of the night. It was all charted out in her head. A fancy candle-lit dinner, flowers, a stroll through the park and she’s lovingly ravish you for the first time.

In her head, it was a perfect plan. However, when you walked out in a sinfully red dress with a slit trailing to your upper thigh hugging every asset she’d admired the first time she’d met you, she knew she wasn’t going to hold out for too long.

“Hi baby!” You greeted kissing her lips quickly, making her smile, butterflies exploding in her stomach, and return the greeting. Lisa opened the car door for you to enter the back seat quickly and safely before shutting the door and praying the growing erection in her pants would calm down before the dinner.

Spoiler, it didn’t. While the car ride was wholesome, Lisa’s eyes couldn’t stop trailing over the shape of your breast, the way you bit your lip trying to explain how your day was, and your scent. Oh mighty God, your scent. It was both the flowery smell of your perfume and your natural sweet aroma that were driving her absolutely insane.

You on the other hand, knew how much Lisa wanted you from the moment she picked you up. The hungry gaze and her wandering eyes...you wanted it just as much and were damn near ready to do anything to let your alpha mark you, make you hers once and for all.

Once at the restaurant you both had a lovely time cracking jokes and just enjoying each others company. That didn’t stop your pursuit though. You and Lisa were seated in the booth nearing the back for her to not be recognised by any fans that may pass by. This convenient placement gave you the freedom to do pretty much anything.

You placed your hand on her leg, rubbing the pant-clad skin before leaning close to her ear. “You look so good tonight, baby...” You lowered your head and kissed her neck, making her tense up. You smirked inwardly at her reaction.

“Y/n...” She warned softly. You didn’t halt any of your actions though. If anything, you applied a little more pressure to her leg, trailing it up closer and closer to her knot. “If you don’t stop, I will lose control, omega.” Lisa warned one last time, her eyes slowly darkening looking down at you.

“Do it, baby. Make me yours.” You moved your hand to rub the alpha’s knot making her groan softly. You giggled darkly as she hastily raised her hand asking for the bill.

You both entered the car and Lisa did everything in her power not to take you there and then with how profound your scent had become and with your light teasing during dinner. To distract herself she leaned down and whispered profanities in your ear.

“You look so fucking hot in that dress, princess.” She muttered as you repressed a moan at the scent she was releasing. “Looking so perfect for your alpha aren’t you? Shit, the things I want to do to you, Y/n.” The dancer placed a lingering kiss on your cheek making you shudder at the contact. The driver, already suffocating with the mixing scents of want and sex made, stepped on the gas.

The moment you and Lisa walked into your apartment, you were pinned up onto the wall with her lips on yours. A mix of fiery passion and pure love as your tongues found themselves tangled with one another. Your hands found their way into her hair, desperately grasping onto each strand not wanting to be parted from her lips. The idol then took your lower lip between her lips as she pulled away making you groan loudly.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby?” She growled in your ear, her hands already fiddling with the zipper on your back. You nodded profusely before pulling her lips back onto your own. Lisa pushed a knee into your heat, moaning when she felt the wetness that was already leaking past your underwear.

Feeling unbothered by the tight dress, she fell to her knees and pushed the soft fabric up. The brunette smirked seeing the damp patch. She placed open mouthed kisses on your soft thighs, making sure to leave red marks in her wake.

You pushed her bangs back and begged, “Lisa, please...”

Not wanting to make you wait any longer, the alpha pulled the underwear down and pressed her tongue flat onto your clit, moving in a figure-8 motion, making you release a throaty cry. You banged your head on the door behind you as she lapped up the juices that had begun to overwhelm her. Her bottoms becoming too tight for her throbbing knot.

She stood back up slapping your thighs, making a clap ring out through the empty apartment. “Jump baby.”

You followed her orders, nestling your head into the side of her head, pressing your own kisses on the idol’s now hot and sensitive skin. You ground down on the now fully hard member of your alpha, unable to control yourself any more. Both your usually clear minds clouded with lustful thoughts.

Once she’d navigated the way to the bedroom, which she thought was a maze, she pushed you onto the bed as gently as she could in her state. As Lisa crawled over you, your hands immediately moved to her shirt. Each button undone you pressed a kiss to the exposed tan skin. Feeling completely carnal at this point, she pushed the dress off your shoulders and tossed it over her shoulder and unclipped your bra. Lisa moved to look at you completely...her perfect omega, presented to her so deliciously. Just for her.

Lisa briefly stood up to undress, your eyes never leaving her body for a second. Another rush of wetness flowed from your heat when her knot was finally exposed to you. It was absolutely mouth-watering. As you stood up to try and get your mouth around the dancer’s length, she jumped pushing you down.

“We can do that another time, baby.” She said her eyes not leaving yours. “For now, alpha needs to feel herself inside your pussy.” Lisa muttered as she pressed her lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around her neck pulling her impossibly closer, moaning loudly into her mouth.

Finally, she leaned up and aligned herself with your heat. Her brown, almost black, eyes looked up at you one more time for any sign of hesitation. When you nodded, she pushed her length into you. You cried out at the sheer size of her knot. The dancer looked up at you sympathetically, holding her movements until you’d felt complete ease.

Once you’d opened your eyes again, her hips began to move, making her member move in and out of your soaping cavern. You moaned again at the feeling of her rock hard knot pushing in and out.

“Alpha—Fuck!” You drawled out as you placed a hand on the back of her head. “You feel so good inside me! Harder, please. Harder!” You cried out again, wrapping your legs around Lisa’s small waist.

Hearing your begging, her thrusts came in a brutal pace and rougher than it initially was. The bed was then creaking under you both. Soon, your neck caught her attention again. She ran her canines over a spot on your neck. Again, Lisa looked up for permission to officially make you her mate.

“Do it,” You whimpered before biting your lip, trying to contain the sin that continuously flowed from your lips. Finally, Lisa sunk her teeth into your neck, leaving traces of blood, marking her as yours. You cried out at the pain and pleasure the bite left you with. The build up knot in your stomach uncoiling, making you release onto your now-mate’s member.

Lisa licked your neck, making sure you were okay before roughly pounding into you once again. One of your hands ran through her hair, tugging it a little, in hopes to bring her closer to the edge, the other clung onto the headboard of your bed, seeking some form of stability.

“Fuck, I’m so close...” Lisa moaned out. You smiled tiredly and pulled her lips back onto yours. “Come with me...” You moaned against her lips. With a few more thrusts, Lisa and you released a resonating cry throughout the, now extremely hot, room.

Both of you panted, tired from your little rendezvous. Lisa pecked your forehead, trying not to move to much as you were both still connected. You smiled up at her and giggled.

“You were amazing, baby...” You muttered into her ear as you fiddled with a lock of her dark hair. Lisa blushed at the comment and nuzzled into your neck, smiling at the mark she’d just left.

“You were too...” She responded, a little sleepy. “Just so you know though, I had a whole romantic version of this planned out.” Lisa said, adjusting herself on top of you to look into your eyes. You smiled at her sincerity.

“Any first time would be perfect as long as it’s you.” You said softly, caressing her face. “Please...this wasn’t your first time.” She said grumpily, teasing you a little.

You chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, but it’s the only one that mattered. Because I am now officially mated.” You said proudly, touching the sore mark on your neck. You both smiled sleepily at one another before Lisa adjusted you both so you were comfortably on top of her.

“I love you, Lisa...” You said before lulling to sleep.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Yup, that’s a thing HAHAHAHA I hope you enjoyed this. I’m sorry if it isn’t that good but I did work hard on it and I sincerely hope you liked it and it lived up to the first one I did. Remember that requests are open and I’m really happy to hear from you readers so feel free to message me about anything 😊💖

I’m currently working on some initial ideas and making my way through requests. A Wheein imagine and a Twice reaction are heading your way so look forward to that 😚💕

Taglist:

@labrachrosite

#blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink imagines #blackpink reactions #blackpink smut #lisa x reader #lisa imagine #lisa smut #lisa manoban #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o blackpink #a/b/o smut #a/b/o kpop #please dont kill me #i need holy water #gxg #girl group imagines #girl group smut

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.6 END

There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.

All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.

Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.

Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.

"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.

"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.

The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.

Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"

"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.

"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.

As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.

The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.

"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.

Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling well? You look pale."

"Yeah yeah-"

"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."

"I did not!" Nicole protested.

"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."

She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.

"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.

That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.

It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.

"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.

Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.

"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.

The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.

"My ladies."

Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.

The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."

Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.

On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.

"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.

Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.

---

Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.

It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.

She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.

The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.

By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.

The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.

"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.

"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.

She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.

"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.

"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.

Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.

It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.

A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.

Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."

Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.

Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.

Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.

Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.

Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.

"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.

With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.

"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.

Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."

She had but not like this. Not like this.

"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.

Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.

Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."

"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.

The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.

Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.

"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.

Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.

With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.

"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.

He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.

The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.

Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.

She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.

---

The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.

She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"

"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.

Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.

She felt downright dreadful.

Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.

A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.

She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.

"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."

Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."

At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.

Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.

"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.

"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.

The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.

"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"

Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.

"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.

---

Date: 20th May 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)

Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts

Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.

The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.

---

Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.

"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.

And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.

She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.

A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.

If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.

---

Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu

Cadou Affinity: Favorable

Brain Functions: Normal

Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #karl heisenberg #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #tw torture #like big fat tw for this one

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http-lovelyknow · 3 years

Text

Infuriating -Johnny Suh Pt2

Hello! The long awaited Infuriating pt2 is here!!

Thank you to everyone for requesting a part 2 and I’m sorry it took me so long😅

Part 1 Here

And I want to give a special thank you to @flowerboykun for proofreading this and making this incredible banner for me I appreciate you so much!

And big thank you to @se-onghwa for proofreading and all the words of support!

This is part 2 to the Infuriating I posted on my old blog @we-are-luxury-and-treasure hope you like it!

TW NSFW - Dom(softish) Johnny, Sub(reader) but those are the only TW I think? Sorry if I missed anything

Word count - 3,195

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To say that Johnny was stalking you would be an overstatement, it was more like haunting.

Ever since you snapped at him a couple of weeks ago you feel like he’s just been. . . watching you. He’s always just somewhere around the corner and you start to feel like prey. His dark amber eyes seem to follow you everywhere and record your every move.

You often recall his threat of “Next time you’ll be punished, so please behave.” At the worst times it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

Today is no different, except instead of shivering alone in the safety of your house away from Johnny, you're thinking of his threat right in front of him like the idiot you are.

Currently trying not to sweat, you're applying makeup to his face for an interview they have, and while the boys behave better, Johnny is still acting up and pushing your buttons just not in the same way. Now he does things like, winking at you, putting his hand on your back to move past even if he didn't need to, leaning too close to whisper something to you, etc, etc but today he’s actually been well mannered.

You lightly hum to yourself as you carefully place eyeshadow onto Johnny's eyelids, his calm breathing is slightly suspicious, he never sits still, but you’ll take what you can get.

The lively sounds of the boys roughhousing behind you fill the room while you stand between Johnny's knees to get every detail right. You shift your weight to one side, you lean over, and grab a clean brush on the table behind his shoulder.

Mark then decided this would be a perfect time to stumble back, knocking you into Johnny which wouldn’t have been so bad had Johnny not immediately gripped the back of your thighs much tighter than was necessary, effectively holding you against him.

A small yip escapes you when you make contact and you quickly try to scan his face to see if there was a mistake in his makeup due to you being pushed, when you find none you look up and notice Johnny staring at you.

His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips a couple of times before he takes in a shaky breath and you realize you're still on top of him.

You feel the burn of embarrassment through your spine to the pit of your stomach and try to move away.

He flexes his fingers for a second demanding you meet his gaze one more time.

And you swear to god the spark his amber eyes ignite is enough to set your every nerve on fire.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds, Mark is already pulling you up and off of Johnny and starts spilling apologies through his laughter.

You brush him off as well as yourself with a soft “no harm done” and everyone went about their business, but Johnny suddenly seemed. . . off

So here you are, waiting behind the camera of the well-lit studio trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Johnny, he keeps avoiding eye contact and shifting around in his seat.

The lights have caused a slight sheen of sweat to appear on your skin, and just as you go to wipe your brow you finally notice what made Johnny so uncomfortable.

The poor man has a boner.

And there's nothing he can do about it.

The situation is almost laughable until you happen to catch his eye and he sees you smirking.

You’ve never seen such a livid fire in someone’s eyes.

I’m absolutely and royally fucked.

The interview ended much too quickly in your opinion, you’re all ushered into the ‘backstage’ area.

As you’re gently wiping the makeup off Yuta’s face a very impatient Johnny hovers close by you.

Everyone packs up and leaves, you remain in the semi-lit room gathering all the little tools and brushes.

Hearing footsteps approach, your heart drops, you know exactly who it is, and how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you happen to remember what was said the last time we spoke?” He’s behind you, “Cause I remember a very clear warning was given to you.” Too afraid to turn around, you remain with feet frozen and gently lift your head to catch his reflection in the mirror. Big mistake.

It never ceases to amaze you just how intimidating the usually sweet but large man is, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

Like he’s a hunter who has fatally cornered his prey, you.

A hot chill shoots through your body as you watch him approach your backside, trying to steady yourself as you grip the makeup table in front of you when he's finally close enough to touch you.

“You think you’re so slick don’t you?” Oh shit, he knows

He smirks as he continues with a taunting cadence in his voice “Think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting? Always standing closer to me than you do the others when you do our make up, always leaning further into me,” He presses himself against you pushing you roughly into the table with his own causing a sharp pain in your hip bones as he leans in closer dropping his tone “Wearing clothes that show just a little more skin, wearing a hint more perfume than normal. . . you really think you’d get away with that shit going unnoticed?”

And that’s just the thing, you wanted him to catch you.

His hands have begun to wander up to your hips and sides, tracing your shoulders, left hand going back to your waist as the other wraps itself into your hair tugging your head to the side, you make eye contact in the mirror and holy shit does he look delicious. He’s in a white shirt and jeans leftover from the interview, bare face and hair tousled.

And he’s looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

You’re all but gasping for breath at this point, he’s literally knocked the wind from your lungs.

And that’s when a scary thought strikes you. . . he’s hardly even touched you yet.

“Now tell me, pretty baby, did I not give you a very clear warning about what would happen if you didn't behave?”

Unable to nod with his hand holding your hair you whimper out a weak yes.

“And what did you do today that caused you this situation?”

He punctuates the last word with a knee coming in between your legs from behind, the action makes all the words you’ve ever learned flee from your brain.

“You should know better than to ignore me. . . but I’ll make it real clear for you just this once” He lets go of your hair and begins to roam with his fingertips, surprisingly gentle

“You left me painfully hard right before the interview.”

Fingers gripping your wrists he brings your hand back to start feeling his toned waist through the soft material of his shirt

“You just had to walk in looking like that today...had to let Mark push you right into me. . . just had to leave me hanging like nothing happened”

His teasing tone is too much, you have to keep stopping yourself from making any noise to not embarrass yourself.

He must notice your attempts at the silence and all it does is piss him off.

“Oh absolutely not baby, let me hear you.”

His hands release yours and one goes to your thigh while the other slips under your shirt caressing your stomach a little more firm than his touch was before, cold rings on his fingers cause a chill to run through you leaving goosebumps behind

He’s being assertive and maybe a little aggressive but you know if you told him to stop he would. He knows you want this as bad as he does, if not even a little more. You had been teasing him after all, you wanted to push all his buttons until he snapped.

“I’m a man of my word baby. It’s time for you to be put in your place and learn who’s boss.”

You begin to push back against his hips with your own, feeling the bulge starting in his pants is driving you wild, you want so bad to run your mouth and get smart with him, but his hands on your bare skin feel so damn good you can’t bring yourself to say anything, not trusting your voice to not come out as a whine.

“What did I say about letting me hear you, baby?”

He grips the thigh he’s holding tightly and finally starts to slip his hand under your bra giving you some relief from your ever-growing frustrations.

He begins to toy with your nipple and knead your breast while his other hand travels closer to where you need him most.

The action causes you to finally let out a soft but deep moan, you reach back and grip his hair while your eyes close, head falling back onto his toned chest

“Oh god. . . that’s it baby, loosen up a bit” He encourages your sounds with a harder grip on your breast and contact with the point between your legs.

He begins to rub you through your pants, the sounds spilling from your lips become more frequent

“Finally behaving and giving me what I want. . . Now be a good girl and tell me what it is you want from me huh?”

It takes all your willpower to reign yourself back in and attempt to speak despite him torturing you through your clothes like this.

You open your eyes and take in the sight of the two of you in the mirror. His hair is still being gripped by you, his eyes are on fire and he looks like it’s taking everything in him to hold back in case you change your mind.

But you finally have Johnny Suh with his hand up your shirt and down your pants offering you the night of your life, no way in hell you’re gonna tell him no.

You look back up into his eyes in the mirror while gripping his hair and wrist tighter

You challenge him with the most sultry tone you can muster “Johnny, I want you to ruin me, and show me who’s really in charge”

You can see in his eyes the exact moment he snaps while you speak, pupils blowing out and grip almost bruising he spins you around to face him.

He grips your jaw the way he did after you yelled at him, except instead of scolding you like he did then, he’s pressing his lips onto yours.

Moaning into his mouth you strain onto your tippy toes to match his ridiculous height, without much luck but neither of you was focusing on that at the moment.

He lifts you by the back of your thighs onto the makeup table, bringing a hand up to your chin again he tugs your jaw open to slip his tongue inside to run against your own.

And you’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, you vocalize this to him with another rather loud moan.

He leans back and you whine at the loss of contact as his long fingers find the bottom of your shirt.

“God baby you keep making noises like that and I can’t promise to control myself. . .”

He goes back in for another kiss as his hands make their way up your shirt again much to your relief.

“Then don’t. . .” The words are mumbled into Johnny’s mouth but he hears them nonetheless.

He lets out a rather dark chuckle at your attitude.

“Oh baby, you have some manners to learn” With that, he cocks his hand back and lands a loud but rather pain-free smack to the part of your thigh exposed by your high waisted shorts causing the muscles to clench on contact at the warning and a noise you didn’t know you could make left your mouth much to his delight.

He smooths over the afflicted skin with his large palms while whispering sweet sweet praises into your ear. Johnny gently lifts your shirt over your head, he begins trailing hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone and goddamn does it make you wet.

You can feel yourself get hotter the farther down his mouth travels and you feel like if he doesn’t quit teasing you with his lips and fingertips you're gonna explode

And this is when the whining starts “Johnny. . . please do something I’m gonna die” you curl your fingers back into his hair when he laughs at how desperate you sound.

“I love the way you sound when you whine my name baby.”

“I mean it, Johnny, I'm gonna die please do something, please” your begging seems to have done the trick cause now Johnny is on his knees in front of you still looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

“Lift your hips”

That definitely wasn’t a request and you are more than willing to comply. He slips your shorts down your legs (you barely register not knowing when he unbuttoned them) along with your now-soaked underwear, your thick scent sticking in the air.

He groans at the smell of your arousal and the sight of your soaked heat “Oh fuck baby look at you. . .” using both hands he spreads your legs farther causing your lips to part “Can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner”

And with that, he dives right into biting at your soft thighs causing the sweetest sound he’d ever heard to fall from your pretty lips and he knows he’s already addicted.

“Are you ready sweet baby?” You nod.

He slaps your thigh again but harder this time leaving a full outline of his long slender hand “Use your words, baby, be a good girl and answer me properly yeah?”

“Yes Johnny, yes I’m ready, please, please I’m ready” Not your most eloquent of sentences but it satisfies him to hear your smart mouth not be so smart anymore.

“Good girl. . .” That causes a shiver to run down your whole body “Aw does my baby like being told how good she is?”

You start to nod but remember that he wants words

“Yes dear god I love it. . .” you're honestly on the verge of tears by now, he’s been so close yet so far this whole time “Good girls get rewards, so behave.” He finally leans forward and delivers a soft lick to your sensitive clit and you don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loud in your whole life, you’ve been driven shameless by him and his mouth.

His hands hold your legs open as he works over you with his mouth, tongue applying just the right amount of friction and pressure to start pushing you to climax.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer and it does nothing but boost his ego and drive him crazy, he’s so hard and trapped by his pants but he couldn’t care less when he finally has you on his tongue after months of secret pining and he isn’t gonna throw this chance away.

He wants to make sure you keep coming back again, and again, and maybe even agree to be his.. But you’ll have that talk later, right now your fingernails are grazing his scalp making him groan into you, sending vibrations up your core.

Waves of white-hot electricity crash over your body, thighs trembling and tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Johnny is by far the most talented man you’ve had between your legs and you're already almost about to cum, it’s so fast you’re almost embarrassed but you know that he’s doing it on purpose, proving a point to you about how you’ll now be ruined for anyone else. No one will be as good as him and you both know it.

You’re begging him to keep going but he takes it one step further by easing a slender finger into your beyond slick heat.

“Ahhh fuck. . .” He looks up at you and the sight mixed with his tongue and fingers almost does you in right there.

“Fuck Johnny, I’m so so close please, more please”

It’s official, he’s reduced you to nothing more than a begging, sobbing, mess.

He smirks into you while adding a third finger with the others,

“Johnnyyy”

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow

“Can I please, please cum? I can’t hold it anymore please”

You weren’t sure why you were asking, it just seemed like something you should do.

And you were right.

“Since you asked so nicely” He picked up the pace in all the right ways that had you falling apart right there on top of the makeup table.

You tried to stay as quiet as possible but he made that very challenging, his fingers and tongue worked you through your high in the most perfect way possible, firm but not too much to make you overly sensitive, but he knew exactly what to do to make it last as long as possible.

You're a panting sweaty mess when he stands up

“Open” remembering what he said about good girls getting rewards you immediately obey, wanting to make him pleased with you.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and you make a point to look directly into his eyes while you clean them with your mouth, leaving little to the imagination about what you'd be doing if it wasn't his fingers..

“Fuck baby..” He groans at the sight and feeling of you “Let's get out of here yeah?” He takes a half step back and wipes his hand on his jeans,

He picks up your shirt and hands it to you. You nod and slip the light fabric over your head.

Johnny gently lifts your chin to look at him and you aren't fully prepared for the softness in his eyes “You did so good baby, such a fast learner” Warmth spreads through you at this praise and you can't help but smile.

You gently slip off the table onto shaky legs and go to fix your shorts when Johnny does it for you, you mumble a soft thank you, still unsure of your voice and the state it's in.

Then he surprises you again by pulling you into a hug, it's comforting but firm. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and holds your head to his chest and strokes your hair with the other. You’re quick to hold him back, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the improvised aftercare.

“Wanna head back to my place?” You feel his chest softly rumble as he lets out a sweet laugh knowing the other option is the dorm “I’d love to”

He helps you pack up your things while making pleasant small talk, knowing a more serious conversation and more fun would be had once you get home.

You could both tell this was gonna be the start of something you both would quite enjoy.

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Thank you for reading!

Taglist - @flowerboykun @se-onghwa

#nct 127 johnny #johnny x reader #johnny suh #nct smut #nct johnny smut #johnny imagine #http-lovelyknow

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

⭐️SIRIUS⭐️

Prompt: Requested, by the beautiful @romanreignsgirl20 Thanks for your request, sweetheart. I made some slight plot adjustments (I hope you don’t mind❤️) and I hope you’ll like it how it turned out😉.

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Curvy/Thick Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, praise kink, body worship, bondage (shibari), oral sex (female receiving), food play, dom x sub dynamic, rough sex, delicate subjects regarding self image.

Editor: @rheacanbreakme

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: This request has a special place in my heart now, people 🥺 Ok, so, why the title Sirius? You may ask, and I’ll tell you why: Sirius is the brightest star in Earth's night sky. The name means "glowing" in Greek — a fitting description, as only a few planets, the full moon and the International Space Station outshine this star. Later in the fic, you’ll realize why this little piece of information is valid for you 😉. Y’all know the drill, loves: You can check out my previous stories on my Masterlist if you’d like (it would make me your girl here very happy 🤗). Now, let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy...

Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at my newest acquisition: a light blue, mermaid style dress. Subconsciously, I couldn’t help but notice how it clung to every part of my body that I hated, and I instantly regretted purchasing it in the first place. I felt completely insecure about everything.

I heard the front door open, and Roman calling for me. Almost on instinct, I took the dress off with the intention of hiding it, but Roman was faster than I anticipated in making his way to our room, opening the door and catching me off guard, giving me no option but to try and hide the dress behind my back.

“Hey baby, what- Are you ok?” Roman asked, when he saw the frightened look on my face

“Sure” I lied

“What are you hiding back there?” He asked, curiously

“Nothing...” I trailed off

“Let me see it” He teased

“It’s nothing, really” I tried to dismiss him

Roman smirked and quickly ran towards me, yanking the piece of fabric out of my hands. He lifted the dress up in the air, almost as if to examine it closer

“Wow, this is really pretty” He complimented

“Ummm...thanks”

“Put it on for me” He said, smiling

“I-It didn’t fit” I lied once more

Roman raised an eyebrow in suspicion, asking

“Marissa, I could smell your perfume on the fabric, so I know you’ve tried on! What’s going on, babe? Why are you lying?”

“I...I don’t think it looks good on me” I murmured

“Can I know why?” He asked

“Because” I sighed “It shows everything I want to hide”

“Can you try it on for me, so I can give you my opinion?” Roman asked, softly

“Yeah, I guess so” I replied, taking the dress out of his hands, I made my way to the closet, so I could put it on without him watching.

Once I got the dress on, I went back to the bedroom, and Roman’s eyes instantly swam all over my body.

“Baby, fuck!” He gasped

“I know... I told you it looks weird-“

“Weird? Oh no no no, sugarplum, you look stunning!” Roman said in awe

“No, it’s we-“

“Mari, baby girl” Roman walked towards me, and placed one hand on my cheek “You look fucking gorgeous, baby! Why do you think it doesn’t look good on you?”

Trying my best to hide my insecurities, I shook my head and try to change the subject

“So, how was lunch with Jey?”

“Oh no, baby. We’re not going down that path, not until you tell me the truth” Roman softly pulled me towards the full length mirror, placed us in front of it, and asked

“Mari, what do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“Myself, in a dress that doesn’t look good at all” I tried to joke, but Roman didn’t seem to like it

“I disagree with you. I see the complete opposite! I see a beautiful woman, who has no idea of how stunning she is and how gorgeous her body-“

“Is not and how this stupid dress puts on display everything I want to hide” I mumbled

“Mari, look at me” He lifted my chin up with two of his fingers, and locked our gaze together in the mirror

“Baby, you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen! The dress looks ravishing on you, it compliments your body beautifully. The fact that you have so many curves is a plus to me! It always has been. Yes, I love you, but why do you think I invited you out for dinner in the first place?”

“Because you had nothing better to do?” I cackled, but Roman continued in a serious tone

“No. It was because I was attracted to you. Physically attracted, sexually attracted! If I’m being honest with you, I pictured us fucking from the first moment I laid eyes on you!” He said, and I looked at him in disbelief

“Oh, you don’t believe me?” He asked

“Ask Jey then! Or Jimmy, even Seth. They all caught me jerking off and moaning your name”

My eyes went wide, and my face went crimson red at the comments he made.

“What?” He chuckled “I’m only being honest!” Roman’s arms circled around my waist, as he asked

“You still don’t believe, do you?”

I sighed heavily “I’m sorry Ro, but I can’t-“

“Well, then you give me no option but show to you”

Roman slowly pulled the zipper down on the back of the dress, and let it slide down my body, becoming nothing but a pool of fabric around my ankles. Offering me his hand, he led us to our playroom in the basement. When we got there, he positioned me in the center of the room, and pressed a button on the wall that would make the hooks on the ceiling lower down. Roman went to hooks on the wall that held our collection of bondage ropes, and took the lavender jute rope in his hand.

He began to create an intricate pattern upon my skin with the lavender rope, twisting, turning and knotting the rope into a beautiful design. Roman passed the rope on the top and bottom of my breasts, followed by my upper arms, where he securely tied them together on my back and looped the rope around the ceiling hooks. He pressed the button on the wall once more, making the hooks rise, lifting me off of the floor. He lifted my legs up and bent them back, then passed the rope several times around each thigh and tied my ankles next to my thighs, leaving me spread open for him.

He stepped back to admire his work.

“Damn baby, you look so tempting” Roman bit his lips, came closer to me, and gave me an intense kiss “I’ll be right back” He whispered

A few minutes later, Roman returned with a heart shaped lollipop and the chocolate syrup we kept in the fridge. Positioning the large mirror with wheels in front of me, he said

“Today is going to be a special day for you, cupcake” Roman said, while standing behind me, looking at me through the mirror “You’re going to finally see yourself through my eyes. You’ll see everything that I see when I’m pleasuring you. You’ll see how beautiful you are, how perfect your body is, how much you turn me on” He leaned closer to my ear “And most importantly, you’ll see that there’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about! You should feel only pride to have such a beautiful face, body and soul” He kissed my hair “My perfect girl”

Roman leaned back, and grabbed the lollipop.

Taking off the wrapper, he placed the candy in front of my lips and said “Suck it”

I did as he said and began to suck on the lollipop, and while I did, our gaze locked in the mirror and I could see his eyes slowly turning darker and darker.

“That’s enough” Roman said, stopping me. And then, without breaking our gaze, he started to roam the candy all around my body: on my breasts and nipples, my soft belly, my hips, my thighs and finally my mound, where he began to circle my clit with the lollipop.

“Ever since we met, I always thought about how sweet you are. The way you’re so kind and loving to everybody, how you always have a word or touch to bring comfort to those who need it and how lucky I am to have the sweetest woman in the world” Roman turned around, until he was in front of me “And as time went by, I noticed how physically sweet you are too. Your skin tastes like apricots, your kisses are as inebriating as the finest liqueur and your juices” Roman knelt down in front of me “Taste as sweet as the purest honey” He leaned forward until he was mere inches away from my core “I want you to keep your eyes on the mirror, Mari. Don’t close your eyes, don’t turn your head to the other side, don’t look down! I want you to see yourself, how stunning you are and how beautiful you get when you cum. Do you understand me?” Roman asked, placing both hands on my hips

“Yes, sir” I answered, looking down at him

“Good, baby” He smiled “Now, look at the mirror” Roman whispered and began to work his magic on me. It was excruciatingly hard for me to stare at myself, but the more Roman licked and hummed in pleasure the more I could see how my facial expression changed. I became more wild, more raw, more passionate, more like a vixen. The woman I always wished to be was now in front of me, she had always been there, I just was never able to see her. But Roman showed me her, the woman I wanted to be, the woman he always knew I was.

“Do you see her, baby?” He asked softly, inserting two finger in me

“Yes, sir” I whispered, trying to hold back my tears

“This is who you are, this is what I see whenever I look at you! I don’t care what other people say or think, the only thing that matters to me is what I see and especially what you can see” Moving his fingers in and out, Roman began to kiss my soft belly and stretch marks “I want you to see how beautiful you are, how much I love your body. All of it!” He curled his fingers inside of me, making me moan loudly. And when his lips closed around my clit, I came all over him and Roman more than eargerly licked me clean. “I love every curve, every love handle, every inch of your beautiful body” He said, making his way up, licking every sticky trace left by the lollipop. Roman kissed my breasts, played with my nipples with his tongue, left love marks on my neck and then he finally reached my lips and kissed me like it was the last time we would be together.

Leaning back, he took the chocolate syrup in his hand and said “Don’t look down yet”.

He began to write something on my belly and chest, but I had no idea what it was until he stepped aside, revealing the mirror once more so I could read what he wrote.

“Read it out loud for me, Mari” Roman said

“Beautiful and perfect. Sir” I shyly read

“Louder” He requested

“Beautiful and perfect. Sir”

“Again, louder” He asked and so I did

“What are you, baby?” Roman questioned

“Beautiful and perfect, sir”

“And what should you never forget that you are?” He asked

“Beautiful and perfect, sir” I responded with my voice strangled by tears

Roman knelt down again, and started to lick the chocolate syrup off. His tongue traced every letter, as to remind me of it. He didn’t licked everything off though, he left some remnants, so I could continue to see it and read it in the mirror.

“That’s my girl” Roman smiled softly, with his eyes full of love, and I couldn’t help but let the tears roll down my cheeks “It’s alright, sugarplum” He cood, kissing me sweetly. Once I stopped crying he turned around, so he could stand behind me again.

He grabbed the chocolate syrup once more, and wrote something on my ass cheeks, I payed attention to each letter. When he was done, he asked

“Mari, can you guess what I have written?” With a wicked grin on his face

“I think so, sir”

“What is it, baby?”

“Is it ‘mine’, sir?”

Roman chuckled and knelt down, tracing the letters as he did previously, but only this time he bit my ass cheek forcefully before standing up

“That’s right, cupcake. ‘Mine’ “

I looked in the mirror and saw he had pushed his jeans down, to his upper thighs. Right afterwards, I felt his tip against my entrance

“Remember to keep your eyes on the mirror, sugarplum” He winked, sliding in, slowly. The position that my body was in allowed me to feel him deeper, stretching my walls in a bitter sweet pain.

“Oh my-” I moaned

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So fucking good” He groaned, thrusting in me vigorously

We moaned in sync, looking at each other in the mirror, drowning in our grunts and gasps of pleasure.

My walls began to tighten around his length “You’re gonna cum, baby?” Roman bit my ear

“Yes, sir” I gasped, already feeling my orgasm rising

“Then cum, baby. Cum around my cock” Roman said, as he pounded even harder

I squealed, squeezing his length and triggering his own orgasm. Roman slid out of me, and admired his seed dripping out of my core.

“I love you” He said, looking in the mirror

“My beautiful Sirius” Roman smiled widely...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe one shot #wwe imagine

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

i have an angst request, i guess??

could you imagine the reaction when MC and a brother are cuddling, being real sweet and tender, rubbing sensitive bits of skin ect.

MC stares off for a bit and the brother thinks they’re being nostalgic but when they ask what they’re thinking about 😘 MC just says “oh? i’m just remembering that i’m a potential food source for you guys 🙃“

~My first request! Yay!~

I hope you like it. I just picked just 3 brothers that I thought would be fun. But if you want more lemme know!

Lucifer

Quality time with him is rare. He's a busy demon after all.

But after an unsightly incident a few years back he has been trying to take some time out of the day for himself. It is also the perfect excuse to have some quality time alone with you.

He likes to have you sitting on top of him while he lounges. Your weight and heartbeat were soothing. A living noisemaker.

It has become a routine now. You come and rest with him and enjoy each other's company.

This time you were a little distant. Your eyes constantly track the motions and actions of his mouth. You seem fixated on every little thing he does. From a sip of his drink to the way he scowls while reading the evening news. You’re mesmerized by something.

He takes it as you reliving the taste and feel of his lips on yours. He'd be happy to give you a reenactment. But, when he leans in for a kiss, he senses...fear?

No. Surely you had gotten over that little mortal hurdle. For all things unholy, he hasn't even threatened you in over a year.

He'll pry, demanding a reason for your sudden apprehension. If anything to mask his own fear with righteous indignation.

When you tell him it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculous notion. He had indulged once or twice in his younger years-not that he would tell you. The thought had crossed his mind not that he would tell you. But really you would have been dog food before he would put any effort into it.

He'll brush your concern off. He has no interest in your flesh in such a rudimentary form. Now that pretty little soul of yours was another matter...

“You seem- distracted.” Lucifer’s purrs against your temple kissing it tenderly. His deep rumble resonates down your spine. “What are you thinking about γλυκιά μου?” He drags a razor-sharp canine down your neck teasingly. “Something good perhaps?”

“No, sorry.” You burrow closer to his chest. “Just had a… thought.” Lucifer’s thumb stills, halting the teasing pattern he had been tracing into your thigh. He scowls brushing his nose across the crown of your head. If you were thinking of anything other than him, then he was doing this wrong.

That thought was… offending. He had carved out a spot for you in his already ridiculous schedule, and yet you seemed miles away. Normally these precious moments were spent with you snuggling close loving his undivided attention, and him loving yours in kind.

Tonight your demeanor was so demure. You clung to him as usual, soft lips trailing down his jaw to the little sliver of exposed skin from where he had loosened his tie hours ago. But, it just felt like you were just going through the motions. “Speak.” A request and order in one.

"If given the chance, would you eat me?"

"What?" Lucifer cups the back of your head and pulls you away to make eye contact. "What?" He balks, eyes wide. His expression was completely undignified. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

You explain to him about a conversation you had overheard in your early days of the exchange program. For some reason, it just hit you then at the feel of his mouth on you.

"I- hmmm. Personally, I would have fed you to Cerberus. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh." He settles back into his office chair unfazed. He thought he had something to worry about. "Besides, I have come to find I like you warm and breathing." He pinches your side teasingly ready to get the evening back on track.

"Wait! You thought about it!?" His blasé tone takes you aback.

Lucifer knocks his forehead into yours with a snicker. "Not too hard. Besides you'd probably give my pups indigestion with all the trouble you’ve turned out to be."

Beelzebub

He likes to spend time with you at his favorite cafe. The one with the little tea cakes and great sandwiches.

Normally you will spend a weeknight there studying and munching together. One hand scribbling away in your notebook and the other engulfed in his large hand. By the end of the night though, you always find your legs interwoven with his and his ginger head resting on top of yours.

He is full and happy. So happy in fact, he steals a kiss, and then another.

It’s a good thing he picked a booth in the back so the rest of the cafe can ignore the couple nestled closer and closer in the back. He sneaks a few more peaks in here and there, whispering softly. It was going great until- He hadn’t expected to feel you lock up. Was it something he said?

You’re embarrassed when he pulls away and tries to brush it off. You just got swept up in some thoughts, no biggie.

He won’t pry, he gets it, it happens to him too. But, when you untangle yourself from him he has to know what’s up.

When you tell him he is distraught. Because he 100% has and probably still will eat a person. He might have munched on a witch that had pissed him off just the other day…

What he hates most is he can’t really lie and deny that he hasn’t thought about it.

“You taste amazing.” His words ghost over your lips as he savors the sweet mix of your coffee and natural flavor. You always taste like spiced oranges and honey when your lips brush. It’s intoxicating. Suddenly the flavor of you changes, a sour note hits his tongue. You go still and look out across the small cafe.“Are you ok?”

You pull away blinking rapidly. “Yeah-sorry.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Just...had a thought.” You try to move back into his arms but he stops you.

"What's the matter?" He tilts your chin up with a callous finger. You turn your head away and answer. "What?" He could hear you just fine. Superhuman hearing and all, but he just couldn’t comprehend what he heard.

"Do you consider me as a food?" You repeat yourself. "I know demons eat people, and like you've mentioned it before. I guess, I don't know. Shouldn't I be scared?" You've never seen a demon wilt before. Beel recoils and tucks in on himself. His hand flops down to sit on his thigh.

Of Course, he did think about it. Hell’s he had considered it. Aside from being a demon, he was the avatar of gluttony. How many nights had he laid in bed, stomach growling, and your scent filling his nose when you first arrived. Mammon had a work out the first few weeks of school dragging him away from your immediate vicinity. It was fortunate for the both of you that you had bonded so quickly or else he could have ruined everything.

His silence was enough for you to know. "Crazy how things turn out right?" You try to lighten the mood. You stroke his hair gently trying to comfort him. "Sorry, I kinda ruined date night huh?"

"No, no this is good." He chuckles rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Or I mean. We should talk about this. Before Diavolo started working on the exchange program, human souls and flesh were pretty common delicacies." Beel collects his thoughts with a sigh. “The verdict didn’t go over well at first. I wasn’t too happy either if I’m being honest. But, I’m happy he did it in the long run.” He meets your gaze with a warm smile. “You’re the kinda treat I want to enjoy for eternity.”

Asmodeus

A deviant. An absolute terror when it comes to PDA. He doesn’t care if it’s class time. If he wants to be in your lap then that's where he'll be.

He'll nuzzle the crook of your neck whenever he finds his way on to your thighs. He always has a compliment ready for you. New perfume or cologne? Is that shirt the one he bought you? He'll dote on you for hours until you are a blushing mess.

He schedules out movie nights with you. Just the two of you, some good drinks, plenty of pillows, and no bothersome brothers.

The movie he picked tonight was an oldie from the Devildom. He was feeling a little sentimental and thought you would enjoy seeing some culture. You agree, but forget one little thing.

Old Devildom culture was...pretty graphic.

Asmo doesn’t notice how your mind drifted off during the opening act. He is busy creating a new trail of hickies along your shoulder and upper arm around his pact.

He does notice when he hits the sensitive spot of your neck that normally has you squirming but-nothing. Huh? Was he losing his touch? He is usually so aware of his partner's mood. He asks what’s wrong.

Your question comes out of left field. He panics, figuring the movie wasn’t the best for this conversation. He turns it off and gives you his full attention.

Has he eaten a human or two before. Yes, back when he was young and would get swept up in the heat of the moment. Crimson was a lovely color on him.

You try to console him. Really you get it, it was an errant thought. You know he won’t eat you.

Can he still call you a snack tho?

You watch the movie in dead silence. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figure you should probably be disturbed by what you see on screen. Were you that desensitized? Probably. Should that worry you? Maybe? You try to weigh it out in your hand. The black and white feature flashing across your eyes. You have seen worse in crappy human B rated horror movies. But, those were special effects and pints of red-colored slime and food coloring. You had a nagging suspicion that the scene in front of you was real. You glance down at the slim demon trying to fuse his body into yours. His body flickering in and out of focus in the flickering lights of the movie. You try to focus on him, his warm body nestling closer to you under the blankets. It worked for a moment before another loud roar from the screen dragged your eyes back up.

The contrast between the violence on the projector and the soft innocents of Asmodeus’s lips on the corners of yours was wild. He wasn’t even paying attention to the film. Typical. This was his normal ploy to have you all to himself. It worked though, and you loved it. Oh- You watch with wrapped attention as the human on screen was consumed both body and soul by a horde of demons.

“Is the film more magnetic than me?” Asmodeus pulls away licking his lips. His rose-colored gloss was smeared across his cheek. You shudder blinking past the sudden thought of what that soft red color also looked like.

"Nah," You huff wrapping your arms around him to press your chest to his. He purrs practically preening from your attention. "Just thinking."

"Oh~" You can feel his playful smile stretching along your hairline. "Care to share." He nips your earlobe.

"I just, humans really are just kinda food to you guys huh?”

You’ve never seen Asmodeus move so fast before in your life. One moment he is doing his best impression of an octopus and the next he is standing several feet away from you, hands raised in a mix of shock and defense. “Where would you-” He trails off hearing the sound of violence and death behind him. “Oh Hells.” He clicks off the projector in a panic. “I am so sorry honey! I did not think that through.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Would this be an inappropriate time to say I would go straight to your thighs?”

Asmodeus snorts in the dark. “Hips more like. You are nothing but sugar and fluff.” He flips the lights back on and he comes back to kneel next to you. He cups your face. “You know I would never do that right? I can’t say I haven’t done it before but I’ve never thought that about you.”

You hum kissing his warm palm. “Should I be offended or thankful?”

He hits you playfully. “That’s not funny!” You laugh taking his light swats, grateful that the mood in the room was already lightning.

“It is and you know it.” You scoop him back into your lap and snatch the remote up from where he had tossed it. “Come on let’s finish movie night. I’m picking the show this time.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #Obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #fun prompt!

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apocalypticwafflekitten · 3 years

Text

Summer Night

Post-Burn Kabal x Reader

A/N: Is the self-indulgent? Yes. Is it completely unrealistic in MK context? Yes. Do I care? No. So here’s some fluffy hurt/comfort because this man needs love and I’m here to give it to him.

So, I wrote most of this while listening to this song, so feel free to give it a listen while you read!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: So there’s a poem mentioned in this story, and it’s one that I actually did write a while back for a Creative Writing class. It had this same kind of summer night setting, and I really wanted to use it in an actually story, so this is born partially from that, and partially from allll the feels I have for Kabal. I cannot express how bad I want to give this man a hug.

Warnings: A very emotional, insecure, soft Kabal who needs all the comfort in the world. Very much a hurt/comfort fic. Other than that, nope, just fluff for this man and all the love he deserves!

Word Count: ahhhhhhh I’m on mobile!

He didn’t think you’d ever look at him again. The scarring that marred his face mocked him for even thinking of it. The face in the mirror before him was hideous. Long ago he’d accepted the idea that you’d only ever see him with his mask on. That you’d only want to see him with the mask.

But what did a mirror know? You’d always been there for him before, and you hadn’t shown any sign of leaving him now. Maybe you’d stay. But who was he kidding? One look at his face and you’d go running off like everyone else.

No. That’s not right. He had to have more faith in you than that. You wouldn’t leave him like that. You wouldn’t run away from him. That’s what he would do. You were stronger than that. Stronger than him at least.

So every once in a while, the idea, the notion of taking off the mask and showing you what was waiting beneath it tempted him. Sometimes he wanted to rip the thing off and beg you to see that he was the same man as before. Even now, as he replaced the respirator on his face, he wondered if you would say anything should he leave the bathroom with his face bared to you. All your possible reactions swarmed his imagination until it was all just noises. Some were screams of terror, others were violent sobs. And sometimes it was silence, followed by the creaking of a closing door. It was all too much.

He shook his head to clear it all out, and took in a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the wheat and corn fields just outside the safe-house.

The two of you were on a job. It was an easy in and out mission that didn’t really matter much in the long run, but it was important for you. It landed you smack dab in the middle of a prairie on the border of a farmer’s land. The crickets chirped and soft breezes flew through the open windows, carrying sweet scents and the peaceful air of a summer night.

When Kabal saw no sign of you in the the house, he looked outside, only to find you sitting on the porch swing, looking up at the stars above you. The chipped, white paint on the bench looked almost blue as the moon began to rise, lighting the surrounding farmland in a silvery, glowing light.

“Hey,” Kabal greeted tentatively, “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey. I was just looking at the stars, taking in the farmland and the open space. It’s making me a bit homesick to be truthful, but I still like it. Something about seeing the night sky right against the crest of a grassy field with nothing else between them is...it’s beautiful. It’s calming in a way. It’s so simple and plain, but there’s more to it than that. It’s more beautiful than you would expect. I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone but me, but hopefully someone out there understands.” You smiled to yourself and curled up further on the bench-swing, holding you knees to your chest while a slow, steady rock lulled you into your thoughts once more.

Kabal took a moment to follow your eyes and see what you were talking about. He wasn’t surprised that you were right. The gentle hill that rose about an acre or two away hit the horizon and kissed the night sky. And it was beautiful--even through the red tint his mask gave everything. You couldn’t see the city that lay beyond the hill, nor could you see the fence that marked the plot of land. It was just grass and sky, and the stars haloing the moon.

“I understand. It is beautiful. More than you would imagine,” He repeats you, thinking about something else you’d mentioned, “You said it made you homesick?”

The question sits in the air for a moment as Kabal took a seat next to you, using his legs to keep the swing’s gentle rock going.

“Yeah. This place remind me a lot of my home, and I’m just realizing how much I miss it,” You lean in to his side, letting him drape an arm behind you out of habit, “But that’s not a bad thing. I mean, if I hadn’t’ve left, I never would have met you.”

You kissed the side of his mask, and rested your head back on his shoulder. Sometimes you acted as though nothing had changed. The way you so casually kiss his mask, and lean back into him as if you’d just kissed his cheek bewildered him. Could you not see how awful it was? How messed up it is that he even has to wear this thing? Or how messed up the face beneath it was? Well, of course you couldn’t see that, but still. How could you see this and still love him the way you had before the fire? And what you’d said? Was meeting him some monument in your memory? Was he really worthy of that? Maybe he would have assumed so in the past before all of this, but now? How could you still see him in such an important light?

“Hey. Hey, Kabal? Come in Kabal!” You laughed when you saw his head shake as he was brought back to the present.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but smile a little when he heard your laugh.

“Come with me.” You whispered, eyes wide and full of something warmer than mischief, but not entirely different as you stood and held out your hand.

“Where are we going?” Kabal asked, but truthfully he didn’t care. Being with you was enough no matter where he was, as long as you were there beside him.

“You’ll see.” You smiled and took his hand, guiding him off the porch, towards the cornfield aside the house.

Your hand in his was small and gentle just like he remembered. He wanted to remember more. He wanted to remember everything about you. The way you used to hold him at night and tell him how safe you felt in his arms. Or how you would trace his face and kiss his eyelids while he napped on your lap. He wanted to memorize the smell of your perfume, but only by kissing the tender skin of your wrist and whispering there how much he loved you. He wanted to admire you like that again, instead of following you with wide eyes from behind a mask. For once in a long, long time, he actually wanted to take the mask off, if only to kiss you and see your beautiful face again without the red tint his glowing eyes gave the world.

You brought him out to the edge of a cornfield where the tall stalks looked gold under the starlight, and the bright moon gave enough light to walk by. The sky seemed endless above these shining fields, as if all the cities in the world melted away and the land before you stretched on forever. A long, emerald, grassy plane where dainty wildflowers grew in the spring stretching across the horizon and beyond it. In this moment, walking with Kabal, the safe house faded away and the crickets’ chirp dissolved into the air. It was just you and your lover beside you, walking your own moonlit trail by the side of the cornfield.

Kabal loved the sweet aroma from the crops beside him. When he looked up he constantly found himself in awe of just how many stars he could see. There were trillions more up there than he had ever known of and it gave him exhilarated chills. The most beautiful part though? It was you. You happily took stride next to him and let a comfortable quiet fall over you two.

He kept looking to you, although you never noticed, or if you did you hadn’t said anything about it. Just...the way the moonlight lit your face made you look like something divine—something perfect for him. Something he wanted to hold and squeeze and touch and love. Something he wanted forever.

Kabal was broken from his reverie when you suggested sitting on the wooden fence that outlined the neighboring farmer’s land. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t too terribly bad either, just a little wobbly. To make up for it though, the view from this spot was beautiful. The moon hung high above the safe house, watching over the small building and the grassy plot where it lay. He could see why you’d decided to sit here of all places.

You were quiet for a few moments, enjoying the gentle breezes that would pass by. It was comforting—unlike anything Kabal had felt in a long long time.

“You know, I wrote a poem once about walking through a corn field to sit and talk with the moon awhile. Sitting here with you reminds me of it.” You think out loud.

“Hmm. I didn’t know you wrote.” Kabal remarked, finding himself suddenly curious about your apparent hobby.

“Yeah. A bit. When I have the time to. But that doesn’t happen often these days.”

“No joke. You a big fan of poetry?”

“Oh yeah. I could go on for days,” you smiled bashfully, turning away, “but I don’t think you want to hear about that.”

“I wouldn’t mind. Especially if it was you doing the talking.” You could hear the smirk coming from behind the mask, and you cherished it—loving the moments when the old Kabal would shine through.

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe I’ll steal you for a day and lecture you on my favorite poets.” You laughed at your own joke, but Kabal hoped that one day you would. Getting to see you excited about anything always lightened up his day.

You both sat on the wooden fence for what seemed like ages, silently enjoying the warm, quiet night together. You would point out constellations every once in a while, and at one point you got so excited about a shooting star that you nearly fell off the fence! Kabal had to rush a hand behind you to keep you from falling flat on your back! But there was a long stretch of time after that where the two of you settled into a comfortable silence and you leaned against him, letting your head rest close to his heart.

“Can I ask you something?” Kabal whispered, breaking the silence with a quiet push.

“Sure.” You answered, keeping your eyes on the stars above.

“Do you...do you still love me? With the respirator and everything?”

He saw the way your head whipped around to face him and he knew he’d struck something deep in your heart. Your eyes went wide, and a worried tilt crested your brows. For a moment he felt stupid for asking. The small amount of time where you went silent to process his question felt like minutes where his insecurities could eat him alive and swallow him into the night.

“Of course I still love you Kabal!” You rushed out, trying to think of a million ways to reassure him. You held his hands again, and those deep, wide eyes looked right into his, “What’s brought this up?”

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t know how you can love me like this. You can’t even see my face. And I’m...I dunno...I’m different.” He mumbled, looking down to his hands, and how yours held them so tight.

“Kabal,” you began with a careful, comforting tone, “I’m always going to love you. Mask or no mask. Burns or no burns.”

He took a moment to let your words sink in, watching you as he realized what your words meant.

“So the mask...doesn’t bother you?” Kabal asked, allowing just the littlest bit of hope to seep into his voice.

“No. Not at all.” You replied simply,

“Why?” He had to know. His voice may have been a quiet scratch through his respirator, but behind it was all the desperation of a man lost.

“Because I know it’s still you under the mask. I’m still sitting next to the man whose perfect idea of a date was barhopping until the early hours of the morning, then drunkenly watching bad movies on your couch until the sun came up. I’m still sitting next to they guy who spent a whole hour explaining the lore of Ninja Mime and why the fourth once was shit. And I’m still sitting next to the guy who played Christmas carols for me on his marimba just to make me smile. You see, I fell in love with you. Not your face or your body. You. Yes it’s different now. Yes it’s a bit of an adjustment, but you’re still you under the mask, so it makes it easy for me. It’s not hard to stay in love with someone you fell for a long time ago, even if they look different.”

By the time you were done there were tears streaming down Kabal’s face. He wanted to hug you and kiss you and hold you all at once forever. His heart was pounding and twisting and clutching and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you!” Kabal declared desperately, with all his heart in it. You didn’t miss the hitched sniffle that came from behind the respirator, “I love you so, so much.”

In every word you could hear the thanks that was pouring from him. In that small phrase, in those six words, he thanked you for everything you’d said. He thanked you for not giving up on him, for continuing to be by his side through everything, for showing how you loved him and how deep it truly ran. He put everything he was feeling into those words, everything he couldn’t find words to say. He put the way his heart clenched in those words and you could feel it - his words carrying his whole heart .

Kabal pressed his forehead to yours and you nuzzled your nose against his mask, enjoying this tender moment with him - one of few you were able to have in your line of work.

Before he could pull away, you decided to act upon a wish you’d had for months now. Your only hope is that Kabal would let you. You slowly took your hands from his and ran them up his arms, feeling his strong muscles beneath the marred skin. The bumpy pattern rippling under your fingers when he twitched. You kept your forehead to his as your hands travel over his shoulders to rest for a moment at the base of his neck. There you wait for any sign. Any signal that he wants you to stop. Instead his breathing grows heavy and he tenses, anticipating everything you might do, but he doesn’t stop you.

Ever so slowly, your hands trail up to the sides of his mask and you rub circles against it with your thumb, trying to soothe the man beneath it.

You give him a small smile before bringing your fingers to the edge of his mask. For a second you’re able to slip your fingers beneath the respirator and feel the curve of his jaw. But before you could pull it further from him, his hands shoot up to grab your wrists, a moment of flooding insecurity breaking his resolve.

“Are you sure?” His question is quiet, almost quivering in his tone.

You give him that smile again before looking straight into his eyes.

“Yes. Yes I’m sure.” you insisted with a gentle warmth in your voice.

Kabal let out a stuttering exhale, and let go of your wrists. His hands found themselves sitting restlessly in his lap as every muscle in him was tense with fear.

Again, with caring conviction you began to pull the mask from his face, revealing the scarred surface beneath. His emotions were plain and clear for you to see in his tilted brows and the glistening tear streaks falling down his uneven cheek.

You took a minute to look at him--to see what the fire had done and why he had been so reluctant to show himself to you. But just moments after the mask had been removed and his face had been bared to you, you broke out into the largest smile Kabal had ever seen.

You whispered with happiness warming your tone; happiness like Kabal had never heard before, “There’s that handsome face. I’ve missed you.”

Kabal looked you in the eyes, tears welling up in his own at your simple response to his horribly scarred face. His heart caved in relief, letting him slump against you, once more pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’ve missed you too.” He whimpered, finally letting himself go--letting the buildup of anticipation and fear drop from his shoulders so that he could finally do the one thing he’d wanted to do most since the fire.

He kissed you. Hard and desperate and oh so familiar. His lips locked onto yours as they had a million times before and he wondered how he’d gone so long without this. Your lips played against his the way they always did. Damn it everything was perfect. He whined, sobbing into your kiss as joy and relief flooded his every nerve.

You pulled him back, wanting to kiss him again and again and again for the rest of time. He was still here! Your Kabal! Here to kiss you until you were dizzy, and love you until the world stopped spinning. You couldn’t get enough. Each kiss more desperate than the last as you held his face in your hands and wiped away his tears.

He broke off for just a moment to grapple onto you, hugging you right against him.

“You have no idea how much this means to me.” He whispered in your ear. His chest hurt with how his heart ached for you. He wanted you close—so close that he could never lose you.

You smile to yourself and bury your face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his smell and nuzzling against his skin. You reach up and gently card your hands through his hair, offering him comfort and reassurance.

Again, it’s just you and Kabal, and the sound of his breathing, quiet and labored beside you. His hands gripped the back of your shirt in tight fists, and every once in a while you’d hear a quiet sniff.

But in a few minutes you felt his breathing grow ragged, and as much as you wanted to stay in this embrace, you knew he needed to replace the respirator.

“Hey, come on hun, you need to put the respirator back on. I love getting to see your face again, but I’d love to keep you alive even more.” You laughed a little, meeting his eyes once you’d pulled away.

He laughed a little as well, grabbing the mask and slipping it over his face again.

You watched him, listening as his breathing evened out until he turned to you. You imagined he quirked an eyebrow under the mask.

“Whatcha staring at?”

“The handsomest man in the world.” You smile up at his face and grab his hand as he stares back into your eyes.

“Come on, let’s get back to the house. It’s getting kinda chilly out here.”

He didn’t say anything. He just nodded and stood from the fence, beginning the walk home with you by his side.

Tags!

@onabouteverything

#kabal x reader #kabal mk #mk kabal #kabal #kabal mortal kombat #your honor I love him

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starlightsearches · 3 years

Text

Eyes On Me Ch. 2

Masterlist

Modern Armitage Hux x F! Reader Warnings: RC is a sex-worker, discussions of sex, language.

AN: Hello besties! Here's the smutty second part to this thing. As I mentioned before, I've only got a vague idea where this story is going to go, so if there's anything you'd like to see, please let me know! I'm already planning the next chapter (we're gonna meet Brendol 👀) but otherwise my plans are up in the air!

18+ only, minors will be blocked. PIV sex, oral (f and m receiving), clothed sex, lots of feelings, insecurity, we're getting fucked on the blue couch 😏. Let me know what you think!!

It’s a quaint neighborhood.

Sturdy little brownstones, lined up in neat rows, slumber on either side of the street, their large picture windows reflecting soft squares of moonlight over the vacant sidewalk. A warm breeze brushes past, carrying with it the scent of his neighbor’s lilac bushes as it kisses your bare shoulders. The night is silent and still, the world empty of any human influence—except for the soft sound of your breathing, and the jangle of Armitage’s keys as they almost slip again from his hands.

It’s late, and you’re alone; it’s only natural that his nerves would begin to show—a steady crescendo as the night dragged closer to this moment—although he did an excellent job at masking them during dinner. The tips of your fingers tingle, itching to reach out, to calm him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, but you resist. It would probably just make it worse.

The lock gives with a click, and he sighs in relief, gesturing for you to enter. You step over the threshold, letting your eyes adjust from the silver-tinged moonlight, slipping your shoes from your feet as you take in the orderly little entrance.

There are no pictures or paintings on his grey walls, no photographs resting in frames on the dark-wood table by the door. Instead, he has a white ceramic bowl—into which he drops his keys—and a small stack of mail. There’s a soft little cat bed underneath the table, and it’s occupied by the fattest ginger cat you’ve ever seen. It stares up at you with round, sleepy eyes, meowing indignantly, like it’s waiting for you to introduce yourself and completely unnerved that you’d be so rude to keep it waiting.

He gestures towards the furry little creature as she stands from the bed, stretching her spine luxuriously before winding around your legs, examining you with a haughty air, “that’s—”

“Millicent—I remember,” you finish for him before crouching down to pet her. She nudges her tiny head against your hand, sniffing your palm, her eyes narrowed shrewdly. Her judgement must lean in your favor, because she nuzzles in close to you, chirping contentedly when you scratch at the fur around her chin. Armitage watches uneasily, then lets his gaze drift, examining the little room the same way you did, discreetly drying his palms off on the fabric of his pants.

He still hasn’t kissed you. Some men skip past that part, of course, going straight for a handful of your ass, but most stole a kiss after the first meeting—sampling the goods, or whatever.

Armitage hasn’t tried anything yet, and you can’t help but be disappointed. You’ve had little else to think about now that you’ve been freed from the rest of your work obligations, and the anticipation it’s built has made you tense and jittery, like a teenager on a first date. All night you’ve been staring at his mouth, chest full of buzzing nerves, trying to picture how his lips would feel against your skin. You hardly heard a word he said during dinner, had to restrain yourself from jumping him in the back of the cab, watching him gnaw nervously at his plush bottom lip.

The waiting is painful, but the thought of cutting it short is absolutely unbearable. You couldn’t deprive yourself of it, seeing what he would be like the first time he tasted you.

Would he be shy, still? There has to be a commanding aspect somewhere inside him, and the idea is thrilling. What would it take to get that out?

You’re still contemplating the idea when you brush past him, venturing deeper into his home. There might be some future time where he’ll be the one in control, but until then, you’re happy to take the lead.

The living room is equally bare of any personal touch, decorated like a stage setting in a luxury furniture store, with one surprising statement piece. You run your hand over the back of the velvet couch, letting the soft fibers caress your skin. It’s the color of the sky, right before sunrise—a pure, bright blue.

He lurks behind you in the doorway and you turn to him, offering direction.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and pour us something to drink while I take a moment to freshen up?”

He nods, shoulders dropping—probably grateful he still has a few moments to collect himself—and points you in the direction of a quaint little guest bathroom off the entryway.

You move through your checklist methodically, familiar with the process: brushing your teeth, fixing your makeup, fluffing your hair and reapplying perfume. When everything else is satisfactory, you reach into your purse for your secret weapon.

The golden tube catches the light, the lid sliding off smoothly before you set it on the marble counter. The inside holds a perfect teardrop of dark red lipstick, like an animal in a gilded shell. It’s the color of wet cherries, glistening like blood.

It glides smoothly over your lips, tracing down along the edge without feathering, it’s untouched surface contoured perfectly to fit within the lines. You stand straight, admiring the effect in the mirror.

It’s time to go to work.

Armitage almost feels like he’s alone.

With a glass of wine in his hand and Millicent sleeping contentedly nearby, this could be any other evening—if every nerve in his body wasn’t in uproar, agonizing over your presence only a few feet away.

He knew this was coming, obviously; he shouldn’t be so nervous. Isn’t that why he contacted you in the first place? No guesswork, no fretting over ghastly first impressions. He wanted something logical. Transactional. Right now he’s feeling the opposite.

“Do you want me to turn on a light?”

He jumps, practically out of his skin, when he realizes you’re in the room, just barely managing to keep the wine in his glass and off the couch.

“No . . . no.” He should say something else, but he’s lost the capacity for speech.

You sway towards him with a smile on your face, a goddess of the night—like a specter in a story that preys on foolish young men before stealing their souls, or ripping their still-bleeding hearts out of their chests.

It’s an illicit transformation—he no longer feels like it would be safe to take you out into decent society, not just for you, but for him. He observes the minor changes: the slight tousling of your hair, the dark lipstick, the way the strap of your dress falls down over one shoulder. He wonders if it happened naturally or if you placed it there yourself.

Regardless, it has its desired effect.

He skims his palm over his thigh, the muscles beneath his fingers tightening when you fall onto the cushion beside him. You take the other glass of wine from the coffee table without breaking from his gaze.

“Should we make a toast?”

“A toast to what?”

“Hmm—” you smile at him teasingly, “I have one in mind but I don’t think you’ll like it. It’s a bit vulgar.”

“Now I have to know,” he whispers back without thinking about it, parroting your manner. He’d probably follow you into oncoming traffic if you flashed a smile his way and took the first step.

You tip your glass against his with a soft clink, the red liquid inside it swirling around its edges. “To getting fucked.”

He swallows, heart leaping in his chest. “To— to getting fucked.”

You take a sip of the wine, pulling the glass away to admire the neat half-moon of lipstick you’ve left behind on its surface. It looks black in the darkness, an impression of your mouth so perfect he can almost feel it.

He doesn’t think about it first, and that in itself is an achievement. He takes in the passing sensations as he moves in—the smell of your perfume, the heat of your skin, the little gasping noise you make when you realize how close he is—and then he’s kissing you.

It’s so, so soft. Too soft, given the circumstances. There’s no doubt, he is hungry for you, but this is what he’s been deprived of: a kiss—something gentle and good. Something innocent that can’t be taken away or lorded over him, crushed in his father’s grip like the petals of a long-dried flower.

Your fingers cup his jaw, delicately, at first, your grip growing insistent as you pull him closer.

And then the innocence is gone.

Your skirt pulls tighter against your hips when you shift, until he can feel the curve of your breast on his arm, and the weight of your thigh against his. He gasps, razor sharp, placing his hands at your waist. You must feel the way they shake.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” you promise, the words falling against the skin of his neck as you kiss down, down, down, your smeared lipstick leaving a path of sticky bruises, “we can do whatever you like.”

You're gripping at his thigh, fingers digging in against his flesh. God, you’re good at that—driving him wild with the faintest touches. He jumps in his seat, back arching away from the couch when you trace along his jaw with your tongue.

“It’s, god, just been— so long.”

Jesus, as if you didn’t already know that.

Your dress slips higher up your thighs as you shift from the couch, planting your knees in the plush carpet. “Why don’t I help you relax?”

Fucking hell. His jaw pulls sharply towards the ceiling as he leans his head back, fists pressed tight against his legs. You brush his hands out of the way, stroking up and down his thighs—a familiar feeling from his own hands, but not from yours.

Your left hand continues its travels, giving a wide berth to his very apparent hard-on, gripping the tail of his tie in your fist. You give the piece of fabric a slight tug, and he bends, pliant under your scrutiny.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You search his face with solemn eyes, brow furrowed, like you’re solving a puzzle, or deciphering a code. He wonders if he’s left the answers for you written across his skin, if you’ll be able to translate what he’s feeling just by looking at him, like the impression of a pen pressed too hard into the paper.

“I’m afraid.”

What is it about you that makes him tell the truth so easily? You’re the last person he should be honest with.

Well, maybe not the last person.

“Why?”

“I’m—” he pauses, trying to formulate a coherent answer out of the horrified screaming inside him, “I don’t want this to be horrible for you.”

You brush the concern aside with your free hand, offering him the ghost of a smile. “I don’t believe in bad sex. You know, do what you love, and all that.”

And you’ll never work a day in your life. He huffs a laugh against his will, and you smile wider, knowing you’ve caught him off guard.

“This won’t be horrible for me, but if it makes you feel better, I promise to be honest with you. And if somehow you are completely shit at sex—which I absolutely don’t think you will be—we can find a way to fix that.”

Your words are entirely sincere, without malice or judgement. Maybe you should have been a therapist, or a hostage negotiator. There's nobody in the world who would want to hide from you.

He breathes once, twice, and then settles, the nerves draining from him like the helium in a week-old balloon, there and then gone.

You twist your hand, wrapping the fabric of his tie around your palm, pulling him closer, keeping your eyes open. He melts against the press of your lips, lurching forward in his seat in a sloppy attempt to deepen the kiss, but you pull back, slowing the tempo, nipping teasingly at his skin when he lets you take the lead.

Oh. He can do that. It’s nice not to have to take charge, to do something without a pack of inquisitive eyes upon him, ready to work only once he’s given direction.

He waits for your next instructions, shifting in his seat when you stroke your hand up over his thigh again. Hesitation grips his chest, but he pushes it aside, parting his knees around your waist, no longer keeping you away but caging you in.

You undo the buckle of his belt with one hand, fingers skimming over the soft swell of his stomach as you work at the button on his trousers. He could be embarrassed if he wanted to, but there’s so many other things to feel, and so many of them are good. You take him in your hand, freeing him from the too-tight confines of his clothing. The air is cold against his cock, and colder against the tip, bright red and already leaking.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, leaning in closer, running your tongue against the seam of your lips.

His mouth is too wet, but he can’t swallow past the tightness in his throat. “Really?”

“I told you I was going to be honest.”

You moisten your lips once more, and then part them in a soft o, bring them to the head of his dick.

Oh god. There’s heaven in your mouth, in the way your tongue moves against him—warm and wet, and so gentle as it explores the tip of his cock, tasting his skin and his spend. You gag a little—did someone teach you how to do that?—taking him farther down your throat, his cock jumping against your lips when the head nudges against your soft palate.

You hollow out your cheeks, your hand sliding up and down the base, finding a rhythm, your lips dragging deliciously over his skin and it takes everything in him to stay present, to stay conscious.

Does every part of you feel this exquisite?

As soon as he’s thought about it, he has to know. His hands are in your hair, at the back of your neck, his voice hardly a breath when he speaks.

“Stop, please, stop.”

You pull back, your vision a little blurry with unshed tears and mouth slick with spit; he’s bigger than you expected. You know there must be lipstick smeared across your cheeks, but he looks at you so gently, cupping the back of your neck in one hand, begging sweetly.

“I want to be inside of you.”

Your knees ache, but you stand anyway, pulling your dress out of the way as you straddle his lap.

He tastes so good, every part of him, but you can’t get enough of this—of his soft mouth, the clear tang of desire when he presses his tongue against yours.

The men you work with always wanted sex—obviously—but not necessarily with you. They craved release, or some semblance of power, but sex was just the way they accessed whatever it is they truly wanted, and regardless how picky some of them managed to be, in the end it wasn’t about you at all.

It feels different with Armitage, and that alone is frightening. When he puts his hands on you, whatever bubble, whatever shield you kept with the rest of them is gone. When he touches you, you feel it.

You feel it now, his hands at your waist, pulling you close enough that the weight of his cock presses low against your stomach, and you grind down against it, just to be a tease.

He catches you by surprise, shifting your weight off his lap and onto the couch. You land on your back, shoulder blades pressed deep into the cushions, and he keeps your hands trapped, thrown over the armrest, pinning your wrists in his long fingers.

Damn. He’s really good at that.

“Is that alright?” he asks, and you nod, trying to catch your breath.

All of the urgency from before is gone, his movements delicate and unhurried. It’s possible he’s just stalling, trying to regain his control so he doesn’t cum on the first thrust, but the look in his eyes says something different.

His fingers skim against the edge of your thigh, catching the hem of your dress and moving higher, higher, until his palm rests at the curve of your waist.

“Black lace.”

His eyes are on the swell of your hip, lips just slightly parted as he slides his hand back down, pulling the edge of your underwear back and letting it snap lightly against your skin. Your muscles pull tighter in response, thighs pressing together unconsciously until he slips his fingers down the front of your lace covered mound, pulling back the lacy edge and uncovering your slick cunt with one finger.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, shifting forward, storm-colored eyes intense when they meet yours.

“Yes.”

Your eyes are on the ceiling; you count your breaths, paying close attention to the soft crinkle of the condom wrapper in his hand, the soft velvet of the couch beneath your shoulder blades. When did you become the nervous one?

The head of his dick is at your entrance, his hips shifting forward until he’s inside you, leaning over you with one hand braced on the couch cushion, his fingers on the other hand gripping tightly at your hip.

Then he starts to move.

He thrusts into you, slow and steady, but there’s a surprising amount of power behind each movement. The couch shifts against the floor with every snap of his hips, and your eyes roll back the deeper he goes, hitting a spot inside of you that makes your vision go dark at the edges.

You should do something—kiss his neck, or run your hands through his hair—but you can’t move. Your arms stay leaden, draped behind you and buzzing with blood loss, and you can’t think, head cloudy like you’ve had too much wine. There’s no room inside you for pretense, no room for anything but him.

A few pathetic little moans fall from your lips, without the charm or passion of artificial cries. You’re too close, whole body tight like an elastic band, ready to give.

It’s just not close enough.

He finishes with a groan, his breath hot and wet against your neck when his arms give out, chest crushed up against yours as his release courses through him.

He stays that way, lips traveling against your neck, stopping when he feels the thrum of your racing pulse.

He rolls off of you, removing the condom and throwing it into the trash before tucking himself away.

“Did you finish?” he asks between ragged breaths, his head lolling against the back of the couch so he can look at you.

You’re still struggling to catch your own breath. You told him you wouldn’t lie, but he deserves more than just a shake of the head. It’s true that you didn’t finish, but that’s not the whole of it. You can’t remember ever feeling like this before, vibrating on a different frequency just because he put his hands on you. It’s not an orgasm, but you’ve had plenty of those, and you’d have plenty more. This is something rare.

You definitely can’t say that, so you stick to the manageable truth.

“No.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping in a gesture you might mistake for defeat, if he didn’t immediately shift onto his knees, resting both warm palms on the tops of your thighs. He presses his fingers against your skin, urging them apart. You place your hands over his own.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He strokes his thumb in slow circles over your skin. “I know.”

His hands slide underneath your knees, pulling you forward, his trembling fingers cold and slick as he slides the black lace down over your skin, baring you to him.

Soft kisses across your inner thighs, the trace of his tongue and sting of his teeth—this is all new to you. He’s gentle in a way that feels dangerous, too vulnerable, like he could cut you open with the barest touches.

His tongue licks softly at your clit, and he moans, the vibrations traveling through your stomach, and it takes work to breathe. Whatever he lacks in experience he makes up for it in persistence, his nose buried deep in your folds, his mouth hot and wet as he kisses at your core. The look in his eyes is so earnest, like he truly cares about your pleasure.

It’s too close. He’s too close. This won’t end well.

But it’s difficult to be so fatalistic when you’re melting from the inside out, body wracked with molten pleasure. You’ll be better next time, but for now, you’ll allow yourself this: your fingers threading through his hair, your eyes on his as you succumb to the feeling he's giving you.

He sits back down beside you, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, staining it with smears of lipstick and your spend.

“So,” he says and his heavy breathing slows, growing shallow and calm. He probably wonders if you’ll leave now. You don’t want to go.

You straddle him, sliding the zipper of your dress down your back before slipping the straps off of your shoulders.

“We could go again.”

A few hours later, Armitage stands on the small front porch, watching the first inklings of morning spread its fingers through the dark blue night. You’re standing beside him, eyes down the road, gnawing absentmindedly at your bottom lip when the taxi turns down his quiet street.

“I think that’s for me,” you whisper, turning to face him. You’ve wiped the lipstick from off your face, mouth soft and swollen, the last reminder of what happened here tonight.

He nods, and you press a kiss to his cheek, taking his fingers in yours.

“Just let me know when you’d like to see me again; we’ll make plans.”

You take the first step down the stairs, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “You’ll tell me,” he asks, although he’s sure he probably shouldn’t, “when you’re home safe?”

You pause, mouth gaping, and it confirms he was right in thinking that he's crossed a boundary. “If that’s what you want.”

“I do.” There’s more that he wants, but he’ll settle for this. He learned long ago that money can't buy everything.

He watches you climb into the cab before going back inside, and he rests his head against the cool surface of the door.

He is so, incredibly, fucked.

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sisterofsomeone · 3 years

Text

花吐き病 - Part 2 – The Clawing of Branches

- Hajime Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Angst, swearing, vomiting,

- Summary: The sakura trees were coming up to bloom, and you could feel the creeping of branches throughout your chest, pulling at your lungs and winding around your heart.

—————

She's just so beautiful, I'd never stand a chance.

The petals stopped after a while. You were left a heaving mess, limbs bent at odd angles as you drooled into the porcelain bowl. Your eyes were glassy, refusing to focus on anything but the soft pink flowers dancing across the water’s surface. Your thoughts were muddled as you pulled yourself up, legs wobbling underneath your weight. This wasn’t normal - you mentally scolded yourself, this wasn’t just abnormal, this was unheard of. As much as you willed it to not be true, the creeping feeling that burned your chest and tore at your lungs told you that this was no dream. You replayed his words in your head over and over, tormenting yourself as you stared into the bathroom mirror. Of course he’d like her, she’s little miss perfect. Your reflection was sickening, red puffy eyes and burst blood vessels trailing up your neck. Death. That was the first word that came to mind as you traced the bruises smeared across your skin. Your gaze dropped to the jacket you’d wrapped around yourself in a desperate attempt for comfort and your chest tightened further. You played with the fraying sleeves, twisting the thread before pulling your eyes back up to the mirror, to your reflection. With shaking fingers, you turned the tap on. Cool water started pouring from the faucet as you cupped your hands beneath the stream. It was refreshing to feel the cold against your burning skin, nice to wash your mouth of the dizzying taste of petals. After a while, your skin had settled, your eyes less noticeably puffy and the tear tracks long gone after washing your face. Glancing at your watch you realised you’d been gone for an hour now, more than enough time for Oikawa to worry about you. You moved towards the door, legs still wobbling slightly.

You slowly pulled back the door to the gym, swapping your shoes over and stepping inside. The silence was deafening in a way, practise halting because you’d finally returned.

“Y/n! Where were you? Iwa-chan-“ Oikawa stopped in his tracks when he caught your eyes.

“Holy shit what happened?” He said as he rushed over to you, allowing the ball he was holding to fall to the floor aimlessly. You shrugged, trying to play it off as if everything were okay. But the second Oikawa caught sight of your bruises his face dropped.

“Who did this?” Iwaizumi was quiet, his voice barely above a whisper but the anger was almost palpable. You shook under his gaze, opting to look at Oikawa instead.

“I think I’m ill. I’ve been being sick.” The boys exchanged a look of disbelief so quickly you almost missed it. Almost.

“Well, you were in the gardens, so maybe you had an allergic reaction to something?” Your eyes widened at this, hoping Iwaizumi missed what Oikawa said, but they were so close to you that was impossible.

“You, you were in the gardens?” You swallowed, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t budge. Your mouth went dry, words failing you again.

“Yeah, she went looking for you.”

“Did-“ Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “- did you find me?”

Tentatively, you moved your gaze from Oikawa to Iwaizumi, eyes meeting his. You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes, threatening to spill as you rushed to wipe them away.

“N-no! I…” You wiped at your eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. “I just felt sick.” His hands wrapped around your wrists, and he brought them away from your face. He was bending over slightly to be eye level with you, his face so close to yours. You could hear the whispers echoing around the gym as he stared at you. Your heart was beating so fast you swore he would be able to hear it in the silent gym. Your face flushed as he moved closer, but Oikawa placed a hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed under the brunette’s touch.

“I’ll take her home, you go ahead and finish practice without me Iwa-chan.” With one final look at you, Iwaizumi relinquished and agreed, letting go of you and stepping backwards, drawing back up to his full height. Your skin was hot where he had held you, your body reacting to his touch.

The walk home was quiet, Oikawa not wanting to push you into talking. His hand was just barely grazing yours, every so often just glancing past as if he was trying to hold you but was too scared. Every time you felt his hand against yours, you nearly grabbed him in pure desperation, just wanting these feelings for Iwaizumi to disappear. But no matter how desperate for the affection you were, how much you craved the feeling of just being loved, you knew now that you could never be his, your heart was Iwa-chan’s, and the flowers blooming in your ribcage were proof of that. You lifted your head to look at the tall brunette beside you, but he was looking off into the distance. You cleared your throat, breaking the tension between the two of you as he snapped his gaze to meet yours.

“You didn’t have to walk me home, so thank you Toru.” He smiled softly, raising a hand to ruffle your hair.

“Yes I did, you look like death. I didn’t trust that you’d make it home alone safely.” A light blush crept up his cheeks as he held your gaze. His smile dropped suddenly, and he stopped walking. You paused a few steps ahead, turning to face him.

“What did Iwa-chan mean?” He was fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit he hadn’t shown since middle school.

“I don’t know-“

“Y/n. Please tell me.” His voice was strained, and he coughed to try and cover the wobble, but you could tell he was upset about something. He was avoiding your gaze now, eyes glued to the floor by your feet.

“When I went to the garden I…” You could feel the crawling again. Slowly at first, but soon you felt each and every branch push against your chest, curling around your heart and threading through your ribs. You struggled for breath, the petals beginning to fill your lungs again as you panicked.

“She… Aoi confessed, and Iwai…” You stopped, tears spilling from your eyes as you began gasping for breath again. You could taste it, the sickly sweet, almost perfume-like, taste of the petals clawed at your throat. You must have looked terrified because Oikawa had never moved so fast to hold you against his chest, cooing into your hair.

“It’s okay. I promise you it’s all going to be okay.” His voice was equally pained, and soon you felt what must have been his tears fall onto you.

As he held you in his arms whispering softly into your hair, as he cried for you, the flowers stopped moving. You could breathe again. The branches didn’t retreat like in the bathroom, but they loosened. Their vice-like grip lost in favour of a gentle entwining with your bones and muscles. You could feel the wood, heavy and thick, but you could breathe through it all as if the flowers had moved to allow your lungs to expand, and the petals had stopped flowering inside of you. You didn’t understand any of this, but if being held by Oikawa, at this moment right now, meant less pain then you would take it. You allowed yourself to fall into his embrace and cry. Your legs were almost too weak to support you as Oikawa wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from the outside world. He curled his body around yours, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his head into your hair as his own tears fell onto you. You remained like that for a while, allowing yourselves to cry on each other until both of you seemed to be out of tears.

“Thank you, Toru.” It was barely audible, your face buried deep in his shirt.

“You don’t need to thank me. God, I hate seeing you like this.” He replied, pulling away from you and looking into your eyes once more. His face was blotchy, skin red and pained from the tears, and his nose running. You knew you probably looked equally bad, worse even. But at that moment, you needed more, needed to feel something other than pain. So when he leant in, lips so close to yours, for once you didn’t pull away. He smiled down at you, placing a softer kiss against your forehead, and pulling away from you fully. He took your hand in his, pulling you along the street again towards your home.

The house was empty and silent, your father still at work which was usual for him. You had given Toru your keys, allowing him to open the door and invite you in as if he lived there. You smiled softly as he helped you take off your shoes and took your bag off your shoulder, placing it on the floor beside his own. He ushered you into the living room, sitting you down and fishing a blanket out of the storage cupboard for you. He turned the heating up, disappearing into the kitchen. You heard him turn the kettle on, some clinking of mugs and called out to him.

“You don’t have to do this you know…” There was no reply, he just reappeared a few minutes later with two cups of steaming coffee and some snacks tucked under his arm. He placed the cups carefully in front of you on the sofa, lazily threw the snacks on the table, pulled back the blanket around you, and sat beside you. He slung an arm around you carefully, leaning forwards to pass you the mug when you asked so nicely. His smile was back again, his eyes no longer watery and sad. Looking at you always made him smile. The evening passed quickly like this, the two of you just enjoying the other’s company and watching shit television wrapped in his arms. Then it all changed. He sat forwards, pulling his arm from around you and sitting upright.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you like me? Could you ever feel what you feel for Iwaizumi for me?” He stared at you, his gaze cold. Stunned, your mouth just opened and closed, your mind searching for an answer.

“I love you y/n. I can’t just stand here anymore and watch him hurt you. I want the world for you, I’d do anything to make you feel happy again.” You paused. Happy? When hadn’t you felt happy around Iwaizumi?

“I see you every day, pinning over him and falling even harder, but he never even notices. He just ignores you, and you deserve so much better.”

“Oikawa I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m telling you that I love you, that I can make you feel loved.” There it was his feelings finally fully out in the open. He wasn’t being coy, trying to joke about it like last time. He was baring his all for you.

“I… I’m not sure.” You moved to stand, wrapping the blanket around yourself.

“I need some time. I think you should go. Please.” He was quiet and still for a moment, before standing.

“Please don’t play with my feelings y/n.” He was calm as he left, slipping on his shoes, and bidding you farewell. You stood in the open doorway watching him leave. But your chest didn’t tighten like it did with Iwaizumi. Your lungs didn’t burn at the thought of never kissing him again. But, somehow, he stopped your pain, made the flowers stop growing. Maybe he was your chance at life, at surviving whatever this was. Maybe he could stem the growth, at least for a little while. Maybe Oikawa could save you from the deadly love you felt for Iwaizumi.

- Tags: @haikyuu-cafe @sassyglassesbunny @cuddlesslut @daphnxy @bakugouswh0r3 @playboygeniusphilanthropist

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hq #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi hajime #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #hanahaki

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hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

Someone Like You

I’m proud of this one so I hope you all like it! Flashbacks are in italics. Inspired by this dialogue prompt.

Summary: As a battle rages on around her, (Y/n) remembers all of the moments that lead her up to this point; glimpses at her life at Hogwarts and her complicated history with Neville Longbottom.

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Lestrange!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Blood, panic attacks

You could hear her laugh from across the battle. It was as if the maniacal sound that had haunted your dreams throughout your childhood was cutting through the sounds of the battle just to reach your ears. You felt yourself freeze. If you weren’t scared before, you were now. You looked around, desperately looking for the source of the laugh until your eyes landed on her. She stood about a hundred yards from you, atop a crumbling wall. She laughed as she flung spells at her foes, a green light emitting from her wand. As if sensing your eyes on her she looked up, her eyes locking on you. She smiled at you. It was your mother. Bellatrix Lestrange.

You paced outside of the transfiguration classroom. It was your third year and the first day of classes. You were late, only about two minutes late, but still late. You knew that once you opened the door, the whole room would turn to look at you. Attention was something you avoided like the plague. You tried your best to fly under the radar, though that was difficult with your last name. And it was made even more difficult when you had been sorted into Gryffindor.

As you paced you bumped into someone. You looked up, an apology on your lips, and were greeted by the wide eyes of none other than Neville Longbottom.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, offering him a quick smile. Neville was in your year and your house but he usually kept himself at a distance from you. Not that you blamed him. After what your mother had done to his parents, you would have hated you too. His eyes hardened, the usually nice and quiet boy putting up a cold demeanor.

“Move Lestrange,” he said as he pushed past you into the classroom. You ducked your head, your last name stinging like the insult that it was. You followed him in, letting the door shut behind you.

Your mother made her way across the battlefield towards you, her eyes never leaving your figure as she flung unspeakable curses at her enemies. You turned and began to run away as fast as you could.

You stood in line during your defense against the dark arts class, nervously staring at the cupboard in front of you. You watched as your classmates dispelled their bogarts and overcame their fears. You heard Professor Lupin call out words of encouragement as your peers succeeded in forcing the boggart back. You knew what your boggart would be and you weren’t excited to have to face it.

Neville was up next and you watched him curiously, expecting his boggart to be the same as yours. To your surprise, out of the cupboard jumped Snape, Neville shaking in his shoes. With some encouragement from Lupin, Neville was able to make his boggart burst and disappear. You smiled softly to yourself, silently proud of him.

Too soon it was your turn. You gulped nervously and clutched your wand in your shaking hand. As you stepped up to stand in front of the closet, your mother jumped out. She was laughing, her eyes boring into you. Your classmates went silent.

You tried to remind yourself that she wasn’t real but you were frozen. You stood there unmoving as she made her way towards you, flinging every insult imaginable your way. You heard Professor Lupin yelling to you, trying to make you snap back to reality, but his voice sounded far off. When she reached you she traced a scraggly fingernail across your chin. You felt hot tears begin to stream down your face as you lost the grip on your wand and heard it clatter to the floor. Suddenly, Professor Lupin had stepped in front of you, banishing the boggart himself. You felt yourself fall to your knees, sobs wracking through your body. Lupin helped you up and escorted you out of the classroom, away from the shocked faces of your classmates.

The battle raged on around you as you ran, desperately trying to get away from Bellatrix. You could hear her shout your name from behind you but you ignored it as you tried to push through the throng of people. You looked over your shoulder to see her gaining on you.

It was your fourth year and you were leaning against a pillar in the great hall. The Yule Ball was in full swing and all you could do was sit back and watch. Nobody had asked you and you didn’t have any friends to hang out with. No one wanted anything to do with a Lestrange.

You ran your hands down the front of your dress. It was a lovely shade of midnight blue and it flared off your hips in a way that made you feel like a princess. But no matter how beautiful you felt, it didn’t help to alleviate the pain of loneliness.

The Yule Ball was supposed to be fun but you were beginning to question why you had come. If standing alone in a corner wasn’t painful enough, watching Neville spin across the room with Ginny Weasley only intensified your pain.

You hated yourself for falling for the one boy you could never attain. Sure, everyone hated you, but it was nothing compared to the hatred that Neville felt. Every time he saw you he practically seethed. You served as a reminder of everything terrible that had happened to him.

But you couldn’t help but be enamored by his soft demeanor and kindness, not that you were on the receiving end of either. He was perfect and represented everything good in the world. You were a reminder of all that was evil in the world, even if you yourself were good. Because you were good, a fact that most of your peers refused to believe. You hated your mother and everything she stood for and you wanted nothing more than to stop the darkness that she represented. But no one would ever believe you. Not with the stain of your last name.

You choked back tears as you watched Neville smile at Ginny. He had never smiled at you before. You quickly pushed off the wall and darted towards the door, trying to hide your sobs.

You pushed past your allies as you tried to find a hiding spot. Your eyes scanned your surroundings, trying to find an escape. Her laugh sounded closer now and you were running out of time.

Fifth year you stood in the potions classroom, stirring the light pink potion in front of you. You kept your eyes downcast as you followed the recipe, trying not to anger your partner. You had been paired with Hermione for the assignment and she kept sending you glares every few moments. It was no secret that she didn’t like you. At times you thought you saw her glancing at your forearm, searching for a darkmark that wasn’t there. You stepped back when you finished the potion, nodding at her. She sniffed it once and her expression became confused.

It was amortentia, the strongest love potion on the planet. Usually, schools were banned from brewing it, but Slughorn had found a loophole. You and Hermione were the first to finish, so when Slughorn caught sight of your partner sniffing the potion, he clapped his hands together loudly.

“Alright, everyone! It appears we have our first finished potion,” he said, his voice booming across the classroom. Everyone’s eyes turned towards you.

“Miss Granger,” Slughorn said, “what is it that you smell?” Hermione recited her scents, new parchment, freshly grown grass, and spearmint toothpaste, and had a look on her face that let you know that she knew who she smelled. Slughorn smiled at her as she blushed.

“Now Miss (L/n)?” he prodded, expecting you to answer. You stepped forward nervously and took a whiff. A mixed aroma wafted into your nose and it sent you reeling. After a second you composed yourself and answered the professor.

“I smell my aunt’s perfume, and-” you hesitated, “the greenhouse and freshly tilled dirt.” You knew exactly who those sents reminded you of. You shot a quick glance at Neville to see him already looking at you with his arms crossed. His gaze was steely and you could sense the anger radiating off of him. You quickly averted your eyes, focusing on the praise that Slughorn gave you and Hermione.

When the bell rang you bolted out of the classroom as fast as you could, trying your best to avoid Neville and his dirt stained hands.

You jumped over a crumbling wall as you tried to escape her. You saw a flash of green light barely miss your shoulder and you turn to see your mother’s wand pointed at you, a sinister laugh escaping her lips.

You had found out about Dumbledore’s army through whispers in the common room. They were whispers that you were never intended to hear. You were purposely excluded from the plan, for reasons that you immediately understood, yet you still found yourself standing outside of the room of requirement. You wanted nothing more than to join and to prove that you were allegiant to the light. You knew that there was a good chance that they’d hex you as soon as you stepped through the door. The best case scenario was that they’d only turned you away. Despite this, you still pushed open the door. You were met immediately with the ends of several wands and angry glares.

“What are you doing here?” Harry questioned through gritted teeth.

“I- I want to help,” you said, “To join.”

“Yeah right, Lestrange,” Ron scoffed. You flinched at his words.

“You need to leave,” Ginny said defiantly.

“Please,” you murmured, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. You needed to be apart of this. You needed to prove to them and to yourself that you were not your mother’s daughter.

“I’m sorry but we don’t take too kindly to death eaters,” Harry spit out. You quickly yanked up your sleeve to reveal your blank arm. You heard a murmur ripple through the crowd. You hoped that the absence of a darkmark would be enough to prove to them that you were on their side.

“That proves nothing,” said a voice from your right. You turned to see Neville’s eyes boring into you. You deflated at his words.

“Please just let me prove-” you started, tears beginning to streak down your face.

“We said to leave,” Harry said, effectively cutting you off. You nodded, accepting that they would never believe you, and exited the room.

Your foot caught on a tree root and you tumbled to the ground. Your body collided with the hard courtyard floor and you groaned from the impact. Slowly you tried to get up, but your aching bones wouldn’t let you.

It was your sixth year and you sat in the common room alone. Everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade but you had stayed behind like always. You were working on a potions assignment when you heard a small croak from beside you. You looked down to see a frog on the cushion beside you. You smiled softly at it.

“Hello there,” you said with a smile. It let out a small ribbit in response. You gently picked up the frog and held it up to your face.

“Are lost?” you asked it. It remained silent. You simply sighed and placed it down on your lap, happy to have the company.

A few minutes later you hear quick footsteps rumble down the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.

“Trevor!” an all too familiar voice yells out, “Where are you!” You smiled softly at Neville’s shouts. His concern for his pet was adorable. When he hit the bottom of the stairs he scanned the room before his eyes landed on you. His hair was messy and he was still wearing his pajamas, letting you know that he had just woken up. You waved quickly as you lifted up Trevor, showing that you had him. Neville placed a hand over his chest and sighed with relief. He quickly made his way across the room to you and scooped up his frog.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly. You blushed at his words, surprised at their lack of animosity.

“You’re welcome,” you replied. At your words, Neville seemingly remembered who he was talking to. His body stiffened and he turned so Trevor was farther out of your reach.

“What were you doing with him,” he asked accusatorily. You blinked in surprise.

“Nothing, he just hopped over here and I thought I’d keep an eye on him,” you replied. He narrowed his eyes at you, his mistrust clear.

“Are you sure? You didn’t hex my innocent frog have you?” he asked.

“No of course not,” you answered with a chuckle.

“Because I wouldn’t put it past you,” he said, his voice icy. You tensed at his words. He continued to glare at you and you shrunk under his gaze.

“I’m not like her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “why won’t anyone believe me when I say that.” It was Neville’s turn to freeze. He looked at you, his mouth gaping open. As tears pooled in your eyes you almost thought that he looked sorry. You quickly gathered your things and left him standing alone in the common room.

You flipped onto your back and came face to face with your mother. She stood over you, a creepy grinned plastered across her face. Her wand was pointing at you threateningly.

“Did you miss me darling?” she asked with a smirk. You had no way to escape.

You sat at the end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. You were eating breakfast as the owls flew above your head, dropping off letters. You paid no mind to it, you never received any mail. You continued to eat your oatmeal when you heard Hermione gasp. You looked up to see her staring at the morning’s copy of the Prophet.

“What is it, Hermione?” Ron asks through a mouthful of toast.

“There’s been a massive breakout at Azkaban,” Hermione said. You felt your stomach drop.

“Bellatrix Lestrange escaped,” Hermione said, showing the cover of the newspaper to her friends. You dropped your spoon into your bowl and covered your mouth with your hand. The clanking of your utensil and the news of your mother’s escape caught the attention of your housemates. They all turned to stare at you. The room felt like it was spinning and you were gasping for air. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Hot tears quickly began to stream down your face as you tried to suppress a sob. You quickly got up and sprinted out of the hall.

You tried to scramble to get up, but it was no use. She had you cornered. She bent down and placed her wand under your chin.

“Now where should we start?” your mother asked. You gulped nervously.

“I’ve waited for this day for a long time,” she said in a sing-song voice, “always wondered what I’d do once I found my little traitor.” You turned to look away from Bellatrix, not able to bear the sight of her. With a flick of her wand, you were withering in pain.

You sat in the courtyard during your seventh year. Things weren’t going well and you were bracing yourself for a battle any day now. You tried your best to study but it was difficult when Theodore Nott was sauntering around. He marched his way over to a poor muggleborn fourth year who was sitting under a tree.

“Move it mudblood,” he said. You flinched at his use of the slur. The girl shook as she moved to get up. Theodore laughed at her as she dropped her books in a panic.

“Merlin, you filthy creatures are so stupid,” he said with a chuckle. You felt yourself stand up before you even knew what you were doing.

“Leave her alone,” you seethed. All eyes turned to you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Neville and Ginny staring at you with shocked expressions on their faces. Theodore turned towards you slowly.

“What was that?” he asked, his smile disappearing. “Did I just hear you defend a mudblood?”

“Don’t you dare call her that again,” you said, your voice unwavering.

“I expected better from you, Lestrange,” he said with mock disappointment. He pulled out his wand and you took a step back.

“You heard her,” a male voice yelled from your right, “Leave her alone.” You looked to the side to see Neville and Ginny moving towards you, their wands drawn. They sidled up on either side of you. You sent Neville a confused look but he simply sent you a small smile before turning back to Theodore.

Your mother threw curse after curse at you. With each spell, your pain only increased. You heard your self screaming, sobs ripping through your body. When she was finished with you, you could barely move. You could feel blood pooling under you and your breathing became labored. You had never felt this type of pain before.

“This is what you get for not listening to mummy,” Bellatrix said with a laugh. She spit on you, before turning and prancing away.

You laid on the cold cobblestone for what felt like hours. You waited for someone to find you, hoping that you’d be discovered before you succumbed to the sleep that was threatening to take you over. You struggled to keep your eyes open.

After a while, you heard footsteps approach and you prayed that it was an ally. Soon, Neville’s face came into view.

“(Y/n),” he said breathily, “what happened?”

“My mother,” you managed to choke out. He knelt down beside you and cradled your face in his arms.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he said, “I promise.” You smiled slightly and melted into his touch. Even in your current state he still had an effect on you.

“I swear to you I will save you. You’ll get through this,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked, struggling to speak. He wiped the dirt from your face.

“Because no one deserves to die like this,” he said.

“Even someone like me?” you let out weakly. Neville leaned down and lightly kissed your forehead.

“Especially someone like you.”

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom angst #neville longbottom fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter fic #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #battle of hogwarts

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Finding A Light // Final Part

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: New beginnings are made and the future is looking up for the two of you.

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of anxiety, mentions of food, fluff, kisses

A/N: Thank you for all the love you’ve given for this series! I had so much fun creating it and I’m so glad you all have enjoyed it!!

Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four

(not my gif)

1 Year Later

A dusting of powdery snow had been fluttering down from the sky, coating everything it could land on in a layer of sparkling white. Christmas was perhaps the most enchanting time of year at Hogwarts, the snow gathering on the grand castle paired with the lavish decorations creating a wonderland. Hogsmeade wasn’t any less enthralling, however, the glowing lanterns casting a warm glow on the cozy little village that was bustling with holiday cheer. Shimmering tinsel and garlands swirled around every lamppost, holiday cheer buzzing through the air from the bundled up students walking about. A rather large tree had stood tall at the center of it all, ornaments of varying shapes and sizes thoughtfully placed around the magically illuminated greenery.

It was hard to take your eyes off of, though Ron found it hard to take his eyes off of you.

You pulled your gaze away from the window, catching glimpse of the blue eyes not so secretly lingering on you. A smile tugged at your lips as Ron flushed a soft pink, looking to his side as he brushed the hair out of his face.

“I’m convinced you’ll never be discreet when you’re staring, Love,” you say with a laugh, watching as he turned his head to face you, so fast his hair fell back in his eyes.

“I was not staring!” He defends, too quick for it to be truthful, biting the inside of his cheek to refrain from smiling.

You tilt your head to the side as you narrow your eyes at him playfully and he looks down at his hands. “I felt your eyes on me the moment I looked away, Ron.”

He glanced up at you through ginger lashes and squinted for a moment, stirring his spoon around in his tea as he accepted his defeat. You smile triumphantly as you dipped your fork in his cake, taking a contented bite.

“Well, I’m convinced you love to pick on me,” he quips as he rests his chin in his palm, raising a brow at you while you laugh.

“I’d say you’re right.”

He frowns momentarily before you reach over the small table and tap your finger on the very tip of his nose. His smile was instant as he stole your fork, though really it had been his, taking a bite of his chocolate cake. Icing had inevitably accumulated at the corner of his mouth and now you had reason to kiss it off, you’d always wanted to for longer than you cared to admit.

When you pull away, a deeper blush stained his cheeks as he smiled down at his plate somewhat bashfully, pushing his dessert around as butterflies bounced around in his stomach. He’s quite sure you’ll have this affect on him for the rest of his life.

“So, uh, we’re having my family over for Christmas, yeah?” He asks, anything to redirect your attention to something other than how flustered you make him.

“Yeah! We need to head to Honeydukes and buy some sweets for everyone, your mother loved those chocolates we got the last time.”

He nods, watching you with a fluttering heart as you get excited about your plans for the following week. He feels he’ll never grow tired of admiring you, no matter how much you tease him for it. You just had a way of enchanting him more than any love spell he was put under in his teens. Perhaps it was the way you made it feel like he was the only one in the room when you talked to him. Maybe it was the way every kiss felt like the very first you shared that night on your doorstep, every touch setting his skin ablaze. In his love-clouded distraction, his eyes wander upwards, catching glimpse of the mistletoe Madam Puddifoot hung over the table. He’d been eying it ever since the two of you got there. The corners of his mouth immediately turned up as he beamed at you.

“What is it?” You question, raising your brow in amused curiosity as you trail off in your rambling about your holiday dinner plans.

He reaches up and jingles the mistletoe that dangles over your heads as an invitation, and he laughs softly. “I think this means you’ve got to kiss me now, Love.”

You laugh at his as you break his gaze momentarily to keep from flushing as red as the table cloth. But when you turn back to him his stare is much softer as he looks at you. Then you lean forward, lips pressing to his in a kiss tasting of chocolate cake and tea.

“How long have you known that was there?” You ask with a quiet laugh.

“If I told you only just now, would you kiss me again?”

You pretend to take his question into consideration, tapping your finger to your lips as you ponder. Though it wasn’t long before you pecked his lips once more, for kissing him was something that didn’t need second thought.

“We’d better get to the shop before everyone’s bought up all the good stuff,” you say, reluctantly pulling away from him and slipping on your coat with a sigh. Of course, all you really wanted to do was keep kissing him for the entirety of that day, but you suppose that could wait for later.

He nods in agreement as he slides on his flannel jacket, zipping it up before reaching for your hand in habit. The cold weather nipped against your skin the moment you left the tea shop, delicate flurries of snow immediately catching in your hair. Laughter rung out through the village as you walked along in a comfortable silence, enveloped hands swinging lightly between you.

His hand squeezes yours ever so slightly as he hums, keeping you close to his side as if to keep you from getting too cold. With the way he’d warmed your heart, you think it’s enough to protect you. You reach your other hand up to wrap around his arm, leaning up and kissing his cheek sweetly. You missed the way he smiled down at you, and you missed the puffs of air leaving his lips as he exhaled a breathy laugh. But he hadn’t missed the way you smiled at your feet and laughed a little.

“What?” He inquires in amusement.

“Nothing,” you shrug. “Just in love is all.”

1 Week Later

Ron had been rather groggy that morning, unwilling to release you from his grip as he burrowed his face deeper into the crook of your neck. The dull scent of your perfume still lingered there, doing a satisfactory job at grasping his attention. The rain trickled steadily down the chilled windowpanes one after another, the gloomy weather making it all the more enticing to stay tucked within the warmth of the bed with the love of your life but your plans for the day had insisted otherwise. It was the first time Ron’s family would be seeing your shared cottage.

It was a cozy little place nestled amongst others, though no two were ever alike. The moment you had found it, the decision was one that wasn’t hard to make. It was absolutely perfect for you both. Built from beige stone slabs and slate shingles, flowers littered the perimeter and sprouted in the lawn. A weathered white fence surrounded it, your address painted on it in metallic copper paint. Within it held layers of flannel blankets and bookshelves full of old books and framed pictures, mismatched furniture and unpolished candelabras with melted candles of varying heights. Enchanted clocks hang on the walls and the fireplace is almost always burning, casting a constant warm glow wherever it reached.

It was a culmination of you both and you were quite sure you could spend the rest of your life there with him. Well, to put it quite simply, he was. He didn’t even try to hide it at this point, too tired and too in love to.

“Love, we’ve got to get up now. Your family is coming over, you know,” you say softly, running your fingers through his tangled hair. A shiver runs across your skin as his fingertips trace invisible shapes along your hip, soon to be followed by quiet snores once again as his hand stills. “Ron!”

His arm tightens around your waist as he makes a failed attempt to lift his head and look at you, his nose brushing along the skin of your neck. He gave up his efforts with ease and kisses your jaw blindly, a quiet groan leaving his lips before he yawns.

“But sunshine, I don’t want to,” He mumbles in disagreement, tangling his legs with yours. “Five more minutes?”

You found it rather hard to ignore the gruffness of his voice as his words vibrate against your skin, a soft blush staining your cheeks that you were grateful he hadn’t been able to see. He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and you immediately curl against him despite the very obvious need to get out of bed. The warmth of his arms and softness of his kisses was just intoxicating enough for you to stay put for just a little longer.

“You said that an hour ago,” you giggle, the sound causing a sleepy grin to pull at his lips. You found yourself staring; at the way his nose curved upwards, at the remnants his smile on his pink lips, at the way his ginger lashes splay across the very tops of his cheeks. Even more distracting was the light smattering of freckles across his skin, each one cuter than the last. You had to bring yourself to look away before your gazing was noticed. “If we wait any longer they just might burst through the door.”

He turns his head to look at you, his eyes bouncing across every inch of your face as if to memorize every feature he loved so very much. You came into his life rather ungracefully and full of sweets, and you’ve taken up residence in his mind every single day since then. It seems only fair that he gazes at you without the need to be discreet at this point. Maybe he was also stalling to get you to stay in bed a bit longer too.

He protests the moment he felt you slip from his arms, brows knit together under utterly unruly ginger hair. You raise a brow at him as you cross your arms over your chest, watching as he sits up and pouts his lips ever so slightly in hint of what he’d so clearly been wanting.

It was next to impossible to resist it, though you did roll your eyes as you padded over to him and kissed him sweetly. He lingered over your lips as a soft smile pulled at his own, his nose brushing against yours. Though Ron Weasley was too predictable for you, a laugh leaving your lips as you spin away from him before he could pull you back down.

“See you downstairs,” You call over your shoulder. Ron sighs with a fond smile, rubbing his hands over his face before finding the energy to get out of bed for the day.

He met you downstairs still not having changed from his pajamas, which had only been a sweater and his underwear, his hair still the tangled mop it had been moments before. His lips press gently to your hair in greeting as he passes by you on the way to the coffee pot, smiling delightedly upon seeing it’s already been made and prepared just the way he likes.

“It’s only 9 o’clock in the morning, do we really have to start cooking dinner now, darling?” He grumbles over his steaming mug, peering at you over the rim.

You scoff incredulously, spinning on your heel to face him with narrowed eyes as you clutch a spatula in your hand. “I want it to be perfect, Ronald.”

He frowns at the use of his full name but it’s soon replaced in favor of a smile when you lean on your toes and kiss him, feeling as though maybe you’d been a bit too harsh. His lips tasted of coffee and the excessive amount of cream he likes in it, his eyes closing sleepily as he finds himself blindly chasing after you for another and another.

“Whatever you say,” he hums in content.

“Now if you would please help me, that would be great,” you say softly, kissing his forehead before moving to prepare for the afternoon ahead.

—

Dinner and dessert was made successfully in perfect timing, though the most help Ron had offered wasn’t very much help at all, constantly stealing food and insisting he was just testing it. The table was set with your best plates and silverware, though the extra chairs you had pulled in to accommodate the large family were mismatched. Everything was cleaned and bookshelves were dusted, the sweetest of your candles were lit and you had on your best clothes.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be just fine. They’ll love it,” Ron laughs softly, grabbing your hands and stopping your nervous pacing. “They love you.”

His words paired with the look he’d been giving you was enough to settle your nerves for the time being. He looked rather cute; dressed in the slacks he used for teaching, a button-up and an adorable sweater vest to go over top. His hair had since been brushed out though with the lengths it’s become, it’s hard to be anything but messy.

You nod lightly as you fumble with his tie, and he could tell you still hadn’t been assured so he settled for kissing your forehead.

The sound of car doors had soon interrupted your moment, and upon a closer look you saw a cluster of red hair and colorful knit scarves rushing through the front gate. Ron smile warmly at you as the doorbell rang, releasing your hand to open the door.

Mrs. Weasley gasped immediately upon stepping through the house, arms open widely and pulling the two of you into a very tight hug as Arthur and Charlie follow in close behind her with armfuls of housewarming gifts.

“Oh it’s so much more beautiful than you described, Ron!” She pinched his cheeks cheerfully much to his dismay as the tips of his ears turn cherry red, his face soon matching it before she turns to kiss your cheeks. “It’s absolutely wonderful, my dear.”

You smile brightly as a blush coats your cheeks.

“Yeah, Ronniekins! I’m sure Y/n did all the decorating,” George teases, Ron quickly narrowing his eyes at him.

Bill instantly stops him before a harmless jinx could leave his mouth by sputtering out a greeting. He pulls you in for a hug and a kiss to the top of your head. “Easy, Ron, we don’t need anymore blue hair mishaps.”

Bill’s tone is light as he ruffles his brothers hair, not helping any with Ron’s grumbling.

“Ronniekins,” you coo, pinching his cheek much softer than his mother as you tease him with a scrunched nose and soft laugh. He mimicked your expression as he shakes his head, nose brushing against yours.

“Not you too!” He whines, knowing full well you’d never pass up an opportunity to tease him.

You were soon whisked away by Ginny, however, who had been dying to sit with you at dinner ever since she’d been made aware of the plans. Ron had flashed a frown when George swoops in And takes the seat to your left, though it’s only playful. Maybe he missed you a bit too. He barely got two words in before every dug in to the food before them, so he gave up completely and soon found himself with a mountains worth of dinner on his own plate.

Fred’s absence hadn’t gone unnoticed nor did the brief moment where conversation had paused, save for the clinking of silverware. But it wasn’t quite as upsetting as the last time you recall, more bittersweet and fond though he was still missed dearly.

“Your cooking is wonderful, Y/n,” Percy compliments at the other end of the table, a chorus of muffled agreements sounding after him.

“Thank you, Percy. I’m so glad you could make it,” you say as you smile warmly, the family’s assurance dissolving any last bit of worry you had.

You had no reason to be nervous in the first place, they had cherished you just as much as you did them. Regardless, it brightened your mood to know that they had approved of everything you had done to make everything perfect.

Conversation was easily swept away from that point on. Molly spoke of Arthur’s achievements as work, to which he tried to play it down with rosy cheeks but of course she would not have any such thing. In turn, you spoke of Ron’s and he flushed redder than his hair as he smiled down at his plate. Though he nearly choked on his bread when you decided to mention the fact that a students boggart had also been spiders, an embarrassing moment he’d be perfectly happy with stuffing away forever and ever. He knew you wouldn’t let it go and he nudged you under the table as you giggled softly.

Charlie spoke extensively about a new species of dragons he’d gotten the opportunity to tend to. Everyone nearly rolled their eyes at his long winded conversation about the different types of dragon scales and what they each mean.

Bill talked of his travels and the countries he’s been able to see, though he couldn’t go too long without the mention of Fluer. He was head over heels for her and it was rather endearing to see the way his face lit up upon every mention of his lover. You immediately knew where Ron had gotten it from.

George had pulled your focus away to talk about his shop, and to more secretly discuss his newest prank up his sleeve for the next time the two of you come to the Burrow. He also made several comments on how much he loved dessert, and how Fred would have loved everything even more. He even brought you a few trinkets from the shop that he knew you’d appreciate, gifting them to you with a ruffle of your hair and a thanks for taking care of his little brother.

And perhaps the most enthralling conversation was the one you had with Ginny, who’d waited till steady conversation was had before she broke off to speak of things long overdue. She gushed about Harry and his endeavors, a pink blush on her cheeks as she thought of her lover fondly. She mentioned the gift she’d suspected he’d gotten her for Christmas, and the one she’d gotten him. She talked of quidditch and how she’d advanced her team in the professional tournament, allowing them to take the trip across the world. She was so happy and excited that you let her take over the conversation, a smile on your lips as she did.

It was an eventful dinner, a dull moment never arising, not that you had expected it to. Everyone had since moved to the living room, taking up couches and loveseats and recliners to continue the chats they had started at the table. The fireplace was roaring and the candelabras had been lit, Molly even started the record player. Inevitably, she asked Arthur to dance but he didn’t put up much of a fuss about it.

It was wonderful and it was everything you’d hoped it to be.

A moment alone had finally been managed amongst the joyful chaos of the Weasley’s, Ron’s arms encircling your waist in a long awaited embrace as his lips press to your cheek in a tender kiss. You smile as his nose brushes along your flushed skin, and soon he was grinning against the corner of your mouth as he laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?” You ask with a laugh of your own, pulling back to look at him curiously. You run your thumb across his cheek and his eyes crinkle with his growing smile.

The orange glow of the sunset peeking through fading rain clouds had filtered in through the kitchen window, shimmering warmly in his matching hair and illuminating the adoring look dancing in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and he takes a moment or two to ponder his response.

“Nothing,” he murmurs in the close proximity, dipping down to kiss you delicately before lingering there, his warm breath on your lips before repeating the words you’d spoken just a week prior. “Just in love is all.”

Your hand moves to settle on his cheek as you lean up and kiss him sweetly, and he pulls you impossibly closer as he hums against your lips. His cheeks were flushed a pale crimson when you part, a soft smile on his face.

“Is that so?” You ask quietly, still inches from his lips when you brush the hair out of his eyes before resting your hands on his chest.

He tucks your hair behind your ear as you gaze up at him, his lips pink and kiss swollen and waiting for more. He nods without hesitation and your smile widens a fraction. “Yeah, it is.”

You beam at him, leaning up on your toes and hugging him tightly, so much so he stumbles back a bit. But it doesn’t matter, because the way you’re holding him seems to be pulling all his broken pieces together. Though it seems as though he’d been mended since the very first time he met you.

He smiles brightly as he closes his eyes, your head resting on his shoulder as he thinks about it. The laughter of his family filtering in from the next room over. The heat in his cheeks whenever you kiss him, whenever you look at him. The sweet smell of your perfume lingering just under his nose. The very kitchen you stood in, in the very place you’ve come to call your home. Each and every one of those things crossed his mind in that moment and he found himself unable to think of anything else but that. Nothing else but you.

“I love you, Ron Weasley.”

Amongst the darkness that once enveloped his life, Ron Weasley finally found his light.

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime @n3ssm0nique @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley series #ron weasley angst #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine #harry potter fic

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