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violentdelightsandviolentends · 6 months

Text

I Know Places.

Synopsis - Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Female Reader (Callsign - Ivy) - Bonnie&Clyde inspired au

Warnings - cursing. very near SA. mentions of abuse/assault. mentions of blood, gunshots and violence. mentions of suicide. please, do not read if any of these warnings will affect you.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.1k

Author's Note - i'm not sure what happened, because this was really fluffy in my head. it ended up kind of dark, but i'm rolling with it. i like writing a different side of jake. just in time for halloween too. this was written for @laracrofted 1989TGM celebration!! <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You stand with your hand on my waistline

It's a scene, and we're out here in plain sight

I can hear them whisper as we pass by

It's a bad sign, bad sign

Jake's always had impeccable timing.

He'd tell you, later, that he sensed it. Just knew. Felt it in his gut, some sort of warning from the universe. He had to get to you.

The Admiral has you half bent over the desk in his office, fingers twisted into your underwear. He's trying to pull them down your legs when the door swings open.

You're paralysed, frozen with fear. The look on your face must tell Jake enough. He gets the message, understands your silent communication.

The Admiral stops. Backs away. As if putting distance between you will erase what he's been caught doing. Trying to do.

You expect Jake to yell, fight, throw The Admiral across the room by his collar. You expect blood, bruises, broken skin and bared teeth.

All you're met with is silence.

Jake strides across the room towards you. Fixes your clothes, smooths down your hair. Wipes the tears from your cheeks. He snakes a hand around your waist and guides you out of the door. Not a word said.

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

"He'll ruin my career."

You're tucked into Jake's lap, legs slung over his hips as he holds you close. His rough fingertips run themselves up and down your spine, comforting and gentle. You inhale his musk, letting the familiarity fill your lungs.

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby."

"That won't matter."

The two of you are whispering, hushed voices bouncing off the furniture. You're alone together in Jake's living room. There's no one else around. You think he's scared he'll spook you. You're right.

"I worked so hard for this, Jake. I sacrificed everything to get into Top Gun."

"I know, baby."

"I can't lose it all."

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back from your eyes.

"What do you want to do? Report him?"

"Jake, you're not listening to me. He'll ruin my career."

"But he's the guilty one. Not you."

"Yeah, well. This is the way it works. Men can assault you and still play the victim."

You're frustrated, now. There's something bubbling, running through your veins. You can't put your finger on it. It feels like more than rage. Whatever it is, it's lethal.

You climb off Jake's lap and stand, pacing across the carpet.

"What am I supposed to do?" you murmur, tears threatening to spill.

Jake can't stand the wobble in your voice. It tightens something in his chest, pulls at his heartstrings. He was furious, before. He's just sad now.

"I'll do anything you ask," he tells you, standing up to cradle your face in his hands. "Anything in the world."

"I know."

And you do. That's what it's like, being with Jake. He loves so entirely, with his whole being. Every fibre of his heart belongs to you. It beats to the rhythm of your name.

"Just tell me what you wanna do, baby. I'm on your side. No matter what."

You lean up to kiss him, his lips soft and careful against yours.

"I'm not sure, yet. When I know, you'll know."

Jake sits back down on the couch, pulling you with him. You tuck yourself into his side, fitting there perfectly. He slings an arm around your waist and keeps you close, holding you a little tighter than usual.

Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes

And guns

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

"We should kill him."

You're strewn across Jake's chest, tangled in the sheets. Your limbs and hearts are intertwined, bodies drenched in sweat and lungs heaving.

"What?"

You sit up, pulling the comforter up and over your body slightly to combat the chill of the ocean breeze that's filtering through the open window.

"Let's kill him."

You look over to your boyfriend, waiting for the punchline. It never comes.

"Jake."

He turns to you, the most serious you've ever seen him. There's a look in his eye you've never seen before. It's dark. You're vaguely aware you should probably feel fear - but all you feel is anticipation.

"How many girls do you think he's done this to before you? How many will come after?"

You swallow, biting at your lips.

"He needs to be stopped, baby. You and I both know they won't fire him. He needs to be taken out of the equation altogether."

You realise, suddenly, that the thing you're worried about isn't the morality of the situation. It's the logistics. You don't want to get caught.

"Do you think we're smart enough to get away with murder?"

"Baby," he drawls, brushing his knuckles over your cheekbone. "We're a hell of a lot smarter than people give us credit for."

You know he's right. People underestimate both you and Jake. Everyone assumes he's nothing but a pretty face and toned muscles. That you're just his pilot girlfriend, seduced by his Southern charm and the fact that he's good in bed.

It seems like a challenge, now. You want to do this. You want to see if you can get away with it. You're already on the precipice of losing everything - why not go out with a bang?

"How would we do it?" you ask, leaning in closer to the blonde man next to you.

He thinks for a moment, running his fingers up and down your bare thighs.

"I say we make it look like a suicide. Shoot him in the head and frame it so it looks self inflicted."

You nod, processing.

"I think we should hold him at gunpoint first. Get him to write a confession, some sort of letter. That way, there's no confusion as to what happened."

"You're a genius," Jake grins, dipping down to kiss you.

He slips his tongue into your mouth effortlessly, sighing when he tastes himself from earlier. You straddle his waist and tangle your fingers into his hair, desperate to be close to him.

Both of you are high on adrenaline, buzzed on the anticipation of what's to come.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

Murder isn't as hard as you thought it'd be.

Careful planning. Airtight alibis. Reassurance and recon.

You and Jake have created the perfect crime.

The two of you show up to The Admiral's office on an evening you know he'll be working late. He's doing paperwork when you arrive.

You walk in first. Jake follows, and locks the door behind him.

The Admiral goes to speak, but you silence him with a handgun pointed at his chest.

"Speak, and you die."

He doesn't say another word.

Jake takes the gun from your hand and walks around the desk, pressing it into his superiors temple.

"We need a couple of things from you," he begins. "Just a favour or two."

The Admiral is sweating, pale and rigid. He looks scared. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you. You're enjoying this. Jake is too, judging by the beaming grin on his face.

"Grab a pen, and some paper. We're about to do some creative writing."

Jake orchestrates the letter. Gets him to write exactly what you need. Notes down the brutality, the arrogance, the abuse of power. He makes him recount every incident, not just yours. You're there for what feels like hours, as his shaky hands move the pen across the paper.

Finally, he finishes. Dots the I's and crosses the T's. Jake chuckles.

"Wonderful. And for the last part of this joyous evening were having together, my girlfriend is gonna shoot you."

The Admiral chokes on his breath. Looks to you with fear in his eyes. Finally, you think. He understands how it felt.

He goes to open his mouth, but you stop him.

"Don't beg. Don't plead. It's pathetic."

"We made up our mind weeks ago," Jake adds. "You're not going to deter us now."

You smile at your boyfriend, giddy over the way he's protecting you, saving you, loving you.

"I'm going to enjoy this," you whisper.

You take the gun from Jake and press it to The Admiral's temple. You know the silencer will muffle the noise - you really have thought of everything.

You click off the safety, and lean down so your mouth is next to his ear.

"This is for all of the women you hurt."

You pull the trigger.

He dies instantly.

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

In another life, you and Jake could have been actors.

You're all called into the briefing room the next day, gathered together in confusion.

Admiral Simpson stands in front of your class - pale as a sheet, dark circles bruised under his eyes.

"There's been a situation, and we want you to hear it from us," he begins. "I ask that you all keep this to yourselves, where possible. Don't talk to any media, don't gossip, don't spread rumours. Understood?"

When you all nod, he continues.

"The Admiral is dead."

The room goes silent. Jake's hand finds yours under the table. To anyone on the outside, it looks like a boyfriend supporting his girlfriend. To you, it's something different.

It feels like time stands still. The world stops turning, suspending you in the present moment. Eventually, Rooster speaks.

"What happened?"

Beau clears his throat, swiping his hand over his face.

"He took his own life."

There are whispers now, hushed and clipped. Everyone is in a state of shock and confusion. Everyone, except for you and the blonde man next to you. He squeezes your hand tightly, refusing to let go.

"Of course, there will be an investigation. But, it seems pretty obvious to us what happened. If anyone in this room has been effected by the actions of The Admiral that have come to light... please, speak to me, or any other of your superiors. Thank you. "

He exits the room, leaving all of you in palpable silence.

"What the fuck?" Payback mutters. "What did he mean, 'actions that have come to light?'"

"There's rumours," Phoenix begins. "He had a... soft spot, for young female pilots. People have been whispering about it for months."

Suddenly, all eyes are on you. You're the only other woman in the room besides Natasha, and she clearly wasn't involved.

"Did he ever... try anything with you, Ivy?"

"No," you're quick to answer. "No. Thank God."

The room breathes a collective sigh of relief.

If only they knew.

they take their shots, but we're bulletproof I know places

and you know for me, it's always you I know places

in the dead of night, your eyes so green I know places

and I know for you, it's always me I know places

A month later, you snap.

Jake comes home to find you frantically shoving clothes into a duffel bag, sweat dripping down your back.

"Baby," he tries, cautious, like he's approaching a spooked animal. "Baby."

You turn to face him with wild eyes, fear radiating off you.

"What's wrong, angel?"

You look at him incredulously.

"What's wrong? What's fucking wrong? We killed someone, Jake! That's what's wrong!"

"He wasn't a good guy."

"That doesn't matter. That doesn't make it right."

He cradles your face in his hands, eyes never leaving yours.

"Talk to me. What's going on? You've been okay. We've been okay. I thought we were processing, moving forward."

"I was. And then today, I just... can't. It was murder, Jake. Premeditated murder."

"Listen to me," he demands, tilting your chin up so your eyes are level. "He was an awful, awful man. The world is a better place without him. We saved so many women from a horrible fate, baby. We did a good thing."

You inhale carefully, and exhale a shaky breath, leaning up to press a kiss to his bitten lips.

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. "We did save people, didn't we?"

"We wouldn't have done it without just reason, baby. We're good people, you and I. We both know we are."

You nod, looking for any signs of insecurity in his eyes. You don't find a single speck.

"You're right. Fuck, you're right. Sorry if I scared you, Jake."

"You scared me because I thought you were leaving me," he chuckles. "Wondered what I did wrong."

"Nothing," you're quick to reassure, tangling tracing your fingertips over the features of his face in a featherlight touch. "My God, Jake. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. You're it for me. You're my forever."

Jake leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly and surely. It's as if he's telling you everything he feels without using any words. He pulls you into him, winding his arms around your back and tugging you closer.

"I've got you, baby. No matter what happens. It's me and you, always. I love you."

"I love you too, Seresin. Always."

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

My love

"Let's run away."

You're taking off your shoes by the door when Jake comes bounding down the stairs, buzzing with energy.

"Hmm?"

"Let's run away, baby. You and me. The open road. We can go anywhere we want."

"Jake," you laugh. "Are you drunk? What's happening?"

"Not drunk. My head's clearer than it has ever been. I've been thinking, while you were gone."

"Thinking about...?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his rosy lips.

"Getting out of here. This place is full of bad memories and old ghosts. We can start afresh somewhere new."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere. Literally anywhere. We don't even have to stay in America. We could go to Europe, Australia, Canada? The possibilities are actually endless."

"What's triggered this?" you murmur. "You okay?"

"I'm always okay when I'm with you," he smiles. "But.... I can just feel it, you know? I can feel everything piling up. There's a weight on my shoulders, and on yours too. We can let that go. I know we can."

"You're right, about the weight. I haven't relaxed in months."

Jake slides his hands under your shirt, tracing his fingers up and down the bare skin of your back.

"I know," he murmurs against your lips. "I think there's something better out there for us."

"Where would we go? Like, serious talk, what are our options?"

"I know places," he winks.

"What places, Jake?" you try to chide, but you're smiling.

"We can go to my mom's, first, in Texas. Just to touch base. From there, I mean it when I say literally anywhere, baby. Wherever you wanna go, we can go. You've always wanted to go to Italy, right? We could go there. Or I have a high school friend in Perth - we could go there."

"I wanna go somewhere with good food. Kind people. Beautiful views. A little sunshine wouldn't hurt either."

He's grinning at you, white and blinding. His excitement is contagious, settling into your bones.

"Imagine it, baby. Me and you, on the beach all day. We could surf, swim, go grab some lunch, then surf and swim some more. Go home, make dinner, sit out in the yard and listen to the ocean waves. Do it all again the next day."

You can't wipe the smile off your face, practically bouncing on the soles of your feet.

"Okay."

Jake stops in his tracks, still and rigid.

"Really?"

"Really. We can go right now, Jake. I don't wanna be here any longer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Fuck, I love you. Let's pack our shit and go, baby."

Jake kisses you with fervour, dipping you backwards like you're in a movie. You squeal, gripping the nape of his neck for balance. He picks you up and spins you around, twirling you like a fairytale.

"What about everyone here?" you ask, forehead pressed to Jake's.

"We'll miss them, and they'll miss us, but we'll all be okay."

He's right. These people are your family, but they'll understand. You have to do what's best for you.

"Do you really wanna go as soon as we can?"

"Yeah, Jake. I meant it. We can start packing right now."

He wraps his arms around your middle and carries you upstairs, throwing the closet doors open while you grab your suitcase.

Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I, I know places we can hide

I know places

The sun beats down on your skin, warming you up from the outside in. There's a breeze whipping through your hair, carrying salt from the ocean into the car. The sunroof is down, allowing you to breathe in the fresh air.

Jake's hand slides across the centre console and onto your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into your bare skin.

"You okay?"

He's looking over at you, taking his eyes off the road for a split second.

"I'm good, baby."

He smiles, the grin reaching every feature of his face, lighting him up.

You've been on the road for months, stopping and starting however and whenever you please. A motel here, a beach apartment there. You've lost count of how many states you've travelled through, collecting postcards in each one.

You'll settle down, eventually. You've been making a list of your favourite places you've visited, ranking them as you go. You'll most likely buy a place in your top choice. But not yet.

For now, you're content with the open road. The convertible car, all your belongings in a suitcase in the trunk, roof down at every opportunity. You like not staying in one place for too long. It weirdly suits you.

Jake's never looked happier. He glows, smile lines creasing the corner of his eyes. He laughs so often, and you never get tired of the sound.

You glance down to the golden band on your left hand, smiling softly.

"What are you thinking about?" your husband asks, squeezing your thigh.

"Vegas," you beam. "Never did I think I'd be married by an Elvis impersonator in a bright blue chapel."

"I'm the epitome of class, baby. You know this."

Both of you are grinning, chuckling gently.

"We did the right thing. Leaving."

"Yeah, we did. I'm glad I believed what you said."

"What did I say?"

"That you knew places."

He traces a love heart on your skin with his thumb, over and over again.

"Told you, baby. I know places."

507 notes · View notes

therhythmafterthesummer · 7 months

Note

IBDIJEUIDJBEYAI

I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT!!

Kitten surprising Min with her old school uniform and a lil role play. His mind is racing from the skirt and the memories and he can like touch her how he always imagined her

-🥝

you're so absolutely right, kiwi. this was a humongous brain moment.

i've had this ask in my inbox since mid-august bc i just had to write something I HAD TO since it stirred something within me. thankfully, i recently figured out how i wanted to go about this, and finally got to writing it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any of the other instalments to understand this one, although it's highly recommended!). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · role-playing as high schoolers (disclaimer: they’re both consenting adults fulfilling fantasies of their past, neither are genuinely attracted to minors in any way) · nipple play · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is on birth control] · a smidge of a breeding kink · cumshot · barely proof-read as it usually is with these “drabbles”...

minors do not interact.

“Min–Minho…”

Oh, how sweet you sounded when you said his name like that… It was just how he’d dreamt it’d be. He’d heard you before, of course. But not in this situation, in this particular setting…

“My dad could be home anytime now–Oh, shit…” Your words got caught in your throat the second he bit one of your nipples. How could he not, when you were on his lap, with your uniform shirt open, and your bra just down enough for him to play with your chest.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, kitten”, Minho mumbled against the swell of your breast, leaving a love bite that he hoped would be visible when you wore one of your low tops. “If he were to come home, you know he doesn’t bother us when we’re doing our homework…”

You whined as soon as his mouth reattached to your nipple, as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and index finger… Your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close while you rolled your hips to find some friction against his crotch. The pressure had his mouth salivating further, borderline drooling all over your nipple like the dog he’d recently become.

Or, at least, in this fantasy, he had probably been turned a few years prior…

When you and Minho had come to your father’s house today to help him clean up some of your old stuff from your childhood room, Minho certainly hadn’t expected for the afternoon to take him right here. To him sitting on the edge of your bed, dressed in his school uniform, with you sitting on his lap, and dressed in your school uniform.

It had been such an impromptu thing… You found the pieces of clothing at the bottom of your dresser, forgotten from the last time you wore them in your final year. Back then, you always kept a spare change of Minho’s uniform for those nights when he unexpectedly stayed over.

‘Ohhhh, you should put it on. I used to love how the uniform looked on you’, you’d told him as you handed him the dress shirt with the school’s logo on it, and the white vest top he used to wear under it.

‘Alright, but only if you put on yours. The whole thing. I also loved how you looked in that uniform’, he’d told you immediately, because it was the truth. That plaid skirt and the white button-up used to make stellar appearances in his teenage-hormones-driven wet dreams.

He used to feel embarrassed about it. You were his best friend in this world, and the fact that he found himself daydreaming of how it’d look like if he took a peek under your skirt, or how it’d feel if he buried his face in your cleavage, certainly made him feel guilty.

Now, as an adult well into his twenties, after you both shared your affections, he no longer felt as guilty about it. Especially after learning that you yourself had those thoughts about him back then, too.

When you put on that uniform shy of fifteen minutes ago, Minho was reminded of all those thoughts he used to have, of all the sleepless nights and hidden chubs at school… It hit him then that maybe this was exactly why he loved seeing you in skirts so much in present day. A result of his teenage-self’s never fulfilled desires.

Sure, he couldn’t button his shirt since his shoulders and arms had broadened with age, and your skirt was certainly much shorter than it used to be, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into your roles.

‘Mmm… It’s almost like we have just come back from school and are getting ready to get some work done’, you chuckled as you looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your thigh high socks.

That sentence alone lit up the bulb in his head, it sparked a naughty little idea that he knew you’d either entertain or laugh about. Either result was fine by him, so he had no qualms when he walked behind you, and looked at you through the mirror.

Calling your name as he placed his hands on your waist, Minho had asked you to turn around to face him. ‘There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long… Please don’t be mad…’

Minho feigned nervousness, like he was once again that boy that had seemingly unrequited feelings for his best friend.

‘I really, really like you… Can’t stop thinking about you. How’d it be like to kiss you, to feel you close in ways other than platonic. You’re my best friend, and I cherish that deeply, but I just… I like you so much’, funny thing, how those were pretty much the same words he’d wanted to say to you back then. Words he had practised in front of the mirror a few times, but he was always too much of a coward to actually tell you.

You looked at him in what Minho figured was feigned shock. Oh, how he loved you… You just knew him so well, and knew exactly what he was doing without saying a single word. ‘I… I like you, too. Have liked you for so long, Minho…’

Minho had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you as if he’d never done it before, desperately, hungrily, no time for being tender and soft when all he’d wanted was to devour you whole. And you had retaliated, of course. You’d pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and pressed your chest to his, kissing him with fervour.

‘Even if I’m… If I’m now…’ A beast, was what he wanted to say as he spoke between kisses. Minho had maybe fallen a little too well into this role of his younger self. He could still remember how insecure he used to be about his condition, how he looked down on himself after being infected with this goddamn lycanthropy… Those were feelings that no longer existed within him, he had now long since accepted this was part of him. If anything, with time, he’d embraced it.

‘I’d like you even if… Even if you were a worm’, you replied simply, making him giggle, which in turn made you giggle.

Minho scooped you into his arms after that, and he walked the remaining steps to your childhood bed so he could sit on it with you on his lap. In no time, he was groping you over your shirt, under your skirt, and you had started to beg for him to touch you more.

His instincts were stunted, you knew that, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have this animal side to him. Sometimes, especially when he was horny, that animalistic side of him took over his logical mind, and, back when he was a teen, he could recall having a harder time with certain feelings and emotions like these. So, he let them cloud his reason a bit as he fulfilled this little fantasy of his…

Minho ripped your shirt open, the buttons flew all over your room, and you gasped when he buried his head between your breasts. The thing was also a bit too tight on you, so he was sure you wouldn’t miss the garment if it got ripped a bit in the process.

You scrambled to take a hold of his hands, bringing them to your chest so he could fondle you over your bra, once again begging him to touch you. To ‘Please, please, Minho, touch me. I need it. I need you…’

And he was sure his cock was about to pop out of his jeans with how hard it got at your desperation.

So here you were, grinding into each other, on your childhood bed while Minho feasted on your tits.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. Harder. Do it harder…”

How could he deny you when you sounded so needy? When he’d wanted to do this for so long?

He bit harder, pinched harder, pulling strangled sounds of pleasure out of your lips. The more attention he gave to your chest, the more you rolled your hips against him, effectively pulling sounds of pleasure out of his lips.

His senses were flooded by you. The smell of your arousal on your lavender scent, your weight of him, the taste of your skin on his tongue, all combined had him almost delirious, especially when his free hand found its way under that godforsaken skirt of yours to tightly grope one of your buttocks.

“Baby, I think I’m… I might…”

Fuck, if you came just from him playing with your chest and you grinding your cunt on the tent in his jeans, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself. Although, he supposed coming in his underwear would’ve been a very accurate representation of what would’ve happened if his teenage self had ever had the opportunity to have you on him like this…

Minho couldn’t help but groan when you tightened your grip on his hair, when you started to roll your hips faster, harder… God, all he wanted right now was for the girl of his dreams to come, he needed to feel you trembling in his hold, to drown in your scent so he could convince himself this was happening.

Seeing you come, holding you tight while you did, was just absolutely delightful. You bit on your fist to keep your moans contained, while your whole body shook with your release.

Minho had to make the conscious effort not to blow right then and there. He was sure that if this had happened back when you were still that young, he would’ve certainly done so. He imagined that this would’ve probably been your first sexual experience together, that you’d laugh about how he soiled his underwear and how needy you’d been, before you laid down and cuddled for a bit…

Maybe you would’ve had sex a different time, on a different day where you were sure your dad wouldn’t come back home… But this wasn’t about being fully realistic, this was about having fun while fulfilling a shared fantasy.

“Fuck, Minho, baby, stop… I’m sore…”

Minho finally pulled himself away from your chest, mumbling a very unconvincing ‘Sorry’ before he attached his lips to the pulse point on your neck, relishing how fast your blood was pumping in your veins.

“You’re so fucking hot, my kitten. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, y’know?” He mumbled in your ear, taking one of your breasts in his hand to fondle the flesh, with special care to not stimulate your nipple too much.

“Me too, baby…” You were still trembling occasionally within his arms, taking deep breaths to get your racing heart to slow down inside your chest. “I’ve wanted this so bad… Even… Even touched myself thinking about it”.

“Mmm, fuck…” Minho started sucking love bites on your neck, following this faint need in his gut to leave his mark on you. “Have you?”

“I have… Sometimes, I did it while we slept in the same room”.

Minho wasn’t sure if this was you playing your fantasy, or if this was a real thing that happened, but, being honest, it didn’t matter. It made his mind disconnect completely as soon as the words came out of your mouth regardless.

Before he could even register it himself, he had stood up and thrown you on the bed, eliciting a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. In a second, he was on you, kissing you hard, messily, even desperately. Your limbs wrapped around him, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, bringing him further down to lay flush against you in your heated kiss.

He was dizzy, lightheaded, and for a second, he almost believed he was in the past, that he was making out with you on your bed after school, that he was about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

“Fuck, I need to put it in…” Minho barely detached his lips from yours while he spoke, just kept messily kissing you between words as he ground his hips to your core. “Please, please let me put it in… Need you…”

“We–we need a condom, Min”, your hands found their way under his top, where they settled to caress his back, making him shiver. “I don’t have any here”.

“Fuck, I don’t have any, either”, Minho left your lips to instead attach his own to your collarbones, to nibble on the sensitive skin, making you whine. “I’ll pull out. I got quick reflexes, it’ll be fine, please…”

He certainly was playing into this horny-teenage-boy thing all too well. Although, he was sure his younger self wouldn’t have been this stupid to believe just ‘pulling out’ would be an effective contraceptive, and surely neither would you. After all, back then, your dad made sure you both knew about being safe, which Minho was grateful for to this day.

Regardless, the very real implant you had in your arm made it so he could play like this, so you both could play like this.

“Shit, you’ll pull out?” Your hands trembled when they found his backside and squeezed him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Promise, kitten. Cross my heart”.

One of your hands left his bum to move to his crotch, where you cupped and squeezed him and overall felt him over the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to let you feel as much as you could of him. “Fuck, okay. But Min… I’m not sure this will fit…”

“It will. I’m sure it will. It has to. You trust me, no?”

With a deep breath, biting your lip, you nodded. “Trust you with my life”.

When Minho pulled himself away from your hold, he just had to tell you how fucking gorgeous you looked with your hair all messy, your tits out, your ripped shirt, and that fucking skirt… The hem pooled on your belly, exposing your underwear and the mouth-watering wet-patch on them.

God, he wanted a taste… But there wasn’t enough time for that right now.

Minho hastily unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his length. You swore under your breath, taking him into your hand and spreading the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip so you could easily stroke him.

“Baby, please…” You guided him to your core. With your free hand, you pulled your underwear to the side, and dragged the tip of his cock all over your folds. “Need it. Need you, Minho…”

One day you’d be the death of him, he was sure.

Under normal circumstances, Minho would’ve stretched you open with his fingers, he would’ve made sure you were absolutely ready to take that annoyingly big alpha cock of his. But he figured skipping the step would be a bit more… in character.

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Minho pushed himself into your heat slowly, letting your walls adjust to his length with what he hoped wasn’t much discomfort. He knew that if there had been any, you would’ve said the word that would immediately stop everything you were doing. “That’s so fucking tight…”

You whined, not necessarily in discomfort, but in that way that made him know you were feeling impatient. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to push on his backside to get him to get in already. “Please, I need it all. Now”.

“Shit–!” As soon as Minho bottomed out and had propped himself on his forearms, you took a hold of his hair and pulled him down for a messy kiss.

There was just so much spit. Everything was so sloppy and messy and he was honestly enjoying it way more than he ever thought he would.

“Fuck, you’re so hard… Can’t believe you fit”, you mumbled breathlessly against his lips, releasing his hair to place your hands on his back.

“Didn’t doubt–Shit, if you keep clenching like that I’ll come, kitten… Didn’t doubt I’d fit right in. Isn’t this cunt for me? Hm? Hasn’t it always been?” Minho didn’t even give you time to respond, he just started to thrust, a borderline animalistic pace that had you biting on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

There was nothing but heavy breaths and desperate groans and whines and moans… Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard hitting the wall and your nails sinking on his clothed back…

Minho vaguely realised he was growling with each thrust. Like an animal. He was making all these sounds like the animal he was. And every time he did, your body just immediately reacted. Either by clawing at his back, or biting harder on his shoulder, or clamping hard around his length…

It was honestly driving him crazy. It reminded him that, ultimately, you accepted him, that you loved him just as he was. What an odd, but pleasant reflexion to make when you both were fucking, and pretending to be your teenage selves at that.

“It–It is”, you meekly mumbled after a while, and Minho, a bit puzzled, pulled himself away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “It’s yours. Has always been. I’ve always been”.

Minho swore loudly, throwing his head back once your words registered properly in his hazy mind. Your cunt was his, you were his. You’ve always been…

That reassurance, coupled with the vice grip of your walls, got him so incredibly close…

“Fuck, kitten, gonna come. Need to–need to pull out”, Minho was panting, drunk on the pleasure he was feeling and the fog clouding his reason.

Your legs tightened around his frame, keeping him as close as you could while he kept thrusting into you. “What if–What if you don’t?”

“Oh, God… Don’t say that…”

“Why? What if I want your puppies? Hm?”

He was going to die. Minho was sure he was seeing the gates of heaven open up right in front of him.

“C–can’t. We can’t…” Shaking his head, Minho tried his best to hold back, a titanic effort with how fucking good you were making him feel, with how fucking in love with you he was.

“Can’t…?” There was a pout on your lips, highlighted by your blown pupils, and Minho, once again, shook his head in response.

Minho just desperately shook his head. “Kitten, baby, please…”

The hold of your legs relented. Minho immediately straightened himself and pulled out of your warmth to take his cock in one of his hands while the other gripped your hip tightly. One, two pumps and he was groaning deeply, coming all over your underwear, over your mound and your now only partially exposed folds.

The sight was nothing short of exquisite. Your wrinkled, open shirt, your tits still falling out of your bra, with your nipples slightly puffy after all the attention Minho had given them, the skirt hunched at your waist, and your underwear drenched in his cum…

Minho felt light, satisfied, and, as he tried to catch his breath, he just took you in.

After a few moments of silence–silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ringing in his ears–a grin made its way to your face, and, a second after, you broke into laughter. It made him laugh, too. Maybe uncontrollably so.

“Oh, that was awesome”, you chuckled, wiping the tears that had collected in your eyes at your outburst. “So good”.

“Totally agree”, Minho leaned into you to press a brief kiss on your lips before he left the bed to find a face towel from your dresser to clean up the stupid amounts of cum that had come out of his stupid monster cock off of your body.

“‘Suppose it was a good thing that my dad isn’t coming until very late today. It would’ve been seriously awkward to explain what was going on if he found us… Well, like this”, you started shrugging your shirt off as soon as Minho had finished cleaning you up, and proceeded to work the couple of buttons on your skirt.

“I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the sight, to be honest”, Minho chuckled, getting out of his shirt and vest top as well to put his t-shirt back on and do his jeans.

As soon as you two were dressed properly and in clean clothes, you both laid back down, unbothered by the soiled sheets. Minho simply pulled you into his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he hugged you close.

“Kitten…” Minho mumbled against your hair after a while, dragging his hand up and down your back in a gentle caress. “Was that true?”

You absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest, shapes that he could’ve sworn were hearts and stars. “Was what true?”

“Y’know… that thing about… About you touching yourself while I was in the same room…”

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit so you could look him in the eyes. A smile came to your lips, right before you started opening your mouth to speak.

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ninasmovingcastle · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Modern!AU where the Reader comes home to Scara crying in his sleep? 🥺

-🍄

what a wonderful idea anon. you think like me fr

your wish is my command love !! <3

promise - wanderer

in which you come home to your beloved kuni crying in his sleep

modern!wanderer x gender neutral!reader

word count: 719

content warnings: he overthinks and sort of guilt trips if you squint

↳ you were held up at work and didn't get a chance to call him to let him know you'd be running late

↳ he immediately assumed that you don't love him anymore, and that you're gone for good.

gone, just like the others. gone, gone, gone. you were leaving him just like all the others had, he was sure.

kuni tried to distract himself from the immense loneliness that swallowed him when you weren't around. he wanted to tell himself that you'd be back soon, but in his heart he instinctively felt that you would never come back to him.

the tv program that he had put on while waiting for time to pass was simply white noise. he couldn't stop checking his phone, despite seeing the night slipping away from him. he constantly refreshed his inbox, desperate to see a notification from you pop up.

he lay in bed motionless, entirely defeated and engulfed in betrayal once again. he stopped his perpetual refreshing of his messages and grabbed your pillow from your side of the bed. he hugged it to his chest, taking in what he had left of you.

it's nothing. he'll just move on, like how he did with all the others in his past. as he tries to comfort himself he finds tears stinging the corners of his intense indigo eyes.

i'm tough, kuni reassures himself. it's no big deal.

his tears begin to overflow from his eyes, despite him putting forth his best effort to suppress them.

you're still not home. you hate him for sure, you're breaking up with him in the worst way possible. you're doing this on purpose, you're hitting him right in his weak spot.

his invasive thoughts keep him awake for much longer, until his eyes become more tired than he is. still clutching your pillow, he begins to drift in and out of sleep.

but even sleep could not bring him the relief of happiness. he dreamt of you complaining about him to your coworkers, letting them read all his messages to you, mocking him, poking fun at all his pain. he stayed asleep, seeing vivid images of how much you obviously hate him.

it was hours later that your key finally turned in the lock. it was not loud enough to wake kuni up, but he shifted around, hugging the pillow closer, wishing it was you, imagining it was you.

you took your shoes off to let him sleep as peacefully as possible, turning down the volume of the show that he put on to keep him company. his phone was still glowing beside him in the dim room, open to his recent messages. checking your own phone, you found dozens of unopened desperate texts from him.

sitting on the edge of the bed, you began to gently shake him awake. his body still twitched with an occasional sniffle here and there; he had cried his eyes out and then some. you smoothed your hand through his hair, whispering his name softly.

"kuni... kuni...?"

he slowly opens his eyes, squinting as he tries to make out the figure in front of him. he perks up as soon as he sees you, but his excitement soon dissolves into superficial anger. he turns away from you.

"where the hell were you?" he demands. his voice is breaking again, yet he knows that he physically cannot cry any more.

you explain that you were caught up in a late meeting and that you were away from your phone.

"next time, i'll make sure you know," you reassured him, your soothing voice pulling him closer.

kuni starts to sit up on the bed, letting the tear-soaked pillow hit the floor. he looks at you, still in your work clothes, with adoration in its purest form.

"next time, you just quit your job," he replies sarcastically.

he leans into you, letting you hold him. he makes you swear that you won't scare him like that again, locking pinkies to prove it. you maneuver your hand around his and press a kiss to his knuckles.

"i won't leave you," you promise.

#scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #scaramouche comfort #wanderer fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #wanderer comfort #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche imagines #wanderer imagines #i love torturing myself #haha make me shut up challenge #🍄 anon ✌︎('ω')✌︎

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

#bruce wayne #kon el #clark kent #chris kent #tim drake #superfamily #timkon #lowkey but it's there lol #omegaverse #not sfw #this-was-a-terrible-idea #rinfic #wip: the wet nurse omegaverse

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junos-office-drama · 10 months

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Love that fic, but having trouble expressing that love in a comment? Worried that you're leaving the same comments over and over?

Here are 40 comment ideas!

Keyboard Smash. Bonus points for a mix of uppercase and lowercase. End with a brief compliment: "Love it!" "So good!" "Amazing!" "This is my everything!"

Emoji string. Go as long as you feel appropriate. Throw in some 🔥 for good measure.

Quote a phrase, sentence, or passage that resonated with you, and explain why. "I love this description." "This is such beautiful language." "This metaphor is so brilliant." "This is the perfect way to describe [character/thing]."

Ask the author what inspired them to write such an incredible story. (Most authors dream of these types of comments.)

Share how the fic made you feel as you read it. Were you scared for a character? Were you cheering on your favorite? Did that smut make you all hot and bothered?

Thank the author. Bonus if you can thank them for something specific: Sharing this amazing work, introducing this awesome character, creating this cool AU, etc.

Identify your favorite character in the fic, and explain why they're your favorite.

Any indication that you're so in love with a work you literally want to eat it. My personal favorite that I've received is "I want to shove this in my mouth like an entire oreo," but "I want to print this out and stuff it in my face" and "This fic is like an amazing five-course meal, every bite is delicious!" are also winners.

For a multi-chapter fic, any version of "Wow, this keeps getting better and better!" This can really help keep an author motivated, especially if they've been focused on one longfic for a while. Longfics tend to have diminishing engagement over time, so commenting on later chapters is especially meaningful.

Tell the author that something in their fic is your "emotional support [thing]." Bob is my emotional support character, this is my emotional support fic, etc.

Tag it as if it were a social post, with all the hashtags it makes you think of. #myfavoritefic #incrediblewriting #truelove

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Make predictions on what you think will happen next, and explain why. End your comment with something along the lines of "I can't wait to find out if I'm right or wrong!" Note: Be sure to phrase your comment as to what you predict will happen, not what you think SHOULD happen.

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"This is my second kudos!" Repeat as many times as you want. Third, fourth, fortieth, it's all good.

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Is there an Original Character (OC) in the fic? Ask about the OC! Ask what inspired the author to create the OC. Ask for more information about the OC's background. Ask if the OC is based on any particular character or idea. Ask how they came up with the name, and if it has any special meaning. Seriously, just ask the author about their original creation.

Tell the author how attached you're growing to their story or their characters.

"It was so [emotion] when [character] did [thing]." For example, "It was so scary when Eddie charged off on his own, I was so worried for his safety!"

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A string of heart emojis (or the simple <3 ). As many as you feel appropriate. (One is appropriate. So is one hundred. You decide!) Make a rainbow if you want! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

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Screaming about the pain and agony you're in, especially on whump, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, and similar fics. Some authors are sadists. Let them know you're suffering (in that "oh hell it's so good it hurts" kind of way).

For chapters that end on a cliffhanger: Any screaming about how much the suspense is killing you and you can't wait for the next chapter. (Just remember not to demand the next chapter. "I'm so excited for the next chapter" = good / "You have to update right now or else" = bad.)

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Ask the author if they have a favorite character, scene, chapter, etc. Depending on the fandom, this can be very specific (favorite weapon, attack, transformation, vehicle, horse, monster, etc.).

Is it smut? Did it make you hot? Trust me, smut authors want to know.

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Is there a mystery that's absolutely boggling your brain? Share your theories! (YES: "Oh, what if Prince Smidgeon is actually killer?"). Just remember to never cross the line into telling the author what to do (NO: "You should make it so Prince Smidgeon is the killer.")

"I wish I could give you a kudos for each word in this [fic/chapter], it's just that good!"

Do you like making art? Ask the author if you can make fanart of their fic!

IF, and ONLY IF, the author has very clearly requested concrit (constructive criticism), then role up your sleeves and get to work putting together truly helpful, supportive criticism. Get started with this guide here.

Do you have other suggestions for this list?

Reblog with your favorite comments to give or receive!

(Tumblr insists on re-starting the list at 1 after the cut and I have no idea how to fix it??? It really is 40, I promise.)

#fanfiction comments #fanfic comments #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 readers #ao3 writer #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 comments #fic reading #fanfic readers #commentary

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jentledaisies · 1 year

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𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . . You're Attacked But They Think You're Trying To Escape

[ gif by @lisanamjoon ]

→ ❝ in which you’re attacked and run away but they believe you’re trying to escape them ❞

Warning: Stockholm Syndrom, manipulative behavior, blood/injuries, weapons[knives, guns], murder(semi-graphic), profanity, yandere

- fully got this idea from @ninetailedfoxmanchi post here ! it’s for bts n when i read it i was like “wow, kinda wanna write a version of that for our girls” no but really, for all my fellow army's here, pls check them out!

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy, but fantasized in a romantic way for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts taken place in this blog should remain so.

↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise. disclaimer 2: as this is a reaction for all four separate members of blackpink, there will be discrepancies in the length of each. not all will be the same length and this is for no other reason than that i as the author attempting to prevent run-ons and unnecessary additions to that part of the story. the length of each reaction in no way shape or form a show of favoritism or dislike towards any member. literally ever. pls stop putting those ridiculous accusations in my inbox, it's a vv far reach. ↳ some AUs for the yandere!blackpink reactions will be based on other folklore/mythology. (yandere!goddess , etc) these reactions will not be accurate to the true mythology/folklore but rather variations and adaptions made to assist the reaction/world of the reaction.

『••✎••』

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft sound of flipping pages, coming from the book you're currently reading. Your lover had to head to work early today due to a significant issue brought up at last night's mission. She didn't tell you when she would be home, but she said she could either be home early or late. You were hoping for early because as much as you hated to admit it, her presence around you and with you is more than something you're used to, it's something you crave.

And the silence with her gone was deafening. You have never hated being alone so much before.

The book in your hands loses your interest as you take to just flipping the pages, eyes trailing over the extremely large penthouse. According to her, this was the very first house she had purchased in which she lived alone. Before then she had mainly lived with the other three inner circle members, whom she considered her true sisters. It's large, much too large for one person, or even two, but she was mature enough to admit she enjoyed showing off her wealth in her house. According to her, when you became her lover, you made this more than just her house, you made it your home.

But since then, the two of you had been looking at other places to move to, not because you disliked this apartment but because you both wished to move somewhere that you could begin to truly build your life together. After all, she had more than enough money.

The list had narrowed down to four properties, based on all of the things you said you liked and wanted, and then she turned the responsibility of picking the final home out to you, so she could know that you truly love the home the two of you would go to.

And as the book starts to reach the last of its pages your eyes are drawn to the folders on the coffee table with the location pictures, interior pictures, dimension sizing, building rating, site history, etc. All the information you needed to make the most informed decision possible without leaving your current home. Of course, sans the pricing and all. She stated up and down that she would simply buy the building (and possibly the land it's on) and leave it all signed to you in a contract, that way should anything ever happen to her she could still take care of you.

The last page flips and the cover joins the rest of the book. You frown at the now closed book for a second -you forgot to put a bookmark in your spot- before setting it on the table to grab the folders instead. Since you have the time to kill, you may as well start looking over these.

You're unsure how much time passes with you flipping through each folder and creating a pro/con list in your notebook but you do know that you've gone over all of them twice when the door to the apartment starts to turn, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open causing you to stand and turn eagerly.

"Hey! I'm glad you're back because I think I know which one I like..." Your voice trails away as an unfamiliar woman steps through the door, shutting it softly but not locking it.

"Sorry," The corner of her lips curve up. "I don't think it was me you were expecting."

You're immediately taken with a sense of uneasiness and dread, your girlfriend had never introduced you to any other member of her gang. Only the other inner circle members. In fact, she always swore that she'd never bring any other member into your home.

"W-Who are you?" Your voice is shaky as you figure out the answer to your question before she answers. Though the slight drop in her mouth lets you know that she notices.

"I'm a friend of-"

"That's a lie." You cut her off before she can say your lover's name, unsure of what you were doing in exposing her lie. You were one person who had never really been trained past basic self-defense against a possible enemy gang member. "I asked who you are."

She just smiles wickedly as she slips a small blade into her hand. "Jung Ji-Ho wishes to simply say hello. It's not you who he wants, but I suppose you will do."

With that, she lunges toward you, faster than you expected, and creates a large cut on your arm as you attempt to run away. Your notebook flies under the sofa and the pictures go everywhere as you make a mad dash to the front door, the woman fast behind you. She reaches out and yanks you back by your hair, a scream leaving you as you pull away, leaving strands of your hair in her hand. She goes to cut you again and you don't think as you grab the knife with one hand and hit her face with the other.

"Hit between the eyes," M/N had told you. "It'll stun them enough for you to get away. Don't worry, I'll be there to save you then."

She flinches away, dragging the blade painfully across your palm, which leaves a bloody imprint as you throw open the door and rush out, heading to the private elevator. And just to your luck it opens, and you run in, not to an empty elevator, but into the arms of your love.

She was here to save you now, but you look up into her eyes, and you're only met with burning anger and bitter betrayal.

Kim Jisoo

[ gif by @intolisa ]

"And where do you think you're going, Darling?" Jisoo always looks cold but somehow she manages to look even more so as she stares at you, locking her hands onto your arms to hold you in place.

"Jisoo! You're here!" You shout in surprise, ready to tell your lover about the situation, but she misunderstands your rush to be fear of being caught.

She pushes you back with force, albeit gently, her hands locked tightly on your forearms. Her eyes bore into your own and you're frozen in place, forgetting everything as fear creeps up your spine. The elevator lets out a soft ding and the doors start to close behind her, snapping you from your stupor.

"We need to go!" You shout and lunge towards the buttons, stopping as she yanks you back, eyes steely and blank.

"Excuse me? We are not going anywhere but back into our home." She punctuates her words by tugging you closer.

"No, you don't understand-"

"I think I understand pretty well." Jisoo's voice is cold, devoid of any emotion although you can tell she's hurt. "What, you didn't think I'd come home on time? Were you wishing I stayed late? You thought you could just, slip away, and I wouldn't notice that my heart was gone?!"

You jump as she shouts the last words, hands reaching for her on instinct to calm her, and blood smears on her white t-shirt, the red handprint almost seeming like paint.

"I'm so sorry!" You blurt, your hands reaching forward in an instinctive attempt to wipe it off, but to no surprise, you end up smearing it more and reminding yourself of the situation. "Shit. Ok no, Jisoo please, we need to go now. Please."

Jisoo raises an eyebrow at your pleading, finally taking a moment to survey her surroundings once your blood smears on her shirt. The small, lines on the wall from where you stumbled through, the way the apartment door isn't even fully closed. The panic in your eyes and the injuries on your body.

Finally understanding she pushes you behind her gently, reaching for her brass knuckles as the door opens and the attacker steps out. Her glare sets deeper into her face, pushing the guilt of how she spoke to you away to focus on this scum that thought they could hurt her girl.

"Your name. Now." Jisoo simply demands, not in the mood to hear any excuses from the woman's mouth.

Clearly, the lady wasn't expecting the calm and almost bored demeanor that Jisoo had, given that she was standing so defensively and with her knives held tight. Your blood shines on the blades and catches your lover's eyes.

Jisoo glares so intensely at the woman that her knees start to shake, but it's not enough. She steps forward, scoffing as the attacker takes two steps back, and does it again. The dance continues until the attacker is up against a wall, holding out her knives as a pitiful defense. She can barely even blink before Jisoo punches her, breaking her nose immediately with her brass-enforced knuckles.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" Jisoo teases with a cruel pout, laughing slightly. "I thought that's what you wanted."

She doesn't wait for any response before she hits again, this time the woman's stomach. The screaming huff that leaves her makes you wince, but you don't move from the spot you're in, and try as you might you can't seem to tear your eyes away either.

"You know what? I don't need your name," Jisoo slams her fist into her face again, knocking her down. "I'll get it out of you later. Little bitch. Thought you could break in and hurt my girl? MY GIRL! Consider yourself very lucky I don't kill you here. Or don't, a faster death may be more merciful than what I have planned for you."

Jisoo slams her fist down again, but the woman is unresponsive, only her shallow breathing alerting the two of you to her undead state. Blood is splattered on your lover's hands and all over the unconscious woman's face. She huffs as she sits back, staring in amusement at the blood-covered woman, before remembering you.

"Darling," Her voice is a quiet sort of remorseful as she turns to face you, eyes saddening as you flinch. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

"I-It's okay." You stutter, not even believing in yourself.

"No, it is not 'okay.' You are injured and bleeding and without even taking notice of your pain I inflicted more. Forgive me, please." This time Jisoo's voice wavers, shame filtering in.

You step forward, hesitant, and then move more surely until you can wrap your arms around her waist and bury your head in her neck. The tears come quickly after.

"I was so scared." You sob shocking Jisoo who has her hands in fists at her side. Scared that it's her you're speaking of. "When she came in I thought it was you but then she-"

You shake as you cry, Jisoo now wrapping her own arms around you, realizing the terror that must've stricken you at the intruder. She doesn't let you continue, holding you close by your waist and your head, placing kisses on the side.

"I'm here. I'm here and your safe, my darling." She soothes your hair, shuffling to move you both into the penthouse. Her neck strains as she hides the anger in her voice at the damage, knowing you were the one attacked during it. "I'll always protect you. I swear."

She pulls away once the two of your reach the staircase, helping you up while texting some members to pick up the woman in the hallway. She'd take care of the mess after she took care of your injuries.

You didn't want to sit on the expensive couch, your arm and hand still bleeding heavily so the two of you enter the en suite where she has you sit on the counter. Pulling out the emergency aid kit that Lisa left at all the members' houses she chuckles wryly.

"I never thought it'd be you being patched up with this. Or ever." Jisoo jokes wryly, regret lacing her voice as she finishes washing the wounds, wincing when you did.

The cuts aren't as deep as she thought, all the blood just making them seem to like it. Jisoo's eyebrows scrunch as she focuses on disinfecting the wounds, keeping your mind off of the pain as her lips part a little. Even when she's pouring rubbing alcohol over open wounds of yours, she remains beautiful.

Jisoo recalls how Lisa told her that cuts that are big enough to bleed but not too deep like yours don't need stitches. Just a wrap. The white gauze makes Jisoo feel sick.

The fact that you're bleeding under there makes Jisoo even sicker.

"No offense but, shouldn't we ask Lisa to do this?" The question makes Jisoo laugh.

"I've done this plenty of times too! Just because I never went to med school." She grumbles as she helps you down and onto the bed. "Wait here for a moment."

She pecks your cheek as she leaves the room to fetch some tea, slipping a bit of a sedative into it, just to make sure you rest well. Walking back into the room she finds you already fluffing the pillows and in your pajamas.

"That's not waiting." She 'tsks' as she hands you the cup, raising an eyebrow as you down it like a shot. "Try and get some rest, Darling."

"Aren't you staying?" With the way your face freezes in fear, Jisoo can't bring herself to tell you that she was in fact leaving, just for a little bit.

"I'm just going to clean up the apartment before I join you. Too much adrenaline." So instead she smiles sweetly while lying. She'd leave after you slept and be back before you awoke anyway.

"Ok. I love you." Your eyes start to shut and your voice slurs as she pecks your forehead.

"I love you too, Bunny."

----

Your eyes feel weighed down when you rouse from your slumber, the room pitch black except for the light streaming in as the door opens. Jisoo walks in and in your hazy vision, you can make out the way she shrugs off her jacket, throwing it into the trash. Her dark red shirt followed soon after.

As your eyes give in to the weight a nagging voice in the back of your head reminds you that she was wearing a white shirt when she left.

Kim Jennie

[ gif by @jaennie ]

"Well, hello my love." Jennie just stares at you in surprise, but her sweet smile still spreads across her face, even though her eyes don't reflect it. "Quite funny meeting you out here...when you are meant to be in there."

Jennie's grip is gentle on you, but firm as she holds your waist and one of your hands as though leading you in a dance.

"Although, why you didn't just say you wanted to go out," her voice is chilly despite the twinge of love hidden within. "I would've taken you anywhere you asked."

"Jennie!" You know the shock on your face probably makes the situation look worse given how her face falters.

"Y/N," She starts a deep sigh escaping her. "What are you doing? And, please, just tell me the truth."

You can tell exactly what Jennie thinks you were doing and your heart breaks at how hurt you know she must feel. How her smile is so so sweet, but her eyes are cold to hide how she really feels.

"It's not what you think." You wince when you say that, you don't even know why you said that. "No! I mean, it's not...that."

"It's not what?" Jennie's smile tightens. "Tell me what it is."

"It's...There's someone in the apartment!" You can't understand why it took so long to get the words out, but Jennie's reaction is immediate. Her smile falls and her eyes dart to the door that's closed only partly.

"I don't know who she is b-but she said she knew you. I figured that was a lie but she attacked me when I went to leave! Please, I would never do that to you. I promised." Your words start to jumble as you speak as fast as you can but she understands, she always understands you.

"Where are you hurt, my love." Jennie's voice becomes soft, her shoulders loosen and her eyes sweeten. Her eyes are drawn to your bloody arm and the cut on your hand. Quickly, she sheds her blouse, leaving her in just a tank top, so she can quickly wrap it around your arm.

"Do me a favor and go in the elevator. Close the doors and wait for a bit." She tells you quickly as the door starts to open. She pulls out her gun and checks the mag before placing a kiss on your head. "Go."

"Please don't get hurt." The lady steps out of the apartment, her hair a mess and eyes glaring. Your blood stains her hand and the knife that she grips tighter when she sees your lover.

You turn quickly, dashing into the metal box, and hit the button that closes the doors before crouching in the furthest corner and hiding your ears in your hands.

You can hear Jennie scream something, but her voice is muffled by both the doors and your hands, but the slam against said doors causes the box to rattle, and a small shriek to escape you. Another shout comes but it's not from Jennie, you assume it's the other woman. A gunshot finally rings, and this time you know it's from Jennie's gun, and another bang follows. Two more ring out in quick succession, and the other woman's wails ring in your ears.

You flinch back, trying to almost dig yourself into the mirror backing of the elevator as more screams ring out. you can almost make out the pleas in them from your hands over your ears, and you feel a chill creep up your back as a faint sound of a laugh comes through.

All too soon there is another very loud slam against the elevator doors, and more gunshots ring out until a trickle of red liquid drips through the cracks. Bile rises in your throat and you scoot as far as you can into the mirrored wall, slipping as the blood pool inches closer and closer.

Ding!

The doors open and you see Jennie kick something away, and with the large thump that follows you realize it was probably the body.

"My love," She sighs as she sees your curled-up body scorching away from the blood, her eyes soften into gentle flames and her lips pout. "I am so sorry. Oh, you're hurt and I didn't even notice-"

"Please just hug me." You cut her off as you stand up, eyes still trained on the devilish red liquid on the floor. She doesn't hesitate, stepping directly into the puddle to engulf your in her arms, causing you to look away.

With much ease, she picks up your legs to have them wrap around her waist and carries you simply down the hallway until she can enter the apartment, being met with the flipped-over table and papers everywhere...and your blood covering the handle of the door. Her heart sinks as she sees the damage and feels your soft breath on the crook of her neck from where your head is hidden. She steps over the scattered pictures to enter the guest bathroom, softly placing you on the counter with a kiss on your head.

She silently pulls out her aid kit, avoiding your eyes in shame as she pulls out a cloth to wipe the excess blood away. You don't flinch as the wet cloth turns red but the rubbing alcohol is different. You're clumsy but you very rarely have such large cuts, so the stinging sensation, while not new, is still quite painful for you. At the whimper that leaves your lips, Jennie pulls away as though being burned, hands resting at her sides as her fists clench.

"I'm sorry." Her lips thin as she forces herself to continue disinfecting. "I'm so sorry."

The trace of tears on her waterline shocks you but at the same time, you almost expect them. They hurt you more than the alcohol finding its way into your open wound though so your reach your unharmed hand up to brush them away.

"Stop saying you're sorry." You make her look at you, meeting her eyes gently. "You saved me. Just like you promised me."

"Always. I'll always save you. But you're hurt and I tried to make assumptions before I helped ease the pain."

"But you understood anyway. So stop saying you're sorry." She looks back down as you smile reassuringly and you figure it's time to move on from the topic. "I think I picked a house."

"What?" Jennie looks up, puzzled at the topic.

"From the four you brought me. I think I know which one I like the most." You smile at her before frowning. "Oh, but I had written it all down in my notebook, but I don't know where it went after I threw everything."

"That's fine! I can go find it!" Jennie turns to go look but you hook your arm around her waist.

"Can you finish wrapping my arm? I don't think I'll be able to tie it on my own, then we can look at them again together."

Jennie turns around with a sheepish smile, quickly finishing the wrap on your arm, and pressing a kiss to your hand after. She rushes out of the bathroom after ordering you to stay in there for a bit longer and when you do come out the living room looks like nothing happened. Jennie pulls you to the couch and has you sit on her lap while she opens your notebook and the pro/con lists.

Every now and then your eyes drift up to look at the shoes that still have blood covered on them, waiting for the gang's cleanup crew to come to grab them. Jennie steals your attention away with kisses when you do.

Park Chaeyoung｜Rosé

[ gif by @jaennie ]

Chaeyoung's face is much calmer than her eyes. In fact, if you didn't know her so well you wouldn't think anything was wrong.

"Well aren't you in a rush? Careful, Sweets, you might hurt yourself." She leans down as she says that, almost mockingly. It's not hard to guess how the dots connected for her, it'd be hard to see the scene as anything else. Especially so soon after you had told her that no matter what, you would never leave her.

"Rosie, help me. Please." You're shaking though, from the complete terror of the person who entered your home, so you can't seem to focus on anything but asking for help. For begging your hero to save you the way she always does.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, taking in everything in the hallway, calmly and violently. Her sweet love, so soft and kind was shaking in her arms, bleeding and crying. Oh, she would burn whoever did this to the ground.

"Where?" Rosie calmly pulls her gun out and changes the clip, having emptied it earlier at 'work'. "Where is the dead man walking?"

"S-She's inside still. I pushed her a bit hard." You flinch away from your girlfriend as you say that scared at how quickly she arms herself with two guns and brass knuckles.

Rosie places her gun behind her back again, instead reaching forward to place her hands on your face and meet her eyes with yours. "Sweetheart, breath. I am here and no one will touch you like that again. I can promise you that."

You meet her eyes with shaky panic, shivering as though it was snowing though the hallway was heated. "Do you promise?"

"I swear on my life, I will personally see to the destruction of anybody who dares harm you," Rosie answers you with unwavering confidence and the trembling in your body stops. Your shoulders are still tensed like a brick wall and with the way you flinch into her when the door to your apartment opens again, Rosie almost falls over.

She pulls you behind her and pulls her gun out, making the woman across the hall freeze. Rosé aims her gun at her, turning her body to face you when she sees that the attacker isn't going to make a move. She places a soft kiss on your forehead, brushing away a tear as she pulls away.

"I'll just be a moment, Sweets."

She turns around and before she can even blink shoots a shot into the attacker's right knee. You don't see, but a cruel smile crosses her face as she hears the scream tear itself from the woman's throat. For her, it's her favorite noise from her enemies, and that woman was currently enemy number 1.

She tucks her gun away as she steps closer to the woman collapsed on the ground, she wanted to make her suffer and a gun was much too...clean.

She stands over the woman who's struggling to save face, attempting a glare at Rosé but struggling to hold the scream behind her lips. Without any feeling, Rosé brings her heeled boot back and hits a strong kick to the woman's ribs. This time you can see the faint shake in your girlfriend's shoulders as she chuckles.

Rosé bends down from the waist to look the lady in her eyes, not wanting to kneel and get her clothes dirty.

"What? Can't look me in my eyes now?" Rosé pulls out her gun again, pressing it to the woman's left foot, putting pressure when she tries to pull her leg away. "Afraid of blood? But you weren't when you decided to harm my girl."

Another shot rings and despite her wishes blood splatters on Rosé's pants. With her arm pulled back she slams her gun into the attacker's head, creating a large gash and causing her to go sprawling.

"You got my pants dirty." She stands straight and then proceeds to kick the attacker again, this time on her knee. "Oh, did that hurt? Sorry."

With a roll of her eyes, she steps on the profusely bleeding left foot, putting most of her pressure on the wound for maximum pain. No longer having the will to scream the attacker just writhes on the floor in pain, like a dying fish.

"Sweetheart," Rosé's call catches your attention, dragging your terrified eyes from the bleeding woman. "What would you like me to do?"

"What?" Your voice is hoarse, and your eyes wide, not understanding.

"With her. What would you like me to do, since she attacked you? I'll do whatever you say." Your lover's eyes soften as she looks at you, as if gently telling you it's ok. Distracting you from how she stepped on the woman like a dart holding its target.

"Do what you do." You say before quickly adding on. "But not here! Please, do whatever it is you do with...that. But don't make me see it."

Rosé hesitates for a moment before nodding, turning quickly to bash her gun handle into the attacker's head again. This time knocking her out and stopping that god-awful writhing. She steps off of the woman, kicking the unconscious woman once before turning back to you. Gentle smile back on her face like she wasn't laughing at screams earlier.

"Come, Honey." She holds her hand out for you, lacing your fingers and basically holding you up when you collapsed into her arms to walk with her back into the apartment.

She sweeps your legs up to carry you up the stairs, laying you gently in the bed as she leaves the room, returning minutes later with tea and an aid kit.

"I'm sorry. For the pain, this is about to cause and for the pain, you endured without me here." Her voice is laced with shame, soft and hesitant, but her hands work deftly in wrapping your wounds. Although she winces much harder than you don when the alcohol stings the cuts.

"Just, please don't let me be hurt again. Please."

"Never." She responds quickly, hardly even letting you finish the request. She helps guide the tea to your mouth. "I put some pain meds mixed into the tea as it'll help you relax more. They have sedation effects so you'll fall asleep quickly. I'll be here when you wake up but I will be gone while you're asleep to deal with the trash."

You nod, finishing off the chamomile tea, and placing the cup down to reach for a hug. She holds you securely, feeling the effects the sedation has on your limbs as you start to drift off. "Just, promise me, you won't tell me what you do to her. I know no matter what, you'll always protect me. I don't want to know how. I don't need to."

Your eyes close but you can feel her nod against your shoulder, and place a kiss before tucking you in. The door closes behind her.

Lalisa Manobal｜Lisa

[ gif by @sefuns ]

"You said you loved me."

Lisa can only look at you, eyes filled with betrayal and hurt, so much so that she doesn't even notice your trembling and wounds.

Her voice is strained like it pains her to make the accusation. And for a moment you forget about the current situation. Because her eyes are burning, filled with pain and betrayal stings her eyes in the form of tears and all you know is this extremely strong woman is crying and it's because of you.

"I do," You pledge to her again but your voice is pleading as you speak frantically. "I do love you. I do. But-"

"No!" Lisa cries out as you go to continue, misunderstanding what you were about to say. She pushes you then, out of the elevator and into the wall behind you, gripping your arm hard. "You told me- swore to me- that you love me. That you'll stay with me. You can't just leave! Please."

Your heart hurts as her voice cracks and how the obsessed look in her eyes takes over. But her hands pushing against the cuts on your body hurt even more. You could fix the relationship in a second but all you could say right now was:

"You're hurting me."

Lisa looks down then, finally noticing your blood, which was coating her hands. She lets you go immediately and meets your eyes, shock, and confusion covering the betrayal in them for a moment.

"Why are you bleeding?" She asks calmly, but with a new sense of panic coming over her as she spots the cut on your arm and the even deeper gash on your palm. Luck is clearly on your side today because as soon as she asks that, the woman who attacked you steps out of the apartment.

Her eyes open wide at seeing your lover with you and she freezes, giving Lisa enough time to comprehend the scene in front of her. You don't blame her for needing a second longer than normal to react, just before she was thinking you tried to leave her. Her heart just broke in two and is now in the process of unbreaking from nothing.

But naturally, your sweet lover acts with ease, entering her mafia persona and standing in front of you. She's a tall person, but as she stands with her fists clenched and shoulders back and, you assume, a glare on her face, she looks ten times taller. You can see the muscle in her jaw jump from behind her defensive position.

"Who are you?" She asks the same thing you did, voice strained but calm. A chill, however, crawls down your spine at the detached cold tone you've never heard before. Not even on that day she rescued you, she had only sounded annoyed at your former captor, the man who sends his hello through the woman standing at the end of the hall.

"Miss Manobal, I'm here to-"

"I asked who you are." Lisa interrupts her, similar to what you had done, although you assume that the woman is telling a truth instead of a lie this time. "Actually, don't bother. I remember you from that day. What does Jung want this time? We're not interested in any deals and he's too incompetent to launch any successful attacks against us."

She looks mildly offended across the hall and Lisa lets out another cold laugh.

"Oh, is that what this is? An attempt at an attack? Of course, it is. A stupid plan really, you're not talented enough to get away with a single assassination." At the girl opening her mouth to argue Lisa lifts a finger and clicks her tongue. "No. I'm right. You wanna know how I know?"

As Lisa toys with the woman across the hall, a sense of dread fills you like never before. The woman is frozen, in fear or curiosity you don't know, you're not too sure for yourself either. All you know is Lisa has her gun in her hidden hand and a devious smile on her face. You can tell she's angry from the tone of her voice, yet it still sounds cool and calm. Lisa has her prey in the palm of her hand, and if the prey is you or the lady, you can't tell.

"I can tell because," Lisa is close to her now, but instead of attacking she finishes her story. "That meeting, the one you were at, was set up for an alliance, to give the Jungs access to our assassination teams. He knows he can't give a good attack, so he came running to us for help. Of course, nobody in that idiotic gang can come up with a good plan, although I'll give you props for this seemingly ok one. Now, Y/N, turn around and cover your ears."

Lisa points her gun directly at the woman's forehead before twisting her head to look at you. At the blatant fear paralyzing your body, she softens her tone, eyes sinking back into the pools of love that they used to be, betrayal fading away. "Baby, please. Trust me."

You stay looking for a moment longer at her, and how the woman's eyes flit back and forth between the two of you before widening at the realization of who you are. You turn then, missing the desperate turn she makes in an attempt to salvage any possibility of staying alive that she had.

Had Lisa captured her for just attacking a plaything, she would stay alive to be interrogated, and she would find a chance to escape. But she had seen that look before, the one Lisa had given you, on other very powerful mafia leaders. You were the reason she would die today because Lisa would never let anyone hurt you.

You turn around, eyes shut closed tightly and hands clamping down over your ears. The bang of the gun is still loud like you don't even have your hands over your ears, and you flinch, shoulders curling in. The second bang takes you further by surprise and a gasp leaves your lips, but then the shots continue. You lose count after ten. But somewhere around there your gasps turn into small screams. A much louder scream leaves you when arms are wrapped around you, or it may be because you know exactly whose arms they are, and it can't be the lady who broke into your home.

You flinch forward, attempting to get away from the arms but Lisa walks in front of you so that she can instead hold you against her, your most touching her collarbone so she feels your shaking breaths.

"Please don't." You plead with her without recognizing, the words spilling like blood from the wounds on the woman behind you. "Please don't hurt me. I'll be so good, I promise."

"Shh hey," Lisa shushes you quickly, pulling back slightly to look you over, her eyes only showing love and concern now that she understood. "You are good, you've always been good. I'm so sorry I scared you, baby. I never wanted that to happen. Let's just go inside, your cuts must be hurting."

You nod and go to turn around but she pulls you back. Murming a soft 'Close your eyes' she picks you up bridal style. After some steps and shifting, the front door to the apartment closes behind the both of you. You risk opening your eyes and are met with the bloody footprints your lover leaves.

You close your eyes again.

『••✎••』

#blackpink yandere #yandere blackpink #blackpink jennie #blackpink rosè #blackpink jisoo #blackpink lisa #yandere jisoo #yandere rosé #yandere jennie #yandere lisa #yandere reactions

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multi-fandom-simp · 1 year

Text

Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2

[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Hanahakis Disease!AU

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?

❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth

(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)

Word Count: 2,329

Taglist: @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)

It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes.

“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out.

“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving.

“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back.

“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.

“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage.

“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly.

“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother.

“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead.

“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.”

“ Mother-”

“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat.

“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in.

“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot.

“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”

“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.

“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement.

“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton.

“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.

“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased.

“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back.

“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.

“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.

“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter.

“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck.

“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish.

“ Stop that” Aemond scolded.

“ Stop what, I’m-”

“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward”

Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times.

“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong.

“ Muñaaa-”

“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him.

“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough.

“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into.

“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly.

“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks.

“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.

“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.

“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?”

“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers.

“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing.

“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes.

“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys.

“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll.

“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground.

“Avy jorrāelan”

“Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals.

Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.

“She’s gone, Aemond-”

“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.

“ Apologies, my prince-”

“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more.

“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her.

“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.

“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-”

“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake.

“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.”

Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons.

“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare.

“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy.

“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly.

“ No.” Aemond refuted.

“ Yes-”

“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end.

Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death.

“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door.

“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”

Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil.

“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river.

“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon angst #angst

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f1crecs · 11 months

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Fic Rec List - Soulmate AUs

If your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don't forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

thank you to @wolfiemcwolferson for the request. 🤍 there are a selection of pairings here - I hope some of these will hit the spot for you!

Mark/Sebastian

Treading Softly in My Head by @antimonyandthyme | M | 9k After the events of Multi21, Sebastian and Mark develop an unwilling soul-bond. Beautiful characterisation and pacing - this is a world you can really get lost in.

Sebastian leans in despite himself. In school, the teachers had talked about how special these things were. Words like love and compatibility thrown around like in a song. And here they are, two people who can barely tolerate each other. Mark and him sitting in this office, having this conversation, can’t be anything but a statistical anomaly.

Lewis/Sebastian

nsfw: A Thousand Shades of You by tianvette | E | 8k Lewis and Sebastian meet on a hike. Sebastian saves Roscoe. What follows is some of the sweetest, hottest, and most beautifully characterised Sewis that I have ever read. I loved this

'Skin pressed to skin, shadow and light. Lewis has a look in his eyes that’s almost reverence. Seb can’t believe Lewis is real. He wants to give him everything, to take everything in return.'

Charles/Sebastian

an evolutionary theory of the soul by @blimeycrikeygeorge | M | 28.4k Soulmates can hear each other's thoughts. Some of the most delightful Charles I think I have ever read - Anney truly is a master at capturing him! I love everything by this author.

'He wishes he could offer more than vague, meaningless words, but he doesn’t know how to ease his soulmate’s despair. He hesitates, torn between leaving and giving in to the urge to make his soulmate feel better, a need so deeply rooted in his bones that it feels vital to his own survival.'

Carlos/Lando

nsfw: Twin Flame by @phebess | E | 13.7k Beautiful soulmate slowburn. Everything Phebes writes is a joy, and this is no exception. Gorgeous pace and charactersation. Really funny banter. Love!

'A wave of grief, of betrayal, of loneliness. It rolls through him, so strong that he curls in on himself in bed. It's not his pain, but something about it feels... familiar.'

Carlos/Charles

nsfw: i feel so much, i feel so numb by @f1-stuff | E | 23k Charles has the name Carlos on his wrist - things get trickier as they become teammates. Gorgeous exploration of soul-mateism, familial pressures, and the relationship between teammates. Just lovely!

'Being teammates means they will have to toe the line between friend and foe, ally and enemy. Soulmate and stranger.'

Charles/Max

nsfw: carry me in your heart (you know you're never gonna leave mine) by @pgaslys | E | 30.1k Charles can, on occasion, see through his soulmate's eyes. This is such a beautiful story that tracks their developing relationships over the years. It was such a privilege to Beta this one - I still remember the first time I read it in full. I didn't stop once. Lovely.

Charles is aware that Max is the type of driver who can recognize his own talent without any bullshit. Takes one to know one. It’s often mistaken for arrogance but it’s not about that and they both know it.

Charles/Pierre

Tumblr Ficlet by @effervescentdragon | No Rating | 2.2k A world where you can feel your soulmate's heart beating alongside your own in your chest. This is, simply put - stunning. Everything Akira writes is stunning. I wish I could read this again for the first time.

'He smells so good, and Singapore is warm and wet, and Pierre is close and radiating contentment and heat, and Charles knows his heart skips a beat, and another. Before he knows, the picture is taken, and Pierre is looking at him strangely.'

counting stars in the sky by @river-ocean | T | 14k Pierre worries that he will never find his true soulmate. Just the most beautiful worldbuilding here - I could read thousands of words set in this world, it is so rich and well thought out.

'Adults around him often said that it was clear that he was an old soul -- that he had been through many lifetimes before this, and that the wisdom of those lifetimes was ingrained in him.'

it's not like I chose you, not like I tried by @wolfiemcwolferson & @duquesademiel | M | 16.7k Soulmates only begin aging past twenty-five once they've found their soulmate. I loved the concept of this one, and it was executed beautifully. Two gorgeous writing styles, together - what's not to love?

'But at the end of the day, they are Charles and Pierre, Pierre and Charles, and it doesn’t really matter what they say, because they just inherently trust each other.'

whatever our souls are made of (his and mine are the same) by @luisjuanmilton | No Rating | 17.5k Pierre and Charles are cursed to lose each other throughout time. A stunning star-crossed-lovers tale that explores devotion, friendship, and true love. I adored this!

'Realizing he was in love with Charles felt as natural as breathing, like something that had been bound to happen no matter what.'

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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 1 year

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I'm so glad I found your account! You guys are very talented <33

I know canonically Mortdecai isn't, uh, amazing with kids but what if a Marigold members daughter started hanging around the building (like Ivy did when she was younger) and she reminded Mortdecai of one of his sisters (Esthers moodiness or Roses cheeriness)? I'd love some headcanons about the scenario^^

I wasn't going to write this until later but I absolutely had to jump ahead of schedule and write this because it nagged at my mind almost all week. You even started an AU for the other mods and I, anon. This little idea is so tasty and adfghfgferhrj

You are the biggest brain and I hope you don't mind that me and Iphiko (and maybe even Rory!) had a little taste of this drink ourselves first. Different bottle, don't worry, we haven't touched any of what's in your hand right now

Also thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying these things (as if the inbox flooding wasn't proof enough), it makes us Lackadaisy Moonshiners so happy and gives me an excuse to keep writing. You're all awesome!

At first, it almost stings. He still remembers Ivy, after all; her wandering around following Viktor or whoever caught her eye whenever she could. It was cute. Adorable, even.

But Mordecai seems to be the target of this little beast's attention. And no amount of waving her off, gently pushing her away with his foot or annoyed threats will get her to pick someone else.

The Savoys are enamored with the little bugger. Serafine started calling her "Bébé Couteau" (Baby Knife) after being allowed to teach her some knife tricks (why Asa let them put a knife in the hands of a kitten, Mordecai will never know) and Nico picked up the habit of startling the little girl by picking her up and spinning with her...Which slowly evolved into throwing her across the bloody bar into Serafine's arms after an accident that resulted in the kitten getting yeeted by a distracted Nico (apparently she loved it (and to Serafine's credit, she ran like Hell to catch her); so it's not exactly safe but it's okay??)

Several speakeasy attendees mistake her to be Mordecai's kitten since she's always hanging around him (and especially so if she's a Tuxedo cat). It probably doesn't help that he loudly objects to the twins throwing the kitten back and forth like a football and has even ripped her out of their arms once or twice

They also (correctly) assume that he calls the shots when it comes to her. If she's making trouble or is heading somewhere that she shouldn't be, someone has to work up the courage to tell that ferocious shadow of Asa's. It's him, the queen cat that looks like she's constantly considering stabbing you or the heartthrob at the bar vicious son of a bitch who always looks like he knows that he's better than you

It's an unspoken rule between the three that Mordecai's word is law when it comes to the kitten. He hates this and is sure that they just use this as another excuse to tease him.

Asa scares the Hell out of the poor little thing. He tried greeting her once and she burst into tears and ran to Mordecai so he could protect her. The twins thought this was hysterical: the kitten adores the ground Mordecai walks on, laughs at Serafine's threats and thinks Nico throwing her at a soft target as hard as he can is the bee's knees; but Asa Sweet-the big fat cat with the softest features out of all of them-scares the living daylights out of her.

Mordecai thinks the kitten has a good judge of character sometimes. If it wasn't for her love of the chaotic duo he'd say that out loud

They brought the kitten along to a "meeting" once when she were sick with a fever. She cried when Mordecai left the car and Serafine refused to leave until she was comforted or at least sleeping, so (after some arguing and sweet-talking) Mordecai went back for her. When he didn't leave the vehicle for a few minutes, the Savoys went on without him.

They came back to find him reading a book, the kitten snuggled up against his side and sound asleep tucked under his coat and arm. The soft look in Morde's eye told Nico that maybe this wasn't the time to be teasing him.

This didn't stop Serafine. Mordecai hasn't heard the end of that event. (Asa also gave him some Hell for leaving the twins to do the dirty work, but Serafine and Nico shut him down pretty quickly-they found whatever crate he wanted, no witnesses are around to tell the tale, the job was done just fine and the kitten needed him more than they did. Shut up, Mr. Sweet.)

Whoever's daughter the kitten is, they'd better learn to deal with Mordecai becoming her guardian angel of death. If she doesn't have a parent and just wandered in somehow, she's gonna end up with something better: an aunt that'll teach her to kill and how to stay strong, an uncle that'll toss her around like a hot potato and teach her to be fearless and another uncle that'll pretend to not care for her until someone looks at her the wrong way.

Mordecai, Serafine and Nico. Probably the worst-fitting cats to be any kind of parental figures, yet ones that will guard a mutually-adopted kitten until their final breaths-whether they'll admit to it or not.

#🖋 mod ille #Mordecai Heller #Serafine Savoy #Nicodeme Savoy #Headcanon Home Brew #headcanon #Lackadaisy #Feel free to ask any of us for more because I adore this concept so much you have no idea #Anyone asking for a continuation will get it on the house if I pick it up

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cerridwen007 · 6 months

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Wrong to want you like I do. Part 1.

Pairing: (No Breakout AU) dbf!Joel Miller and f!reader.

Word count: 1.7k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: You're back in your hometown for the year to earn some cash while you work out what you wanna do with your life. The only problem is its spring; rainy season. And you don’t own a car nor do you know how to drive, so when you get caught in a big storm, you finally end up relying on your dad’s best friend to come and help.

Notes/Warnings: Smut/Fluff, swearing, Joel being a softie sweetheart for reader, oral(m receiving), mention of f masturbation, age gap (reader early 20’s/Joel 56), shy/awkward reader, no y/n.

A/N: Hoping on the dad’s best friend Joel train cause I have been eating those fics up lately, and they are so fricken good. Is this inspired by myself and the fact that I had to walk in the pouring rain to work on the other side of town and just spent the whole time daydreaming that I could have Joel come and pick me up? Maybe? So yes it’s a little self-indulgent cause I just am such a passenger princess, but I would be hella willing to learn to drive if Joel taught me hehe. I plan on making this a slow burn fic series, so let me know if y'all would want more. As always, thank you for any interactions with any of my posts. It's all very much appreciated. I'm also on A03 if you prefer reading on that platform. And my inbox is always open if you wanna chat! Enjoy bebes.

********

“Fuck.”

It was that time of year again where basically every week there was rain and lots of it. Normally you wouldn’t mind the rain, especially if you got to stay at home all day, with a nice cup of tea, reading or watching a movie and letting it lull you to sleep when night fell. But today, where you actually had to go out and walk to work without a car, it made your life a bit difficult.

Your parents had been kind enough to drive you to and from work a lot of the time, to which you generously compensated them for. But on days like this where they were both busy with work, and you didn't really have anyone else to ask for a ride from in your small town, you stubbornly decided to just walk in the pouring rain.

Usually you didn't mind, in fact you kind of enjoyed walking the long distance to work on the other side of town but times like these where the weather was shit, it was a dreadful experience. After you finished getting ready for work, you finally walked out the door and locked up the house.

You sighed as you began to walk down you drive way and down your street, as not only was it raining heavily it was also windy as fuck, so the old umbrella you brought with you to try and protect yourself from the rain was threatening to bust with every swoop of wind that it got caught in. At least you had some music to entertain you, you thought as an old love song played through your earphones. You half-heartedly laughed at yourself, so you didn’t cry with how fucken soaked you were going to be when you got to work, therefore uncomfortable your entire shift.

As you turned onto a busier road, you scowled a little at the drivers going past you in your cars, and as if your sour face triggered one of them, a truck going past suddenly pulled over next to you. Swallowing harshly, unsure of how this interaction was going to go, you warily walked past the truck.

“Need a ride sweetheart?” A deep southern voice calls out.

You turn to get a better look at the source of the voice that called to you, and your shoulders immediately ease up. It was Joel, your dad’s best friend. A grumpy yet giving man who had known you since you were a young kid. And had also secretly been the star in your wet dreams and fantasies since you were old enough to think about those things. Your stomach fluttered with butterflies as he gave you a soft smile and leaned over to open his passenger door. You quickly got in and gave a big sigh of relief to be out of the cold and the rain. He chuckled softly and waited for you to put your seatbelt on.

“Couldn’t catch a ride with Mom or Dad today, honey?” Joel asks, his big brown eyes melting from the inside out.

“Nah, they were both working, so they couldn't run me to work.”

Joel nods and starts up his truck again before driving off in the direction of your work. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you.

“D'ya wanna put your music on sweet girl?” Joel asks after a few minutes.

You blush and look down shyly at your lap from the nickname. Butterflies continue to brew in your stomach.

“Uh you probably won’t like the music I was listening to.” You awkwardly laugh.

“You don’t know that and besides even if it is horrible, I won’t mind one bit cause it’s what ya like.” Joel says, offering you a kind smile.

Your cheeks start to burn, you try and fight off the curve of the smile that threatens to upturn your lips but lose. You eventually pull out your phone and plug it into Joel's soundsystem and play the last song you were listening to.

Both of your eyebrows match each other from curiosity, as a slow melody begins to fill the cabin of the truck.

“When Sunny gets blue, her eyes get grey and cloudy and then the rain begins to fall.”

You look over to Joel's profile, his warm eyes transfixed on the road before him, his lips slightly smirking, a stark contrast to the rest of his overwise, hard exterior. A beat goes by, and you remember that you're starting and should look away.

“Then the rain begins to fall, pitter patter, pitter patter.”

“Didn't pin you for an old school music kinda gal, no offense, darling.”

You softly laugh. “Yeah well I like all kinds of music to be honest, but I just thought I would try and romatisic walking in the pouring rain to work and make it less miserable.”

Joel hums at your answer, seemingly not hating the music and maybe even enjoying the slow tunes. A new song starts playing as you near your work.

“Just a song before I go, to whom it may concern.”

“Mhhmmm good song. Love me some Crosby, Stills, and Nash.”

You smile to yourself thinking how when you first heard this song it reminded you of Joel. Your smile falters when you arrive at work and realise you have to leave Joel.

“Well thank you so much for the ride. Honestly such a life saver.”

“Anytime doll. Have a good shift.”

*********

That whole shift, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Joel, and you kept having to catch yourself, smiling wide to yourself like a dork. Quickly biting your tongue so you wouldn't get weird looks from the grin plastered on your face. Then your mind traveled to other places as you imagined yourself ‘thanking’ Joel for the ride.

“Thank you for the ride, Joel. However can I thank you?”

“Aw you don't need to thank me sugar, just seeing your pretty face is thanks enough.”

Your hands reach over and lightly grip the middle of his thigh, rubbing back and forth. Your eyes glossing over with lust as you glance at him.

“Are you sure? I could help you with something in return.”

You watch him closely, grinning as his Adam's apple bobs, swallowing thickly. You peer down at his jeans and see his evident excitement growing in his jeans, you bite your lip as you boldly cup him through his denim’s. He begins panting, a growl forming in the back of his throat, both a warning and dare to keep going.

You move so you are more parallel, facing Joel and begin to slowly unzip his jeans. You shuck his jeans halfway down his thighs. Your mouth subconsciously waters, looking at his hefty size straining through his black boxers. You finally reach out and grab him through his boxers. Joel's head falls back against his head rest, a hiss passing through his teeth.

You smile as you take his weeping cock out from its restraints. His girthy size, uncovered elicits a small gasp from you, to which he grins crookedly at. Before you let intimidation get the best of you, you reach out and start stroking his cock, your fingers barely touching where they meet around his width, before your thumb comes to swipe along his slit, shiny with pre-come.

“Don’t tease baby.” he softly growls before repeating it in a softer tone. “ Please don’t tease me baby.”

You look up at him with your doe eyes and mock a frown. Which immediately upturns when your hand quickly fastens it’s strokes, granting a soft moan from Joel's lips. He screws his eyes closed, tightly, relishing in the feel of your soft hands gripping him tightly, milking his pleasure.

The sounds of his growls turned whimpers as you bring him closer to his high spur you on with pure determination. You lower your body till your tongue makes contact with his tip, licking around the salty dark red head. Joel’s body jolts slightly, the muscles in his thighs tensing for a moment. You smile to yourself from how sensitive Joel is as you slip his tip past your lips.

“Fuck…” He quietly whispers.

His chest rises up and down rapidly, and he wills himself to open his eyes so he can see the beauty before him. He swears he nearly comes as he makes eye contact with you, your pretty eyes boring into his own, as you take him deeper into your mouth. His big hand comes up to cup the back of your head, resting gently on your scalp. You moan around him at the sweet, comforting gesture.

You can tell he is holding back the urge to buck his hips and fuck your face, the thought which makes your panties continue to grow wetter. But for now you're glad he is letting you take control, letting you thank him. You grip his length a big tighter and stroke what can’t fit into your mouth faster, letting your head lower till his tip touches the back of your throat. You try to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.

He mutters curse words softly to himself, trying to fight off his nearing orgasm, wanting to feel you hot, wet, perfect mouth around him long as possible, a feeling he could easily get used to, get addicted to. His thumb comes to brush away a stray tear that falls down your blushed cheeks.

“Fuck…Fuck look so pretty like this darling…taking my fat cock down your throat.”

You can tell he is teetering on the edge as usually quiet Joel is replaced by the Joel who speaks filthy words endlessly into the air.

“Fuck your such a good girl, sucking my cock so damn good for me.”

“You're too good at that sweetheart, sucking the goddamn soul out of me.”

You moan around his cock at his praise, your other hand reaches down to play with his balls.

The combined stimulation is enough to send him over the edge. Joel pants, whines and moans as you work him through his high, eventually pulling away when he hisses from oversensitivity.

Your daydreams are caught short when your boss calls out to you, telling you to go down to storage and get something. You literally shake your head trying to get rid of the dirty fantasies that stain your mind. God forbid anyone could read your mind.

You try and stop thinking about Joel the rest of the shift to which you surprisingly succeed. You do end up with your hand down your pyjama shorts later that night, softly mewing out Joel's name into the quiet late night. Oh how you couldn't wait for another rainy day.

******

#pedro pascal characters #smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller smut #tlou hbo #the last of us #tlou smut #the last of us hbo #joel x reader #joel the last of us

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