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seventeenpins · 9 months

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triptych - pt ii

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: after a shitty day, the man you've been chatting with all evening brings you back to his place only for you to discover he lives with his brother, an old flame of yours. they both fuck you. pre-outbreak. 18+

warnings: ooof i know i'm gonna miss something but here goes! multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy eating, dick sucking, ass eating/ass play, anal, joel miller is an ass man, double penetration, it's literally just porn there is so little substance here it's shameful, probably not incest but maybe a little??? like the brothers aren't into each other but their balls kinda touch so i'll leave that just in case..., light spanking, creampie, light breeding?, pls tell me if i'm missing anything important

a/n: wowowow i cannot believe how fuckin lovely y'all are, i hadn't been writing for years but i certainly never received so much feedback. thanks for reading and interacting and being part of such a cool and deeply horny community 😅 my asks are always open and i'd love to take on some requests! thank u to those who've sent some so far, i'm working on them now. besides requests, upcoming fics include a follow-up to bad girl and a vampire au 💕

also, thank you for indulging in this pairing!! (grouping?) i feel like a lot of threesome fics are very pro-joel with tommy cucking, and though they're fucking excellent, i wanted to give tommy some love and an equal place at the side of his incredibly hot brother.

check out part i

when you'd first sat down at that grimy dive bar, never in a million years would you have anticipated the scene that was unfolding in front of you now.

“shit," tommy says, "she looks so nice down on her knees for us, huh joel?”

joel looks feral as he stares you down. "such a good girl for us,” he agrees, “but we gotta see if that mouth can do more than talk.”

he's holding your wrists behind your back, while tommy grips a firm hand through your hair and unbuckles his belt with the other.

"open up, baby," tommy says, and presses one finger into your mouth and then another. he gently strokes his fingers in and out of your mouth, pressing into your tongue, slowly going deeper and deeper till you're sure you can feel the digits at the back of your throat. you can feel that you've started to drool a little, and tommy lets out a little groan at the discovery.

"you think you're ready for me?" tommy asks, and you nod.

in one smooth motion, his cock is springing from his boxers and the head is pressing gently at your lips.

feeling just the tip in your mouth, you already know your jaw is gonna hurt tomorrow. you relax your jaw and open wider, and tommy makes a slightly strangled noise that you take as a great sign.

as he fucks into your mouth, your eyes begin to water and tommy notices, brushing the tears away.

"you're takin' it so good," joel lavishes his praise on you and you never want it to end, "such a good girl, aren't you? keep that throat nice and open for my brother, won't ya? i know you wanna relax into it, baby, let him see just how much you love havin his dick down your throat."

it makes you moan, his words making you almost uncomfortably wet. tommy keeps thrusting down your throat, hips occasionally stuttering.

"shit, honey-" tommy says, and chuckles at your whine when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, "you're suckin' it so good, i need a break or i'm gonna come in that pretty mouth a whole lot sooner than i mean to."

joel drops your wrists and backs up to the sofa.

"why don'tcha sit on my lap, darlin'?" he grins, and pats on his inner thigh, his cock visibly straining in his jeans, a little damp patch visible where you're sure the tip is.

"only if you take your pants off," you say, and joel's eyebrows shoot up.

joel considers. "fine, but we're gonna work you up real nice before you get to sit on anyone's cock.

once you're sat on joel's lap, his cock straining against his boxers, tommy’s kissing you with such frenzied passion you feel dizzy. the sensation is only heightened when joel runs a knuckle down your spine, dragging over each vertebrae, massaging and tantalising. then both hands are grabbing at your waist and over your hips as if mapping you out. it’s not overtly hungry, not yet, but there’s a sensuality to it you didn’t quite remember from your brief and ill-fated encounters with joel years back. you're suddenly hit with a pang of sadness that you never stayed in touch. you would've liked to see him get his first grey hairs. instead it feels like you hit fast forward and jolted ahead.

joel's close behind you and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he pulls down the neckline of your top and licks a line along the hollow of your collarbone and back up to your ear, and the drag of his tongue is delicious. he nibbles on your earlobe and the sensation draws an obscene moan from your lips.

tommy’s close to you, too, his big hands cupping your jaw as he kisses his tongue deep into your mouth, running it along your teeth. his cock is still hanging out from his jeans, thick and hard, and you don't try to disguise the way you stare at it as you look him up and down.

"you've got far too many clothes on, sweetheart," tommy grins, and you pull off your top. before you can unhook your bra, joel's already unfastened it and is helping you pull it off.

tommy drops to his knees now, licking and sucking at your nipples, as joel unbuttons your pants, unzips them, and helps you lift your hips to yank them off of you.

the graze of tommy's teeth against the sensitive flesh of your breast makes you whimper and rut up on joel's thigh, and the brothers both laugh at your desperate noises.

"shit, she's needy, ain't she?" joel teases as he grips your waist with one hand and lets the other drag down to your panties, holding you in place while he starts to rub his fingers along your slit through the damp fabric.

he tugs at the band of your lace panties and ponders for a moment. "you partial to these?" he asks, and you shrug, "not particularly".

"good," joel says. that's all he needs to hear before he's tearing them apart and dropping the tattered fabric aside.

"well now you're just putting on a show," you tease, and he laughs but doesn't disagree. he just strokes a finger along your folds.

"i think you're a girl who likes a show," he tells you as he gathers up a little bit of your slick and slides it along your pussy. "now, what else do you like, darlin'? you want me to play with your lil clit? or just finger fuck you?"

"both," you whine, "any of it. all of it, please-"

he teases a finger into you very gently, just a little press that goes a little deeper each time he pulls it out and presses back in, till you realise he's sinking it in all the way to the hand with each thrust.

right as he adds another finger, to your surprise, tommy drops to his knees. he spreads your thighs wider and looks up for a moment, and you think you can feel joel nod behind you. that's all it takes, and tommy dives in. joel thrusts his fingers into you more urgently as laves kisses on and around your clit. he deepens it, pressing harder, flicking his tongue furiously along your swollen nerve endings and there's enough sensation that you know you won't last long.

"yes, that's it," you cry, and now it's your turn to grab tommy by the hair and press his face right where you need it the most. you're grinding up on his tongue while joel steadily continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, and you know you couldn't be quiet even if you tried.

"fuck," your words sound more like sobs now and you really don't give a shit, "keep going, just like that, joel you can go harder, tommy yes, lick my clit like that, i'm gonna- i'm gonna come-"

"good girl," joel talks you through it, "letting us take care of you like this. you need us to fuck you stupid, don'tcha? you're gonna leave here in the mornin' all stretched open, feeling us deep inside ya for days, huh?"

his filthy words are all you need to teeter over the edge- "fuuuck!" you scream, and you're positively panting now, verging on hysterical. you know joel can feel your pussy clench around him, you're so wet you're worried you've ruined joel's jeans, and you're so overstimulated that you can't speak more than a syllable or two at a time.

"oh you come so pretty," tommy says, pulling away from you to speak. you can see the way his lips are glistening with your slick before he kisses you on your inner thighs, peppering the soft skin with attention.

then, your eyes practically roll back in your head as he dives back in.

joel hasn't stopped fingering you, either, and once tommy's mouth is back on you, joel presses his fingers back into you more deeply again.

"shit, it's too much, i don't think i can take another this quick-" you try to say, but joel shushes you.

"i can already feel it coming," joel tells you, "can feel how your thighs are trembling, how you're already clenching down on me."

you're treading dangerously close to uncomfortably overstimulated, but you're also so completely turned on, you barely care. if you're gonna die in pursuit of a nut, so be it.

"fuck, you're right-" you tell joel, and tommy moans into you letting delicious vibrations pulse through you, and that sends you over the edge again.

you thrust and writhe and rut against them both, and tommy shows you mercy this time, drawing back and letting you get a little relief from the overwhelm of sensation instead of keeping his mouth on you.

you need a moment to catch your breath, and both joel and tommy rub soothing circles into your skin, joel's hands on your hips and tommy's on your thighs, and it feels exquisite.

"that's it, sweetheart, that's it-" joel soothes, and though your breathing's evened out, you know your thighs are still shaking.

tommy's licking up the arousal from between your thighs as if cleaning you off, and he looks up at you with almost dopey, half-lidded eyes, grinning.

"you taste like heaven, honey," he says, and he looks almost as fucked out as you feel. all this from eating pussy, you wonder, and that's another point in the favor of tommy miller being a man who likes to take care of fine things.

"i think i'm gettin' jealous now," joel teases, "i might need a taste, too."

without another word, tommy kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on his tongue. joel tilts your head back to meet him, and he kisses the taste from your mouth, groaning as he does it.

the sounds they're both making are so fucking hot, you love how they emote. there's nothing as unsexy as getting fucked by someone who stays absolutely silent throughout, and hearing them as pathetic as you feel works you up even more.

"what do you need, sweetheart," joel asks, and he's running a finger along your swollen folds now, teasing and torturous.

"you want us to fuck your pussy and your mouth," he asks, and moves to stroke a finger along your cheek, "you wanna have a big cock on either end of ya?"

you shake your head and joel raises his eyebrows.

"tell us what you want, baby," tommy says, and joel drags his fingers back along your pussy before tentatively using his forefinger to circle your asshole.

"please, joel-" you realise you're begging and it draws a laugh from tommy.

"you're a naughty girl, aren't you?" tommy asks, and the way he's grinning tells you that he wouldn't want it any other way.

"wanna feel full of you, both of you-" you whine.

"you gotta tell us, else we won't know what you want," joel says. from his tone of voice, it's clear he knows exactly what you want, but you need to beg for it.

"my pussy. and my ass. wanna ride both of you, feel both of you, get fucked by both of you-"

"jesus christ," tommy moans, "i bet we can make that happen, huh, big brother?"

you turn around to look at joel and his pupils are so blown, his eyes look black.

"bedroom." joel says, and it isn't a request.

tommy scoops you up in his arms and follows joel to his bedroom.

"drop her right here," joel says to tommy, and you're deposited on the edge of the bed, joel kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"looks so pretty for us," tommy says, and he sits down in an armchair near the foot of the bed and starts stroking his aching cock.

you'd been so fucked out already, you almost forgot you'd done almost nothing to take care of them. tommy's cock looks almost red and angry, and joel's is still tucked into his boxers, but the damp spot is spreading and it looks so thick through the fabric.

"let's get you ready for us, sweetheart," joel says, and without any more warning, he hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you up, legs spread, knees hanging over his shoulders. "i'm gonna eat this cute lil asshole, baby," he says and spits on your tight hole before rubbing his thumb gently against it, spreading the saliva.

he teases you with his tongue a little, testing it before pressing it flat and licking along it. you moan, and he growls against you.

you learn very quickly that joel miller is an ass man.

he eats ass like he was made for it, growling into you, spit dripping down his chest as he keeps your legs propped up on his shoulders, your thighs held in place with one arm. you're gasping through your moans and joel is drawing circles around your hole now, popping a finger into his mouth, and tentatively pressing it into the tight ring of muscle. it's fucking animalistic and you don't think anything could possibly make this better, until you notice the moans coming from tommy and the wet sounds of him furiously fisting his cock.

you're already fucked out from your first orgasms that you're practically boneless and limp, totally relaxed in a way you didn't often get. it made the feeling of joel fucking his fingers into you more glorious, building you up in a way you're not used to.

he makes quick (but thorough) work of opening you up, till he's got three fingers in your asshole and tommy's telling you how beautiful you look through his own choked moans, and you think you might lose your mind as you pant and grind and whine and joel isn't saying anything because his mouth is far too busy.

he pulls back and takes a good look at you. with someone else you might feel uncomfortably exposed but instead, you see hunger and desire in the brothers' and you know this is affecting them at least as much as it is you.

"i think we've got ya ready," joel hums, and he turns to look at his brother, "wanna check?" he asks, and tommy stands up and walks over.

you know you feel loose and ready, but the simple act of tommy popping a finger into your mouth to get it wet and then tracing it around your asshole, examining the preparation, drives you insane.

"i think she'll take it good for us," he grins and your heart flutters, "good girl," he says to you.

"you ready for us?" joel asks, and you nod.

"fuck me," you tell them.

joel lowers you down from his shoulders and tommy lays down on the bed before beckoning you.

"giddy up, cowgirl," he says with a wink, and you roll your eyes but take your cue.

you crawl up the bed, straddling his legs and then hovering over his cock which he's holding aloft.

"you good, baby?" he asks softly, and it's incredibly sweet in a way that makes you want to eat him up alive and also get fucked within an inch of your life by him.

"fuckin great," you tell him, and you pull him into a deep kiss before relaxing yourself over his cock, letting the head press into your pussy and sinking down onto it.

"jesus christ," he chokes out, and he sounds so desperate you can't help but fucking down on him, your ass slapping as you, move, his cock pressing so fucking deep into you and then you feel joel approach you from behind his hands gently running over your asscheeks and you know he's feeling the way your flesh bounces as you get off on his brother's cock. then, his hands are off of you, you hear the squirt of a lube bottle, and suddenly joel's thick lubed tip is pressing against you.

you try to thrust backwards towards it, but almost pull off tommy's cock fully, and it's like you're trying to ride both ends of a dick seesaw.

joel notices your frustration, laughing as you writhe.

"patience," he says, and delivers a sharp smack to your ass that thrusts you deeper onto tommy's cock. then, you can feel joel pressing into you, inch by inch.

once his cock head is fully sheathed in your tight ass, you take a moment to breathe before you start to find a rhythm that'll get all of you off at the same time. it takes a moment, and a few adjustments by all three of you, but before you know it, you can feel tommy brushing against your cervix and joel fully fucking into your asshole, practically rearranging your guts. with each rough thrust, they're fucking into you as one.

you're all moaning, gasping for breath. the slapping of skin against skin is delicious, and you're certain joel's balls are smacking against tommy's and you're not sure if it's weird or the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

you feel so full, you feel so fucking full it's perfect, it's delicious, you wanna be split open like this for the rest of time, want to feel two fat cocks using your holes for their pleasure, for your pleasure, because it all just feels so fucking good.

"fuck," tommy says, and it's the first thing any of you have been able to vocalise for a minute, "i'm gonna-"

"come in me," you tell him, cutting him off and he shudders.

that's all he needed before it hits him and he lets out a deep groan and unloads deep into you. it sets off a chain reaction. you come next, clenching around tommy's cock and exploding with a sob, your entire body shaking uncontrollably, and that tips joel over the edge, too as you whine at him, "come in my ass, joel-" and then he makes a strangled noise and you feel his balls tighten and hips stutter and he's unloading in you, pulse after pulse of thick come.

you lay there, tommy beneath you and joel on top of you, their cocks still twitching inside of you. gently, you tap joel's hip and he grunts and rolls over, pulling out of you. you gingerly pull yourself off of tommy, and then immediately collapse between the two of them.

"well, shit," you say, so totally blissed out you're floating on a whole other level.

"jesus christ," tommy says, and then joel starts laughing and it's the best thing you've ever heard.

"you doin' alright, darlin?" joel asks, "we take good care o' ya?"

you nod, consumed with so much euphoria you can't use your words properly.

"good- good joel," you say, "good tommy," you pat them each on the thighs and joel snorts.

tommy pops off the bed for a moment and rummages around in the other room before coming back to ask, "need a hit?"

you nod and he places the joint between your lips and sparks it. you take a deep inhale and slow blink as you sit yourself up and look at both of them.

"let's clean ya up, darlin," joel says, and, as it turns out, tommy brought a washcloth as well as weed. and he had my priorities straight you think.

"if you want me out of your house," you tell them, "you'd better tell me now so i can call a cab. otherwise, i'm gonna pass out here in the next twelve seconds."

"i won't be here in the morning", joel tells you, "got an early shift, but as i recall, tommy's specialty is box pancakes and they sometimes turn out edible."

tommy playfully slaps at his brother, and then kisses your cheek. joel kisses your cheek, too. tommy cleans you up a little, and you fall contentedly asleep between these two beautiful men.

the last thing you think before you drift off is fuck that promotion, it's not such a bad day after all.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy x joel x reader #tlou fic #tommy miller smut #joel miller smut

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doll3tt33 · 2 months

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୨ৎ Kai Anderson SFW headcanons

Gonna start doing headcanons for the evans in between making bots cuz I’m bored lol. If you ever wonder how I perceive these characters while I make bots, then here you go!

A handful of these are just plain observations and maybe to some these are clear as day, but idk imma still include them either way

Warnings: misogyny.. duh, loaaads of Reddit mentions

• This might be indisputably obvious, but I feel like some ppl think of Kai as someone who always plans 10 steps ahead, which I personally don’t think so

Yes, he does have a goal in mind, but a lot of his “next moves” are just ideas that came to him in a fleeting moment. Of course, he’ll act as if he totally knew what he was doing this whole time, even though he was def freestyling 💀

I feel like calling him out on his lack of meticulous planning would be an absolute jab to his ego, and he’ll deny it big time

• Kai is the embodiment of what it means to be a pseudo-intellectual 😭😭. Like he isn’t stupid at all, no doubt about that (mans manipulated crowds). But his arrogant attitude, his shameless use of fallacies, AND the fact he’s a walking contradiction - all while trying to act like he’s the smartest guy in the room?? Bye-

Again, I think he’s smart but don’t tell me he doesn’t act like your average pseudo-intellectual guy who’d mansplain 24/7

• His tolerance to spicy food is actually weak, but he pretends like it isn’t. He could be coughing his lungs out from the tiniest hint of spice in his food, but he would refuse to drink a glass of milk to cool down. HES A MAN

• This is already kinda a given, but mans speech mannerisms is literally like the average Reddit comment section ((iykyk

I also feel like a rant he posted online has been made into a copypasta at some point lol

• Speaking of Reddit.. whenever he gets into an argument with another user on there (most likely a politically charged one), he’ll downvote every existing comment from that user and will proceed to do it to any of their future comments by keeping tabs on their account, all out of sheer spite

• He likes weird porn genres. Idk which ones exactly, but I just know they be really specific

• Says he likes submissive, obedient women whose sole existence is to serve him. But at the same time, he can’t stand people he deems as vapid, and would dispose of them once he begins to see them as more of a liability than an asset (especially if they’re just THAT annoying). He definitely would rather keep someone around who has more substance

• Kai would play devil’s advocate for any corrupt figure you could think of. He’s like… that guy

• This is also a given, but I’d like to stress that people don’t know how r/theredpill was his holy bible. The Kai we know today has applied all the must-know tips to his entire character and mastered the arts of misogyny 101

Oh and he has a bunch of motivational posts saved from there, and he rereads the crap out of them each time a “fEmAle” would piss him off

• If you knew Kai prior to his cult and were genuinely nice to him, he’d definitely have a teensy-weensy soft spot for you and would avoid killing you ((unless you end up in a situation like winter’s, cuz then…💀

You’d be like the Jean to his Patrick Bateman! 😭

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levis-nut-dump · 3 months

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~Break Away~

Description: Drug dealer ex boyfriend Connie tries to make you jealous.

TW: Drugs, gang, fluff, cursing

You never liked Connie Springer much. Since you were thirteen he was trouble in a small package and now you're twenty and he's trouble in a bigger package, which is why you weren't surprised when your six-month relationship was cut short because of his line of 'work'. You weren't too fond of being around a bunch of guns, drugs, and gangbangers every time you want to hang out with your boyfriend, you weren't cut out for that life. Not even two weeks later, Connie found someone who was.

You found the news out through a mutual friend of yours, Sasha Braus, she also hated Connie's work but knowing him as long as you have she knows just as well there's no pulling him from it.

"Already?!" you yelled.

Sasha jumped. "I mean, yeah. But that's ok, right? Your relationship was mainly physical and you don't like him that much anyway."

The truth is, you have grown to like Connie as a partner over the last six to seven months. You also found him sexy as you did dangerous. "Well... Whatever! Just how can he move on so quickly?! With Jackie nonetheless!" You grabbed your car keys and slammed your apartment door open.

Sasha jumped from the couch. "(Y/N) Where are you going?! He's around his people and Jackie's just as dangerous as he is! Don't do anything rash!" she begged.

"Fuck Jackie and FUCK Connie. I'm giving that prematurely grey jackass a piece of my mind!"

"Jackie?!"

"She can get in my way if she wants to. She doesn't mean shit to him. Connie's wanted me for years he didn't move on that fast. Jackie is just to make me jealous and it's not working." you say getting into your car.

Sasha crouched to talk to you in the passenger side window. "Are you sure about that?" she giggled.

"Are you coming or not?" you say with aggravation filling your body.

"Yes but only so I can keep my two best friends from killing each other. This is why we don't date in the friend group." Sasha said getting into the car.

You start the car on the way to Connie's corner. "You're dating Jean, who is in the same friend group." you point out.

"Jean who's not a gangbanger."

You flip Sasha off.

Finally, you get to Connie's corner hideaway. An old building he and his guys use to plan their moves. "Ok, so what's the plan? Do you have like a weapon or something or are we gonna take the sneaky app-" Sasha started.

You turned the car off and got out, slamming the door which alerted Connie around the corner as he smirked.

"Connie Springer!" you yelled turning the corner to Connie, his guys, and Jackie sitting on his lap. In front of them was a table full of guns, large bags of weed, and a white substance you didn't even want to know about, but you weren't scared, your ego was bruised. You weren't the violent belligerent type but when your pride was hurt no one was safe from your temper.

"Hey Connie." Sasha smiled and waved from behind you, fearful of the table that possessed at least three charges. Maybe Sasha's the only one exempt from your temper.

"Hey Sasha. (Y/N)." Connie grinned.

"Fuck he's so sexy." you thought. "You're kidding me, right? Jackie?"

Connie sighed. "We broke up babe. I moved on." he said cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah right. It would be more believable if it were with anyone but Jackie Fletcher." you scoffed.

Jackie got up and Sasha backed up. "And what's that supposed to mean? What's wrong with me?" Jackie asked putting her shoulder-length blonde hair into a ponytail and taking her earrings out.

"It means you have more STDs than Connie has warrants." you grit through your teeth.

Connie's boys laughed and this set Jackie off. "Bitch you better have the hands to back that mouth up." she said stepping closer

"My mouth isn't as 'trained' as yours but I bet my fucking hands are just as good hoe."

Jackie ran up and you don't know what happened but the next thing you knew you were on top of her punching her over and over.

"Guys take Sasha upstairs I'll take care of this." Connie ordered. As the guys were carrying out his command Connie went to pull you off Jackie. "Alright. Alright Tyson she's out!" he said finally getting you to your feet. You quickly turn around and push him. "The fuck (Y/N)?!" he yelled.

"What you want some too?" you asked, pushing him again.

"I'm not gonna put my hands on you (Y/N)." Connie said softly.

You push him again. "Why not?" You pushed him against the wall "Fucking pussy. Fight back." You slap him on his left cheek.

Connie stared at you with a hazel deadly glare that snapped you back to reality. Sometimes you forget just how scary he could be as he towers over you weighing two hundred all muscle. "You want me to put my hands on you (Y/N)?" he growled switching you against the wall faster than you can blink. "You come in here, yell at me in front of my guys, insult my girlfriend, then beat her unconscious. After that, you have the nerve to come at me?" He put your chin between his fingers and made you look him in the eyes. "You're so fucking sexy." Your lips smashed together in a sloppy kiss. You run your fingers through his short grey hair as he undoes your pants and drops them to the ground. With a small bite of your lip, Connie breaks from the kiss and peppers your neck.

For an hour, years of pent-up hatred and anger were released against that wall.

#aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #fluff #levi ackerman #levi aot #smut #anime and manga #anime art #jean kirstein #connie x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #Spotify

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selfishdoll · 6 months

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❛anything for you...❜ ━━ ft. nanami kento | resident evil inspired au.

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 SUMMARY. ━━ you, the precious daughter of an important scientist are rescued by the gentlemanly government agent, nanami kento. you’re a mission, nothing more.. right? (word count: 5248)

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 NOTE. ━━ this got much longer then i wanted it to, so the smut is towards the end— i’m sorry !! also excuses typos & grammar mistakes please.

“Nanami…. Nanami, my legs hurt.” The words crawled from your mouth in a long, annoying drawl— dragging behind the man that still walked tall and strong ahead of you. The two of you had seemed to walk for hours, clothes stained in disgusting substances that came from the bloodthirsty freaks that rushed towards you the second you entered their milky sights. You were tired, hungry, and felt disgusting. Your favorite flare jeans and pink top were ruined and you were sure the short, bohemian braids you had were caked with grime.

“My legs hurt!” You called again after the man’s silence, watching his shoulders fall in a sigh.

“Just a few more miles, we need to find somewhere to rest.”

You pouted, bringing your arms close. You definitely weren’t suited for this, this whole; staying alive while running away from the undead thing. You were fully prepared to drink yourself to death back at your hotel room, but unfortunately; fate had different plans.

You had to admit, it was courageous the way Nanami Kento burst into your room, shutting and securing the door behind him. With one glance to you he was mumbling something into the receiver situated in his ear, walking over and kneeling before you. In your drunken state he was carefully touching you, searching for injuries and asking if you felt okay. If you could stand, he was doting for a government agent.

After that you were stuck with him, or was he stuck with you? Either way, your father — the scientist that refused to replicate a cure unless his dear daughter was rescued — gave you explicit instructions to stay at his side at all, times. Doesn’t matter if you had to piss, shit, or change— you were to stay in his sight no matter what.

Overall, you would give your Osaka trip a solid two out of ten.

You groaned a bit as your face came in contact with his strong back, hurriedly placing a hand over your aching nose. “What’s wr—“ You moved around to see infront of your path, only for your heart to drop. There were three undead walking aimlessly between the wrecked cars, bumping into them on account of their lost senses. The smell was disgusting, let alone the way blood trickled from their mouths and other body parts. The way a human body still stood despite several bullet wounds in its chest was.. disturbing to you.

Your fingers came to clutch Nanami’s shirt, the man reaching an arm back as if to cover you. Whilst the other was placed on his hip, right where his pistol remained. “They haven’t seen us.. yet.” The man murmured, wary of being heard. His eyes peered around, searching for a way or some path— you quickly doing the same, fingers still crumbling his stained dress shirt.

Finally his body turned, glancing at you. “We’ll have to go around that building..”

“What? Nanami you have a gun! Just aim right—“

“I rather not risk alerting more infected nearby.” He spoke, watching you carefully. You sucked your teeth, arms crossed but nodding. That did make sense, you have to admit. No wonder you were the mission and he was the agent.

Nanami straightened his body, reaching for your wrist gently. “Come on.” He spoke, leading you slowly. With each step his and your eyes were darting in front of you and back to the three infected still walking around aimlessly. You flinched a little as your foot pressed against something far too squishy, far too wet— your hand pressing against your mouth to cover your small disgusted squeal.

A squeeze to your wrist quickly diverted your attention, spotting Nanami turned to you with a serious expression. “Focus on me, (Y/N).. It’s alright.” You slowly nodded at his words, coming even closer to his form as you continued towards and soon around the building.

Luckily there wasn’t any infected nearby, Nanami releasing your wrist once the danger was gone. Despite this the man was still wary, looking around every so often to assure nothing was sneaking up on you. You kept your arms wrapped tight around yourself, copying Nanami’s movements.

Though, your head began to hurt a little from the constant back and forth.

You turned forward, lips pressed together before speeding up to walk beside him. “So.. did you ever imagine this would happen? You know.. some type of apocalypse?”

Nanami glanced at you for a moment before his gaze moved forward, a soft breath escaping him. “No.” He spoke simply, continuing his powerful strides that you struggled to keep up with. You nodded slowly, glancing down for a split moment whilst simply caressing your skin.

“Ever thought you’d have to save a scientist’s drunk daughter?”

Despite how little it was, a breath of amusement escaped the man, shaking his head. “No.” He answered again. You gave a weak smile, arms falling to your sides shortly after.

“Do you.. regret saving me?”

No more words were spoken for a few moments, the only sound being your shoes pressing into the Earth below. You took this badly, heart beating hard against your chest as your teeth tugged onto your bottom lip. You’ve always spoke too much for your own good, a trait you’ve hated since it developed. Fingers twitched nervously, eyes dancing about the ground as if suddenly interested in the blood stained pavement.

Your eyes peeled away, however— the moment you heard Nanami release a breath.

“No.. and it’s not because I was assigned to rescue you.”

His words caused confusion to bloom within you, head tilting to glance at his expressionless face. You didn’t know this man, his goals or what he did before he came to save you. For all you know he could be lying.. possibly falsifying your father’s voice or something crazy. Anything for some cash. Yet his words, you could tell the man was genuine; simply from his tone and posture, he meant it.

“Why?.. You have no obligation to me.” A cynical chuckle escaped you, glancing down at your feet once more. “I doubt anyone would give you any grief if you left me on the side of the road.”

You flinched as his footsteps came to a sharp halt, body turning to face you. His gaze settled onto your features, a hardened stare that caused you to look away once it became too much. Finally, Nanami spoke; “If you’re looking for me to call you useless or a mistake, I will not. You are neither of those and thinking of yourself as such is counterproductive.” Nanami stepped closer, causing your breath to hitch and eyes to widen. “We will continue down this path, together— until I bring your father his daughter back in one piece.” His eyes softened for a split second, head tilted to the side as he took you in. “Okay?”

You slowly nodded, gulping thickly the moment his eyebrows rose. “Okay.” You murmured, watching him nod back and turn forward once more. Your shoulders fell, hand pressed against your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat. For the first time in days, a little genuine smile lifted your lips.

You two continued to walk for what it seemed like hours, taking short breaks between buildings; you seated on some random trash can or barrel whilst he stood against the wall— glancing to assure nothing popped out.

As the sunset the two of you ended up in a neighborhood, your eyes focusing on the houses; a small grimace taking over your features. The crashed cars, the bloody bikes.. it was all too much. You could just imagine the way families rushed to get away, only to not make it farther then their doorstep.

You quickly shook your head, deciding such thoughts will only depress you further. And whilst attempting to pull those thoughts from your mind, a single raindrop fell onto your skull.

Your head turned to the sky, watching as the clouds darkened and more rain began to fall. You groaned softly, hand rising as if to cover the pouring water. Which of course, proved useless.

“Nanami,” You called, catching up to place a hand to his back. “We have to find somewhere to stay, this rain will make it harder to see.” You heard a soft grunt above the rain, watching his wet head turn back and forth in search of secure shelter. Your tongue clicked however, annoyed by how long the search was taking.

You looked around, soon lifting your hand towards a small white house that looked untouched. “There!” You huffed, legs moving before the man could reply. You made your way over, Nanami on your heels; sighing once you made it on the porch, covered by the rain. When you went for the doorknob, Nanami’s hand covered your own— causing your eyes to snap over to his face.

“Don’t run off like that again.” He spoke, glancing down at you seriously. You slowly nodded, hand loosening from the doorknob as the man came to stand in front of you. With a deep breath he turned it, pleasantly surprised it was unlocked.

And another reason Nanami wished to go first.

Lifting his flashlight, the man shined it inside the house; scanning the area for any sign of danger. Despite how untouched it looked from outside, it was certainly different in the actual house. Dried blood was caked on the hard wood floors, decorative carpet upturned and a mess whilst the couches were angled oddly. A struggle had clearly happened.

You clung to Nanami as you passed through the threshold, the man closing and locking the door behind you. He breathed a bit, turning to you whilst passing you the flashlight. “The living room looks secure, but I’ll check the back rooms.”

“What, alone!?” You hissed softly, reaching for him the moment he turned to leave. “We have to stick together.”

Nanami carefully grabbed the hand holding him, lifting it away as he looked at you gently. “It’ll be quick, I promise. Just sit on the couch and scream if you need me.” He coaxed you slowly towards said furniture, watching you sink into the surprisingly soft cushion. Noting your discouraged expression the man gave a gentle smile, hand rising to squeezes your shoulder. “It’ll be alright (Y/N).”

You nodded slowly, watching as he grasped a much smaller flashlight from his pocket, heading towards the back of the house. You turned forward, standing from the couch and walking towards the fireplace against the wall. The bright light shined on the framed pictures, pretty decor, and knick knacks lining the top of it. Your eyes focused on the little family portrait, sighing softly. You imagined they got out, all of them; and they were somewhere safe, together.

But, of course, that was wishful thinking. There was no way they survived.

Your hands curled around the frame, pushing it facedown. You moved on towards the dining room, gaze zoning in the candles settled in the middle of the red decorative cover. You picked one up, hurriedly looking around and smiling the moment you found a lighter. Placing the flashlight on the table, you picked the last three candles and lighter, heading back to the couch.

You placed the candles onto the coffee table while sitting down, lighting them one by one. They weren’t too bright but it was enough, definitely better then the flashlight.

Once you heard heavy footsteps heading in your direction you turned, smiling up at the man who approached the couch. Your eyes zoned in at the pile of sheets and blankets, the man placing it on the cushion beside you. Once done he hooked a finger behind him,

“The first bathroom’s water is working. You could probably wash up.”

A shower! The way your eyes sparkled you would have thought he said a helicopter was coming to grab the two of you. But no, this was much better. The thought of ridding yourself of three day grime and smell was enough to nearly bring tears to your eyes. You didn’t care if you had to pull dirty clothes the following morning, you just wanted to feel a little clean.

You hopped to your feet, following the man once he turned to the back of the house. Approaching the bathroom, you pushed the door opened, sighing heavily and glancing around. There wasn’t much, a simple half opened bottle of body wash and a towel. But, it was enough.

“I’ll make some food for when you come out. Don’t take too long.”

“Okay!”

Despite his words you spent a good thirty minutes under the water. You didn’t even care if it was cold, it just felt so good washing it all away. The dirt, the smell, and much more. You nearly shed a tear, given this was the only peace you’ve felt in days. After scrubbing your body and rinsing for about the fourth time, you shut the water off, exiting the tub and wrapping the towel right around your body. You grabbed your pile of clothes, heading out of the bathroom and towards the living room.

Nanami turned the moment he heard your footsteps, eyes quickly falling to the ground when he noticed your state. “Your food.. it’s, right here.” He spoke, hearing you walk around — dropping your dirty clothes in a corner along the way — sitting on the cushion beside him.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, a simple plate of rice, beans, and unidentifiable meat. But, you were grateful. You grabbed the plate, scooping some in your spoon and taking a bite. It wasn’t that good, the rice a little undercooked and meat having little flavor. But again, you were grateful.

Nanami watched as you ate, coaxing you to slow down so you didn’t choke; a little smile tugging his lips when you didn’t listen, resulting in a few coughs to escape you. He grabbed a water bottle near by, passing it to you so you could take a few sips. During this the man stood, wiping his pants.

“I’ll go take a shower now, you should try to get some sleep. Also— I think the couch pulls out.”

You gave a small okay, watching as he walked around the couch towards the bathroom. You placed your water bottle down, leaning against the couch and gliding your hand across your towel covered stomach. A small sigh escaped you, lips curled. For once, you could actually get some nice sleep.

No leaning against dirty walls, the rain drowned out whatever groaning infected were nearby, and you were sure the couch would be nice and plush.

Rising from your seat, you pushed the coffee table closer to the fire place, turning to grab the cushions and toss them away from you. Your eyes zoned in at the bar, pulling it— turning the couch into a pullout with some effort. “Finally.” You breathed, walking over to the pile put to the side, grabbing a sheet and flinging it over the bed.

Once satisfied you grabbed a blanket, — leaving a sheet for Nanami — placing it on the bed. You glanced down at your attire for a moment before a small screw it, went through your mind; pulling your towel off and letting it bundle on the floor. Crawling onto the bed, you pulled the blanket over your body.

Using your arms as a makeshift pillow, you sighed a bit, eyes closing and sinking into the mattress. Maybe you could convince Nanami to stay for another day. You could probably find a vehicle amongst the many houses. More supplies? These thoughts lulled you to sleep, exhaustion covering your body as darkness took over your vision.

You don’t know what time it was when you woke up, or why you woke up exactly. You planned to sleep the entire night but your body unfortunately had different plans. Tugging your blanket closer to your body, you turned; spotting the candles still lit, wax collecting on the coffee table. Your gaze carried, jumping a little when you spot Nanami rested in the loveseat, chest uncovered with a sheet tied loosely around his waist.

That wasn’t the problem, his dark eyes boring into your own was.

“Have you been awake this whole time?”

Nanami seemed to snap out of his trance, adjusting in the seat as he nodded slowly. You pursed your lips a bit, sitting up whilst pressing the blanket against your chest. “You could have joined me here. I doubt the seat is comfortable.”

“That would be.. inappropriate.”

“How so?”

Nanami shook his head, glancing away from you as he again— adjusted himself in that damned seat. You bit the inside of your cheek, landing back against the bed with a huff. “There’s no way you can effectively protect me without sleep, Nanami. You’ll be dragging like those walking corpses outside.”

Your words lingered in the air for a moment, a silence covering the room before you heard a deep sigh escape the man. He lifted his body from the chair, waltzing over to you. You smiled a bit, scooting away to give him some room, feeling the mattress sink in beside you as he laid down.

You turned to face him, fingers clutching your blanket as you took in his form. You didn’t want to admit was a delightful sight, the man sculpted nicely; clearly a disciplined individual. Your gaze lowered, shamelessly tracing his v-line peeking out from under the thin sheets. Luckily his eyes were closed, or else you would be embarrassed.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me, (Y/N).”

You flinched, watching his eyes blink open and stare at you. “Sorry.” You murmured, gripping the blanket a little more. A silence passed between the two of you, simply laying there and glancing at each other.

You finally broke the silence, “You know.. this is kind of romantic.” You watched him lift a thin eyebrow, feeling your chest pound and cheeks warm. “The candles, the laying together..”

Nanami sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yes, and the undead walking outside adds a nice touch.”

“Exactly!” You spoke, a soft giggle escaping you shortly after. You leaned your cheek against the back of your hand, smiling sweetly at the man. The warmth in your face traveled to your stomach as he continued to stare at you, discreetly stealing gazes to your covered form. “I think.. if we met on different circumstances, I would have loved to go on an actual date with you.”

The man blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a bit. You wondered if you made him uncomfortable, given he stiffened and quickly glanced away from you. You opened your mouth to apologize, only for the man to cut you off;

“I would have loved to take you out on one.”

You felt the warmth within you grow hotter, teeth pressing down against your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to his arm, reaching over; gasping as the man rose to grasp your hand. The distant between you shortened as Nanami drew closer, your body sweltering at this point.

“Nanami..”

“Kento.. call me Kento.” He breathed, leaning to plant his lips against yours in an experimental kiss. The moment you didn’t pull away he was all in, hand releasing your wrist to instead glide up your exposed arm to the back of your neck, collecting it and tilting you how he liked. Your hand clung to his arm, breathing softly as the kiss deepened.

You found yourself turning onto your back, the man hovering above you, large frame covering you. The kiss continued, you gasping softly the moment his tongue entered your mouth; delicately playing and sucking at your own wet muscle. Your hips rose, feeling him through the thin sheet still wrapped loosely around his waist. The man groaned in response to this, hand sliding around to gently hold your throat.

Pulling away, Kento glanced down at you, forehead pressed against you. “I shouldn’t..” Turmoil warped the man, struggling. He wanted nothing more to kiss you again, to make you feel better then you have in the past few days. And yet, he knew this was wrong. You were his mission, someone he had to protect, nothing more. Growing attached.. wanting more, would prove disastrous.

But, even as the reasonable thoughts entered his mind, they faded the moment he looked at you. Your lips pressed together, eyes shining up at him, waiting ever so patiently for his next more. Your warm hands were placed on his arms, gripping them as if afraid to let go. Nanami struggled, he did— feeling himself ready to lift away from you.

Unfortunately, a soft, sweet “Kento” escaped your plump lips, rendering the logical side of his brain useless. Without thinking he was leaning down again, planting his lips against yours harsher then before. The action caused a soft moan to escape your throat, nails digging into his skin whilst bliss covered your body.

Lips moving, hands moving; his fingers curling on the edge of your blanket, slowly tugging it down your form to reveal your naked body to him. Kento pulled back, a glossy string connecting your lips together as his eyes cascaded down your form.

Your face flushed, reaching to grab his cheek. “Don’t stare so much..” You murmured, gasping as his hand ghosted down your body, fingers sinking into your hip.

“Why not? Every inch of you deserves to be appreciated.” The man breathed, leaning back on his hunches, hands faltering to your thighs and spreading them to wrap around his waist. “You’re beautiful.. I thought so the moment I saw you in that hotel room.”

You shook your head with a small smile, glancing up at him. “When I was drunk and obnoxious?”

Nanami smiled at you, hand squeezing the inside of your thigh. “Yes.” He confirmed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your collarbone. The feathery affection trailed down your heated skin, arousing soft breaths and gasps to escape you. Kento’s lips found your right nipple, sucking gently, pushing closer when you jumped.

The pleasure trickled down between your thighs, his hand grasping your absent breast. His thumb pressed against your hardened nipple, tweaking it between his fingers all while continuing to suck and tongue the other. Your hips rose in search of friction, which Nanami rewarded, pressing a thigh between your legs for you to grind on.

Your eyes pinched close, melting into the bed as your hands gripped at his hair. As good as that felt you wanted, needed more. You ground against his thigh, fingers slipping through his previously washed hair. “Kento, please..”

He pulled away from your chest with a soft pop, all while his fingers continued to move on the other. “Use your words, princess. What do you want?”

“More please— fuck..” You hissed softly as his thigh pressed right up against your center, gripping him even closer. “Wanna feel you, Ken. I need you so bad.” You whimpered, glancing up at the man.

Kento swore softly, taking in your beautiful expression. You were so open, laid out for him perfectly and begging for him. Such an image got him hard, tip leaking with excitement. He released your chest, dragging his kisses lower and lower until he met your mound.

Despite how eager he was to give you what you craved, he refused to leave you unprepared. The thought of hurting you outweighed his lust greatly.

So, the man used two thick fingers to spread you open, tongue gliding across your little bud. The action caused a gasp to fall from your lips, thighs threatening to close as he continued the pleasurable treatment, rubbing and sucking your clit raw. Your hands gripped at his hair tightly, rising your hips to push your pussy into his face more, shamelessly moving your hips.

Nanami enjoyed it all, hands falling to your ass to grip, face flush against your heat. His tongue lapped up your arousal, dragging his tongue in places that made you see stars. The moment you felt two fingers prodding at your wet entrance however, you were lost; crying out as the thick digits sunk into you.

He curled them, pushing up against your velvety walls and hitting a sweet spot that made stars collect in your eyes. Desperately, your hips shook, moans rising in pitch as you felt your stomach clench from the pleasure. “Kento.. ah—“ You cried out, feeling his lips wrap around your hard clit and suck, harshly.

Little tears threatened to spill over, legs closing around his head as a string of moans escaped you. Moments passed before you came, clamping down on his fingers and painting his face with your mess. Nanami’s fingers continued to move through your high, wrist flexing with each push and pull inside your sweet cunt.

Your legs shook, back arching as a soft overstimulated cry escaped you. “Mm— I can’t..”

Nanami pulled away from your clit, thumb quickly replacing his lips. His fingers scissored inside you, stretching and prepping you carefully. “I know you can, almost there pretty..” The man mused, pace quickening, ignoring your smaller fingers clinging to his wrist. The soft squelches of your wet cunt would have embarrassed you if you didn’t feel so good, head pressed against the bed as melodic moans escaped you.

A few more thrusts of his fingers passed before you came again, tainting his digits in your mess. Only this time he removed them, hand rising to lick off his arousal as if your taste was a delicacy. To him, it was, having half a mind to dive back between your legs for more.

Instead, Nanami hovered above your body, forearm pressed above your head whilst his forehead rested against yours own. He warmed the moment your hands dragged to his shoulders, watching your eyebrows push together and a small whine escape you. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your lips, whilst his hand leaned down, tugging the thin sheet off his body.

Your legs rose to hang loosely on his hips, gasping as you felt his shaft glide through your folds. As you continued to kiss the man continued to rub himself against your pussy, coating himself in your arousal. You tried to wait patiently, knowing he wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried to rush him.

Once satisfied, Nanami leaning down to grab his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. Slowly, he sunk in; breathing as your sweet walls hugged his length. You whimpered from the stretch, scratching at his shoulders at the slight pain and pressure. Nanami was attentive, continuing to kiss you all while whispering soft words against your lips.

“So good for me.. taking me so well. Mm— relax.. fuck, relax— princess.” He stuttered a bit, eyebrows pinched close as his hips continued slowly. Soon enough he was all the way in, shuddering at the feeling. Nanami settled for a moment, allowing you to rest and catch your breath.

You huffed softly, eyes peering at where you two were connected and back to his face— him already staring at you. You gave a coy smile, warming the minute his hand brushed your cheek. Your hips rose to signal you were fine, Nanami breathing a bit but allowing his hand to fall to your hip.

Slowly, the man dragged his own back, allowing only the tip to reside inside of you. With a single thrust a sharp moan escaped you, bringing him even closer to your body. His slow, languid thrusts continued, allowing you to feel every inch of his length; dragging across your walls and splitting you open so nicely. Your eyes found the back of your skull, beautiful sounds escaped your raw throat, walls clenching with every single thrust.

Kento wasn’t any better, eyes closed as you consumed his body. You felt way too fucking good, to the point the man felt as if he would go crazy if he continued. The way you clung to him, your smell, and as he opened his— your expression, fuck.. the thought of you being nothing more than a mission left his mind quickly.

The man lowered, thrusting deeper as his gentle and slowness flew out the window, thrusts quickening. The new pace caused your eyes to fly open, harsh moans escaped you as your nails dug into his skin. “Kento, Kento—!” You whimpered out, feeling the man leaning down to press wet kisses against your neck. Your thighs locked around his waist, squelches of your messy cunt covering the room.

Your arousal trickled down his length, forming a sticky white ring around the base of his cock. Thrusting, ruining you, it didn’t take long for your stomach to clench, eyes glossy as you creamed all over dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck, breath fanning against his face as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Kento gritted his teeth, fingers digging into your plush skin. “So good.. fuck, you feel so damn good, (Y/N).“ He spoke on hushed breath, cock twitching as he felt his end approaching. Without thinking his hands were dragging under your thighs, pushing them up to press against your chest.

The new position pulled him deeper inside you, tip brushing your cervix with each thrust, the pain melting as the pleasure consumed you. You were rendered useless under him, trapped under his weight with no place to run. Like you wanted to anyway. Despite how sore you were, how absolutely fucked out you were, you didn’t care. Your eyes rolling back, incoherent babbles escaping you as he turned your brain to mush.

It was no surprise you were coming again, harsher then before; making a complete mess under you. Kento groaned at this, your pretty walls fluttering around him pushing him over the edge— driving himself deep and filling you up.

You whined softly, nails digging into him as he gave a few more pumps inside you, hips soon slowing down. Heavy pants entered the room, simply grabbing onto one another, as if scared to let go.

Soon, Kento regained his breath, gulping as the reality of the situation sunk into his mind. Not only did he have inappropriate relations with you, he finished inside. He should be upset with himself, pulling out and quickly cleaning up as if to elevate the consequences. Instead, as his eyes landed on your beautiful features; your sweet smile, how content you looked under him, his anxiety left. Any consequence he had to deal with, was worth it.

Kento, would deal with anything for you.

The man slowly pulled out, hissing softly as he watched his cum flow out of your pretty cunt. Hands smoothing across your thighs, Kento leaned down to kiss your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He promised, lifting from the bed and walking to the back of the house.

You eased your legs onto the bed, shivering at the slightly sore feeling. Despite this, your smile grew, turning onto your side and giggling a little to yourself.

This wasn’t an ideal situation at all. You a mission, him a government agent— together surviving against the undead outside. But, you wouldn’t have it any either way.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

#mani writes ━━ ★#mechahrt #black!reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x fem!reader #mdni #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento x fem reader

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rinbowaman · 8 months

Text

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER EIGHT

Warnings: uh...yeah....threesome. two stepbrothers (twins) fucking reader (y/n). Theres also breeding kinks, unprotected sex, some eskimo brother type shit (if you know what that means...you know.) but yeah..this is pretty much straight filth. which means next chapter (which is actually almost done and will probably be posted tomorrow) but lets just say this is the ....or one of the nastiest chapters in the series. MDNI18+

This chapter isnt too long but dont worry bc next one will be.

The words barely processed in your head as you felt your body being lifted off the couch. You breasts makes contact with Heeseung’s broad chest. With his hands swooping over your thighs and underneath, carrying you as Heejeong provides support by gripping your waist from behind, you subtly whimper out as you felt hands roaming all over your body, leaving no inch of you untouched. Heeseung’s lips gracefully leaves wet trails all over your front, while Heejoeng covers your back, mercilessly drowning you with an ocean of their saliva marking you. Pushing your lower back, causing your chest to lean forward inward towards Heeseung, Heejeong enhances your form as you bring’s your hips back, causing your rear to press up against his groin.

Heeseung leans back against the wall, leaving endless kisses on your throat and chin, all the while his hand glides below to unleash the monstrous form of his length to peek out from his jeans. Without breaking contact with your skin, he uses his tongue to draw out motions of circles and other patterns as he tastes you. Rubbing the tip in between your swollen folds, he releases a delightful groan into the nook of your neck. Forced to absorb the vibrations of his tone, your body trembles upon feeling the metronome of his voice shaking against you. Feeling at how moist and ready you seemed to be, considering Heejoeng’s earlier discretion in administering foreplay, Heeseung was unable to contain himself as he rushes to breach your walls.

“I promise, next time we’ll play around baby. For now, let me get it in….just this time. I need you….so bad…..fuck.” he breathes out into your ear while he rubs the nub of his tip back and forth, collecting the heated glaze of your body’s natural moisture emitting from your womanhood. The more he rubbed, the more wet you got, and so did his tip. Slipping inside, without any friction to hinder his entry, his throbbing length slides in nicely. With the natural lubricant from Heejeong's earlier performance, Heeseung's thick muscle became polished by his brother's load, along with your natural made spirits all mixed in together. Combining it with his own, you felt the slick and squelching clear substance, while being thrusted in and out of you at high momentum, become thick and ropy. It developed into a creamy, white consistency, and started to adhere to the skin right outside your entry and your inner thighs. The more he thrusted, the more viscid it became as glob of it ringed around the base of Heeseung's member.

Thrusting, pumping, and pushing, he reaches high into cavity, tearing walls, splitting flesh, and pulsates deep inside as he shoves himself deeper...and deeper. The pain could hardly be felt as the overwhelming sense of delectation hits the vitals of your gut and chest with a pounding notion. You felt as high as a kite, and invigorating. Each time he thrusted upwards and into you, you loss your breath through panting moans, all the while succumbing to the immense sensuality of the needlelike tingles that tapped your core, causing your body temperature to rise and your body to create more fluids, allowing him dig in faster, easier, deeper, and harder.

Cradling you as he grabs hold of your derriere, he pulls you in closer, holds you, and steadies you as he pumps upwards inside. The tip of his nose is leveled with the center of your throat, which he delightfully takes the opportunity to place tender pecks as he tilts his head to graze your neck with the taps of his lips. He breathes hard, and gasps his groans out in sync with your heaving moans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, grabbing hold of the black fitted t-shirt he adorned on his broad muscles as your body bounces up each time he propels inside. Swinging up, and pulled down, all in a repeated cycle, your body adheres to the pace as your breasts bounces vigorously, enhancing his instincts to go even faster, as the innate sensation and desire to breed with you takes altitude, stirring the emotions and lusts of his male anatomy to accomplish that deep desire.

He went on....and on...until finally.....

"ah fuck...." he groans into your neck, his hands squeeze and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as he pulls you down and holds you still, shoving his member deep as he releases. The oozing of his seed swims inside you as he keeps unloading every single bit of his future generation, loving the thought of them finding their way around in the deepest parts of you, traveling towards the one bit that would seal your fate with him and his brother. Despite your birth control methods, which he and Heejeong very well knew about, it did not deter away from their fantasy in creating children with you. Gritting his teeth and pressing those shiny pearly whites against your skin as he clenches his jaw shut from the immense sense of pleasure, he jerks upwards into you a few times to ensure that every single drop was emptied, before slowly pulling out and welcoming the cool air to greet the skin of his shaft. You felt yourself closing....just up until Heejeong grips your hips from behind and shoves his face into the back of your head. Inhaling the scent of your hair, he breathes in deeply as he breaches your entry. Just like Heeseung, he was smooth, thick, and rather long. Stroking with his own hand, he pumps up his member and gets the blood flowing as he rests the tip just in between your two folds.

Heeseung felt a bit weak in the knees, yet the moment he heard your soft whimpers echoing out of your pretty pursed lips from Heejeong's actions, Heeseung felt himself revitalized rather quick, and supported your weight in order for his brother to do his bidding.

Grabbing your arms, pinning them to your sides, he forces you to lean into him, causing your rear to extend outward, pressing tightly against Heejeong's groin. Kissing your hips, Heeseung provides a delightful distraction as he holds you steady, and Heejeong, without a moments notice, begins to enter. Feeling yourself stretching open once more, Heejeong slowly slides in, filling you up as the base of his cock grows thicker until finally, your taint makes contact with the flat surface of his pelvis, and he's all the way in. Moaning into Heeseung's mouth, you feel his grip tighten around your arms, as he holds you closer against his chest. With Heejeong's fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, he slowly pulls out, just until the layering fold of his tip reaches the end. At that moment, he slams right back in, causing you to jolt upward and in to Heeseung's deep kiss. One hard thrust, and that was all it took for Heejeong to go at a pace that rivaled Heeseung's.

Faster, deep, and hard, Heejeong's shaft becomes enveloped by the overwhelming warmth and softness of your walls. Groaning into the back of your head, his hands shift upwards and holds onto your waist, as he gains a solid grasp that allowed him to go in even deeper than before. Unable to take being silenced by Heeseung's oral performance, you break free as you gasp for air and your moans propel out, shouting into the wide open air as you whimper for mercy, while at the same time you whine for more.

"Ugh! Oh God! Fuck! oh my God please!!" you gasped out, unable to finish or formulate a clear sentence as your body rigorously bounces up and in towards Heeseung, as the elder brother relentlessly taps in from behind. The sound of your skin slapping against his groin and thighs as he rams into you, was barely heard among his wild groans and your pleading whimpers. Heejeong's moment was fierce, and uncontrollable. He was domineering and forceful as he shift his thumbs, extending them to graze over your cheeks and slightly lift them as he palms the smooth surface of your derriere. Watching as he pelts you mercilessly, he continues to adorn your pretty hair with the hot breaths of his growls, incorporating soft kisses to your ear from behind while Heeseung addresses the front side of your neck. The two men carry the weight of your frame as they shared the responsibility of holding you up, while fucking you into oblivion.

"Oh shit.....fuck......" Heejeong growls as he swoops a hand around your neck and pulls your head back into his mouth, where he too grits his teeth, clenches his jaw shut and buries vibration motions of his groans as he unleashes deep inside your cavity. With his load meshing in with Heeseung's, he too enjoys the image of his seed, swimming inside your flesh, along with his brother's.

"Oh....fuck." gasping for a bit of air, he holds you steady and regains his motivation from the swarming loss of energy as he watches Heeseung reach down and hold his shaft by the base, ready to enter inside you again......for God knows how long, you embraced the sensation of overstimulation, breeding, and being filled by both, Heeseung and Heejeong, as they took turns to swap out and watch each other fuck into you......

...........

"Fuck she feels so good..."

"Does it feel good baby?"

"Well fuck you every day...yeah? Just like this baby...you want that dont you?"

"Yeeeeeeesssss...you dooo......fucking tell us you like it."

"Come on baby, don't pass out on us yet, we still have more for you."

"Fucking dammit...you can take it so well. You're our perfect girl.....our princess."

"Scream Y/n."

................

One right after the other, you felt the swishing of their loads swirling deep within you. Your belly started to expand just a tiny bit from the amount of fluids that you were intaking as Heeseung and Heejeong released inside....again....and again.....and again.

"Ugh! N...no.....no more! I....I cant!.....It....its too much!" you cry out, beginning to feel your body in pausing the gushing of hot liquid as you feel yourself tired and surrendering from the pleasure turned soreness in between your folds.

"That right princess?" Heeseung taunts as he licks your throat from top to bottom.

"One.....last.....time....fuck!" Heejeong growls out as he cums inside. You lost count at the number of times they unleashed into you, though it was safe to say that the minimum was anything above four.

Finally feeling satisfied, the brothers cradle you in between their chests, trapping you in the middle as they lower themselves to a low seated position on the floor. With Heejeong's head resting on your shoulder, and Heeseung's face buries into the side your hair. Breathing deeply, the three of you welcomed the recomposition of gaining your breaths and singing out the gasping tones of pure satisfaction.

Wrapping their arms around you, you didn't bother trying to figure out whose hand it was that reached up and placed his thumb in between your teeth. Instead, you nibbled, sucked, and twirled your tongue around it as you feel yourself relishing in the fact that you were relentlessly fucked...by two men....your two step brothers....

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz@mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana , @heeshees@yumii0828 , @lprww, @mariji , @silcry @cutiejseong

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #enhypen smut #yandere drabble #yandere x darling #heeseung scenario #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung #heeseung au #heeseung enhypen #heeseung imagines

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lilibethwrites · 8 months

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Confessions of a Valyrian Opium-Eater

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader Mini Series

Summary: You meet a gloomy, handsome guy at an addiction support group meeting. He’s charming, he’s smart, and he’s plagued by the ghost of a lover past.

CW: Angst, eventual smut, smoking, drug use and addiction, abuse, toxic behaviour

Word Count: 3500

You can also find this on AO3

It only took you a year of your friends’ begging to admit you might have a problem. It took you another year to consider seeking help.

From the moment you woke up in the ER with a tube down your throat all the way to your stomach, you’d say it didn’t take you all that long to stand at the paved way of this stupid building with a terribly colourful pamphlet in your hand.

Begin your recovery today at All Addicts Anonymous!

You looked through the list again, scoffing at some as though it would make you feel better about yours. Sex and love addiction? Come off it. But then again, love might have killed more than food or drugs. People walked past you, all with their heads hanging down, in their inconspicuous outfits, blending in the crowd; you followed them into the building.

There was a plump woman at the door with the Substance Use Disorders banner plastered, smiling a big smile in her gaudy, flower-patterned dress. You wondered if anyone had bothered to tell her she was rather discouraging than welcoming, trying to hug everyone and making failed small talk.

“Don’t be shy, now. Welcome,” she tried to usher you in with a hand held out. “You’re not alone. You’re so brave for doing this… Have you got any questions before the meeting starts?”

Gods, would you mind if I bashed your head in, you wanted to ask. Instead, you gave her a tight, much-practised smile and shouldered past her. The room was about as carnivalesque as you’d expected. All walks of life were conflated with paper cups in their hands and regret in their eyes.

Your eyes fell on the table at the back with what you assumed were stale doughnuts, biscuits and coffee with a stack of dry creamer packets. Then, to the brooding man leaning against the wall next to it. With a hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and another wrapped around a cup, he was staring down at his boots. His straight, waxen hair cascaded down his shoulders and fell like heavy drapes on the sides of his face. You wondered who forced his hand to come to this charade of a meeting.

All the talk of bravery for taking the necessary steps and opening up went in at one ear and out at the other. Your eyes fell on each and every one around you as they spoke, one of them had a terrible haircut, the other ill-fitting clothes; the one that stayed silent as a grave the whole time commanded your interest the most. With one slender leg in slim black jeans over the other and his back to the wall, the guy was unmoving save for the slow leaning of his head from one side to the other. There was a pin on the lapel of his jacket, a milestone pin that proclaimed to the world how many months you’ve been sober. It was hard to make out the number, and as if on cue, he lifted his head and locked eyes with yours—or rather, an eye. You sharply turned your head away, but you assumed it only made you seem more… guilty of staring.

At least the woman was merciful enough to let you off the hook with a short introduction. Your name, your “battle”, then, it was monotone greetings and droning on and on about how brave you were again, how this step was half the battle won already. You tuned out the meeting after that, your own sob stories were enough for you.

The small garden outside the building was too muddy for anyone to bother stopping on their way out. You gave your back to the warm, slightly damp stones of the half wall and shut your eyes. The night breeze stung in your lungs, and you thought those meetings must’ve spiralled more than they’ve helped recover.

“You’re in my spot,” came a low, velveteen voice.

The guy in the back from the meeting stood so close, looking so terribly like a modern greaser that you had half the mind to laugh and another half to leer.

“Oh?” You looked around in a moment of distraction, and then, scooted to the side. It was a half-wall with plenty of space for a lithe guy to lean on.

“Was only pulling your leg,” he mumbled, and the street lamp illuminated the upturn of the corners of his shapely lips.

He fished out a half-empty, half-crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and tapped a lighter out of the packet. He held it out to you. You shook your head no, and he pouted out his bottom lip in mock admiration.

“Were you at the smokers’ session, too?” he asked in earnest with the cigarette held between his lips and a hand covering the weak fire of the lighter.

“No. I mean, I probably should’ve been, but the runny tar did my stomach in. Don’t think a smoke’ll do me any good, now.”

He snorted at that, and held his chin up to blow the smoke up into the night air.

“You get used to it. With a handful of creamer and twice as much sugar, it’s digestible.”

You saw the pin more clearly, then. Eight months sober.

“Congratulations, by the way,” you gestured to the lapel of his jacket. “You must be like royalty around here.”

“Hm? Oh,” he looked down at the pin, and back at you. “Hardly. Edna’s three years clean, I think she likes coming here still because she doesn’t have anybody else to pester. I don’t think she was even using in the first place.”

You chuckled and the silence soon fell like a heavy blanket. It was only Aemond’s huffs and puffs and the occasional car driving by.

You pulled out your phone out of habit, to keep your hands busy, though you wish you’d done so earlier. Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, tilting his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“Missed my last bus by almost twenty minutes.”

“Oh. Should I feel guilty? I’d offer you a lift,” he nodded to the black muscle car parked underneath a streetlight, shining like a dark diamond. “But you wouldn’t really want an AAA bloke knowing your address, would you?”

“You could drop me off a block away, but I might trade my street for your name.”

“Right. ‘Course. Aemond.” He held his hand out to you, and you took it perhaps too eagerly. “I could’ve tailed you, but now you know too much. Not worth the risk, I’m afraid.”

You snorted and looked down at your feet.

“Fair… I’ll hail a cab.”

You gave him a two-fingers salute and began to walk off when he took one last, deep drag and crushed the butt of the cigarette under his boot.

He didn’t expect you to be on his mind by the time he pulled up to his flat. He didn’t expect he’d be on your mind, either, when you lay in your bed, tossing and turning.

Aemond walked into the familiar flat that’s been home to him and his lover for so long now with a bouquet of roses in his hand. But the smiling face of Alys turned into a sour scowl the moment she smelled the roses.

“They smell like someone else, Aemond,” she spoke sharply, and Aemond shook his head in defence.

“Tell me now, and I promise I won’t be too mad. Have you moved on? From me? I thought we were forever? Until death?” She took a few steps, and each time her feet dragged, the woodwork split open.

“You left me, Alys. What am I supposed to do?”

“Grovel at my feet again. Beg for me. Flay yourself open. Cry. You know I like it when you do that… so handsome. You know there are no women like me. Only me. And… her? Really? How is she gonna give you your fix?”

She turned to the couch, and there you were, sitting with terror in your eyes. Aemond felt his eye burn, and soon he was back in his bedroom with moonlight filtering through the blinds and sweat rolling down his forehead and naked chest. He ran his trembling fingers through his hair. There was no use staying in the bed, sleep never came again after such nightmares. He washed the residue of her from him under cold water.

You’d have to admit you only kept up with the AAA to see the tall, brooding guy who might or might not have been joking about moonlighting as a serial killer. You saw him leaning on his car near the building. The same leather jacket, the same black jeans, the same boots; instead of nursing a cup, he was fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers with a lit cigarette between them.

“Hey, you,” you sounded positively chipper, but his eye dragged slowly from his bony hand to your face, and one side of his lip twitched ever so slightly.

“Hi,” he sounded gruff, his voice was deeper than when he had seemingly made a willing conversation with you the last time.

“Small world, huh?” you tried again, and he only hummed.

You stood by his car in silence, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other, pulling the sleeves of your jacket as embarrassment began to set in.

“So… do you always come? To the meetings?”

“I try to.”

“Okay… What’re you in for?” You tried to sound unaffected, leaning closer, but you weren’t courageous enough to nudge his shoulder playfully as you intended to.

“Hm?” his brows were knitted when he looked up at you. He flicked the ash of his smoke, and took a drag while staring at you with a vacant expression. He was tapping his feet as if he were in a hurry and your small talk was delaying a life-or-death situation.

“Why are you here, I mean? Booze? Pills? Cigs?”

“That’s a conversation for inside the building, isn’t it?” He sounded sharper for a moment, slightly annoyed and terribly impatient to change the subject.

“Right… Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I’ll see you inside, then?”

He hummed again, and that was the only interaction you were to have with him for the day. He was a ghost in the back, staring down at his cup or out the window; and a breeze once the meeting was over, dashing out with long steps. The loud engine of his car was revving already when you were merely out of the building.

The affirmations that were supposed to take you out of bad mental spots didn’t work with Aemond. You sulked over tea, you sulked with a pillow hugged to your chest and cheery shows on. You kept playing that curt interaction in your head over and over again, dissecting it like a detective. Was it your outfit? Was it your hair? Did you look ugly in the golden hour? Did you make a bad joke? Were you offensively boring? Did he like to play with minds? He seemed the type, somehow. He seemed the type with closets of skeletons. There wasn’t a reason left to go anymore. The meetings didn’t tell you anything you didn’t know, you weren’t in the deep end like some of the others that went there anyway. You were managing just fine on your own. If anything, you thought Aemond was a risk—a siren’s song if sirens looked less like birds and more like a tall, lithe, brooding guy that caught your eye and mind and hasn’t let go. You were happier before your nights were occupied by him and what might’ve set him off so that he’d treat you like he despised you.

Aemond’s heart was crushed each time Alys made it clear he loved her infinitely more than she’d ever love him. His heart was shattered to bits when she walked out; and that clumsily mended heart lost a few pieces when he didn’t see you in your regular spot with your arms crossed over your chest, rolling your eyes at melodramatic stories of being born-again. He missed catching your eyes, raising his brows until you had to hide your lips behind your hands to stifle the laughter he so easily dragged out of you. He missed you staring into his cup, insisting his coffee was pudding. He missed lighting your cigarette with his each time.

The more he thought of you in his waking hours, the more Alys haunted and terrorized him in his sleep. She came to him as he first saw her, in high-heeled boots, fishnets and a short skirt that made her shiver in the night breeze. She came to him as how he first had her, with her hair done up and him riding the high of a race well-won, in the backseat of his car, her blood-red nails digging into his flesh and whispering in his ear that she’d had to pay him for how good he was fucking her. She came to him as his lover, watching telly with her head on his thighs and telling him she wouldn’t trade a thing for that. She came to him with her brows furrowed, telling him she was bored, that she didn’t like this Aemond anymore, that she missed the rebel without a cause and that she wasn’t made for domesticity like that. She came to him as she mocked him, running a finger down his scarred cheek and pouting, telling him he was much too young to know what love was, and just how long forever was. Were you surprised I’d never want another bloke? So what if I shagged him once? Be a man and stop whining. She came to him thrashing their flat, tearing Aemond’s books page by page, breaking plates, screaming that she wanted excitement, not this. You won’t even hit me back? What kind of man are you?! The worst of all, she came to him with a rubber band in one hand and a needle in another, sitting between Aemond’s legs and encouraging him to live a little, that being so uptight wasn’t such a good look for a guy who drove like the devil and threw fatal punches without breaking a sweat. Come on, daredevil. Not scared of a little sting, are you? She undid the knot of the band, and kissed where the needle drew blood. Then, she undressed as though it was Aemond’s reward each time.

Aemond hated you for this. It took him choking on his own vomit and his mother nearly dying on the spot to cast out the ugly ghost of Alys the first time she haunted him so terribly. The more he saw her in every corner of that flat, the more he turned to the poison she first injected into his veins. He was good, it was more than half a year that he had peace. Then, he saw you walk in, and he felt himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame that would burn him to ashes. He thought he’d have a friend in you, if he were lucky. But instead, you became another addiction, an obsession. The more he chastised himself for being so wicked, for thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t, the more you invaded his mind and heart. And instead of balming his loneliness, you brought his vengeful ghost back.

Aemond stirred in his bed to the droning of late night game show re-runs. He knew it wasn’t you he hated, it was him. Weak, weak, weak, Alys’ voice echoed in his head to the rhythm of fake laugh tracks and applauses. You act tough, but you can’t even go to sleep now. You can’t even ring her. Text her.

You were more fortunate. You had friends to take you out to pubs, to come over and keep your mind occupied. You had shoulders to cry on and ears to chew off about him. But even then, he was on your mind day and night. His quiet snorts, the twists of his lips, the cigarette held between his fingers, the jacket that almost teased you to pull off of his shoulders, the car that you’ve been waiting for another invite to enter, of how he so subtly sneaked into your mind and heart, how it was already too late when you caught on… Eventually, you were left to yourself, and it all came flooding back each time without fail. Yet, you managed to convince yourself Aemond was a crush that you got over. You told yourself again and again how you were better off without him in your life whatsoever, how you weren’t the one to hold his hand through whatever battles he had with his demons.

The veneer of indifference broke apart the moment you went back to AAA. A stupid pin was your undoing. You had planned it meticulously. The hour was odd, the meeting wouldn’t start for another hour. The day was odd, you knew Aemond didn’t come on Thursdays. But he’d made a change once your seat was vacant. To run from your ghost, he joined another group. He saw you at the end of the hall, talking with an acquaintance with a pin on your collar. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream until he lost his voice and his lungs collapsed, he wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself alive, but he simply froze where he stood, staring. It took him you staring back, your face going from disbelief to shock, and much to his dismay, discomfort and your back turning to him to gather his courage and hurry after you.

Aemond found you where he first talked to you, with your back on the stone wall, with a trembling hand struggling to light a cigarette. You’re in my spot, he wanted to say. He doubted you’d find it so endearing anymore. Instead, he simply walked up to you and leaned on the stones next to you in silence.

“You were kind of an arse. You are a massive arse, actually,” you muttered once the silence became unbearable.

“You’re right. I was. I am.”

“I mean—why did you even talk to me if you were gonna turn around and give me the cold shoulder later? Over nothing? It felt shitty. I felt shitty.” It was an understatement.

“Can I make it up to you?” He asked so simply, without a moment’s hesitation. Against your animated outburst, he was calm. The tempest inside of him wasn’t betrayed by how he looked or spoke to you.

You didn’t expect a guy like him to own up to his mistakes let alone try to make up. You didn’t doubt his sincerity, but his demeanour took you by surprise nevertheless.

“How?”

“Coffee? Tea? A pint? Desserts? Let’s go somewhere nicer? Anywhere you like.”

“Is this a date, Aemond?”

“Would you like it to be?” He didn’t miss a beat. His eye was wide and unblinking, staring at you unflinchingly.

“Oh—I—we hardly know each other?” But it wasn’t a no. It was a convince me. It was a chase after me even if for a moment.

“Alright. Just a friendly hangout, then? Let me apologise, then I’ll drop you off. At the bus stop. That’s it.”

Your shoulders dropped though you knew you had no right to deflate. Aemond was being a gentleman. He gave you exactly what you asked for.

“What if I won’t accept your apology?” You spoke after a short pause.

“Then I’ll leave you alone. I promise I won’t bother you again.”

The thought made your brows knit and tied your stomach into a tight knot. Until today, you found it comforting that you’d never see him again—or so you told yourself. Now, the same thought gave you dread.

“Okay… alright.”

Aemond perked up even before you said more. Just your accepting to hear him out was more than he could hope for. You saw him stand up taller, smiling ever so slightly with a glint in his eye.

“Anywhere I like?”

“Anywhere,” he caught up in two long steps, walking by your side.

“You’re paying?”

He nodded with twitching lips—what passed as a smile by his severe standards. “I am.”

You couldn’t keep the stern look on your face anymore, so you smiled in return, big and warm; the kind that warmed him up all over like the first sip of soup on a cold winter evening. You suspected you gave in too easily, that you might be setting yourself up for another week or two of despair; Aemond thought this little friendly non-date a second chance at life.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you

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gotham-ruaidh · 14 days

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin || Chapter 20A: I Don’t Need Nothing When I’m By Your Side || Chapter 20B: I'm Walkin' Down This Rocky Road ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20C: You're The Only One Who Gets Through To Me

I feel good in your room Let's lock the world out Feels so good when we kiss Nobody ever made me crazy like this

-- "In Your Room", The Bangles (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Darkness had settled on the cabin before Jamie re-emerged, hair damp, wearing jeans and a worn Eagles t-shirt.

He found Raymond in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table, working on a crossword puzzle. Raymond looked up as Jamie entered the room, and set down his pen.

Jamie sank into the chair across from Raymond. Sighed.

“I was going to apologize, but I think you would have told me that I didn’t need to.”

“You’re right.”

Jamie leaned on the table with his elbows, eyes down. “That hasn’t happened since we finished the tour. And it wasn’t even a bad one.”

“We’ll talk about that. How is Claire?”

“She’s in the shower. She…” Jamie swallowed. “I’m fucking nothing without her.”

A beat.

“A few months ago, in the middle of the tour, we spent a weekend with Dougal and Gillian. Dougal said that I had traded my addiction to substances, for an addition to my wife. Do you think that’s true?”

Raymond thought about this for a long while. He waited for Jamie to sit up straight and look at him.

“Do you know the definition of the word ‘addicted’, Jamie?”

Jamie shook his head.

“It means, to be physically and mentally dependent on a particular substance, and unable to stop taking it without incurring adverse effects.”

Jamie lay his hands flat on the table. “Sounds pretty accurate to me.”

“Perhaps.” Raymond folded his arms against his chest. “But what about your music? Couldn’t you say the same about that?”

Jamie nodded.

“What about your family? Your friends?”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yeah, but – ”

“I’m not discounting what Dougal said, Jamie. But what I am saying, is that it’s not so black and white. I love Dougal, but he can be a bit too…literal sometimes.”

Jamie smiled, faintly.

“Are you incredibly dependent on Claire, Jamie? Of course. But she’s your wife. You spend every moment of every day together when you’re at home, and the vast majority of your time together when you’re on the road. That’s not typical. And, you’re both addicts in recovery, and you keep each other accountable. It’s to be expected.”

Raymond sat back in his chair. “Now – the question is, whether the nature of your relationship with Claire tips over into being so close, so dependent, that it becomes problematic. Do you think it’s a problem?”

Jamie rubbed his face. “To the extent that even thinking about a life without her in it will cause me to spiral, yes. To the extent that I only hear her voice when I’m stuck in a spiral, yes. To the extent that the only way I can come back to myself from a spiral is by making love to her, yes.”

“I’m not saying that you need to cut any of that out of your life, Jamie. Know that, first and foremost.”

Raymond watched Jamie visibly relax. “I meant what I said to you before – that you need to nurture your connection. Something I hope you’re coming to know about me, is that I don’t use words lightly. What the two of you have built – how you love and protect each other – I’ve never seen that intensity in a married couple before.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I hope you can understand that without drawing the right boundaries, it can be both. I hope you trust me when I say that I won’t do anything to test or damage your relationship with Claire. But you do need to broaden your levels of support, Jamie. Allow other people in. And create space for you, and Claire, to explore who you are without each other.”

“I know. I need to. I don’t want to use her up,” he whispered. “I want forever with her.”

“So,” Raymond said, so patiently, “Let me in a bit, please. Let me help you, too. I will help both of you.”

“It will make us stronger,” Jamie agreed. “But Doc, it’s so fucking hard…”

“Isn’t anything that’s hard to do, worthwhile?”

“It is.” Claire breezed into the kitchen, clad in sweatpants and one of Jamie’s flannel shirts, and kissed her husband on the cheek. “But thankfully I learned to use a crock pot to cook Uncle Lamb’s chili recipe a long time ago – it’s so much easier than cooking it on the stove. Who’s hungry?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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pleasured-ambrosia · 8 months

Note

hi!! could you do a drabble of miguel protecting fem!reader from an ex or something like that? also i love your work !!

((Might get put on Ao3. Have not decided. College is hard. This was also written to be like pre-ASTV, back when Miguel wasn’t so sad and grumpy.))

The sound of your back popping breaks the long silence in Miguel’s office, your arms stretching to the ceiling as you let out a yawn. You had begun the long process of cataloging the many anomalies faced by fellow Spider-People that morning. However, even as the little clock at the bottom of your laptop screen flashes the late hour of the night, your stack of encounters is still tall enough to wobble at the slightest bump against your desk. The reports—if one could even call them that—are a mix of typed and written sheets of paper, as well as the stray napkin blobbed with ketchup or more mysterious substances.

Although it had been your idea to keep a database of anomaly encounters, you couldn’t have predicted that Spider-People had such . . . diverse forms of keeping track of their adventures.

A mug appears in your peripheral, breaking you from your thoughts. Your eyes follow the large hand wrapped around its handle, landing on the vague shape of Miguel O’Hara’s face, lit only by the orange hues of his computers. At one point, he had offered to teach you how to use them, but the process only put off your project’s completion further.

“I’m just taking a break,” you half-defend, half-yawn.

“Nah,” replies Miguel, nudging the mug closer to you. “You’re done for the night. Get some sleep.”

You sipped from the mug, letting the taste of herbal tea drown out your complaints. Your eyes take in Miguel’s form, noting that his usual blue and red suit was replaced with a gray jogging suit better-suited for your dimension than his. “No patrolling tonight?”

“I will after I take you home.”

You raise a brow with a small grin. “I can work a portal just fine, you know.”

“It’s not that.” Miguel’s stance shifts as he shoves his large hands into his pockets. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

Your grin widens. “So I can’t take care of myself, is that it?”

Miguel lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. “No, I didn’t mean it like that . . . Por Dios, I just mean—“

“Miguel, relax. I’m messing with you. Walk me home if you want, but I have to stop by the store on the way home. Sound good?”

“As long as it’s quick.” Yet Miguel didn’t seem to mean it, watching as you pack up your laptop and roll up its charging cable. The two of you look almost normal standing in Miguel’s office, with him dressed in sweats and you opting out of your Spider-ensemble for an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans. You sling your laptop bag over your shoulder, imagining what it would be like for Miguel to walk you to a train or a bus rather than busting out a portal. You could probably make a decent living off data entry, but what would Miguel do? Maybe he would be a scientist, and despite working in two different departments, maybe he would become your friend.

“What’re you thinking about?” Miguel asks. He taps a button on his watch (which he would insist is, in fact, way cooler than a watch.) A portal of geometric shapes in red, orange, and yellow opens in the middle of Miguel’s lab, swirling with anticipation.

The vision of Miguel in a white coat and a button-up makes you snort. “Nothing.”

Before Miguel can press further, you grab his forearm and drag him through the portal.

Miguel has more practice at inter-dimensional than you, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he remained calm as the portal thrusted the two of you through time and space. You, however, are less professional, waving your arms and resisting the urge to scream as your stomach turns into knots.

Landing on his feet, Miguel catches you before you can face plant onto the pavement of Earth-575, otherwise known as home. Your face burns with embarrassment as it hits the center of his chest and your arms wrap around Miguel’s middle. He’s warm, you think. And soft!

It was obvious to everyone in the Spider-Society that Miguel was in great shape. After all, most of the Spider training regiments had come from some of his own workouts. The man could probably rearrange your apartment without breaking a sweat, which was why it came as such a shock that despite Miguel’s muscles, you feel ready to snuggle into him like a pillow.

“You should really work on sticking that landing.”

You push Miguel away to glare up at his smug face. “You’ll get humbled real fast when I knock your ass to the ground.”

At that, Miguel roars with laughter. “I’d like to see you try.”

You huff, spinning around to take a look at the nearest street sign. The nearest convenience store is only two blocks away, making your apartment only an extra two. “Let’s move it, O’Hara. If you’re nice, I’ll buy you a snack.”

Although Miguel could very well buy his own snacks, he follows you anyways, taking extra care to shorten his strides so that he can walk by your side. Most of the residents of your city are tucked in bed by now, although a handful of lights accompany the sporadic streetlights. Besides the occasional rat or partygoer, you and Miguel are the only ones still out.

“Did you think the college kids were going to kidnap me in the middle of the night?” you tease.

“Absolutely,” Miguel deadpans. “They’d lock you in the basement of their frat house, and you’d starve because they haven’t gone grocery shopping since the semester started.”

“Is that what you did in college? Lure people into your frat house of doom?”

“Absolutely not.” Miguel beams with pride, his chest puffing out. “I was on the quiz bowl team.”

Your cackles bounce off the tall buildings lining the streets. Tears spring from the corners of your eyes as you clutch your stomach to keep it from aching. You can picture it now: a scrawny, awkward Miguel with thick glasses frantically consulting his team for the championship-winning answer.

“And when did you become all of this?” you ask, gesturing at Miguel.

He ponders this for a moment. “I didn’t become Spider-Man until I joined Alchemax, but I guess I branched out a little more towards the end of undergrad. Got more into working out, making connections.”

You turn around a corner, finding the entrance to a small convenience store. A small bell rings as you pull open the door, Miguel propping his arm over your head so that you can enter first.

“I’ll just be a second,” you assure him.

“One,” Miguel starts.

“Real mature, O’Hara.”

“Two.”

“Seriously, I’m going to web your mouth shut.”

“Three.”

“I swear to God—“

“Four—“

You make a beeline for the coolers towards the back, tuning out Miguel’s chuckling. By the time you pick out a half-gallon of milk, he’s perusing the long aisles of chips. You never really stopped to ask what kind of brands and flavors Miguel has in his dimension. They banned cigarettes and absurdly large sodas at gas stations, but that was all you heard. You make a mental note to ask, maybe even to buy Miguel something new to try.

You load up on a mishmash of items that hardly pass for a late-night dinner, filling your arms with small plastic bowls of cereal, styrofoam cups of ramen, and an overpriced bag of beef jerky. It’s not until you start weighing the pros and cons of ice cream over chocolate that you notice him.

His hair is longer than when you saw him last, curling around his ears in dark tufts. His guitar case is slung over his shoulder, and judging by the heavy eyeshadow and leather pants, he must’ve had a gig earlier.

You decide to skip grabbing something sweet, spinning around to make a beeline for the cashier when he calls out your name.

Shit.

You turn around slowly, heart hammering in your throat. It takes everything in you to force a smile. “Kasey, hey.”

“Long time no see. Haven’t seen you at The Clover lately.”

“Oh, you know,” you’re thankful that the bundle of snacks in your arms gives you something to hold, “just been busy. Haven’t had time to go out.”

You used to rehearse this moment in the bathroom. You had a whole script where you laid everything out on the table—gave Kasey the verbal beat down he deserved. Yet as you stand across from him, the words won’t come out. Is it my Spidey-sense? you wonder, but this feels different. Your Spidey-sense always led you to action. Whatever this was . . . it was paralyzing.

“I tried texting you,” Kasey continues.

I changed my number, you want to say.

“I haven’t been checking my messages lately.” Your voice cracks at the end, and you can tell Kasey noticed. Kasey always noticed.

“We should grab a drink, then. I actually just finished up tonight if you want to—“

“Are you ready to go?”

A large arm wraps around the small of your back and pulls you close, prompting a small oomf. You tilt your head back to look at Miguel. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m ready.”

Kasey says your name again and smiles, sending a shiver down your spine. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Miguel smiles down at Kasey, who barely reaches his chest. The expression looks more like a test than one out of sincerity. “I’m Miguel, and you are interrupting our date.”

Before you can reply, Miguel steers you to the cashier. He sets a bag of chips you didn’t even realize he was holding onto the counter and waits for you to do the same. You reach for your wallet, but Miguel’s faster, handing the cashier a twenty and not bothering to wait for the change as he takes the plastic grocery bags. As he escorts you out of the convenience store, you catch one last glimpse of Kasey’s slack-jawed face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you moan halfway down the block.

“I have paid for your snacks plenty of times.”

“No, not that. You shut him up just like that!” You snap your fingers for emphasis. “And you said we were on a date. And you put your arm around me!”

“It was the first thing that came to mind!” argues Miguel. “I didn’t need your Spider-sense—“

“Spidey-sense.”

“Lo que sea—to tell that you needed a little help.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Some great hero I am,” you grumble. “Can’t even handle an ex-boyfriend on my own.”

“We all have people that get under our skin. And sometimes no matter how hard we try to get them out, we can’t.”

Miguel’s gaze focuses on the street ahead, his face contemplative.

“You know, a convenience store would be a pretty lame first date.”

Miguel shrugs. “Well, if you’re going to be so ungrateful, I guess I’ll just eat all of this junk food myself.”

You did not tease Miguel for the rest of the night.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #mimi writes #reader insert #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara #x reader

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stick-ball · 6 months

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Hi! I'm about to end my whole career!

Here goes the Riko rant that dear @capcavan asked, demanded and begged for.

You know, I get it.

So here's the thing. I get it, Riko sucks. He is the bad guy we all got hung upon. Why? Because he is a rival for our protagonist. He is an angsty, young guy, born into wealth that came from money laundering and human trafficking. It's despicable, the Ravens are bullies and he himself makes lots of bad things happen. Yeah sure, I get that, whatever.

Being raised as a superstar must've been really, really difficult for you.

But I want to really dig deeper right now, this is a Riko rant after all, and you need to really know your fighters. So, to start: a huge trap in toxic families is that the children, even when grown up, will refuse to identify their parents and guardians as negative and toxic people. Not even outside influence can really sway them, usually. Kids that get away from a sinister situation can later tell they were abused, that it wasn't right, but still, they don't get the specifics of what and why, and they are doomed to repeat the same abuse and call it good. Call it right. And sometimes that's substance abuse, sometimes thats domestic abuse, sometimes that's racism and sexism and xenophobia they will grow into believing as the way the world works. Sometimes, thats nepotism and sadism. Only thing that can help is therapy and an environment removed from the control of the original abuse, lots of therapy, lots of space, years of it. A perfect case of a typical toxic family is Aaron.

A perfect case of that could also be Riko.

And here you can call bullshit because Neil had such a fucked up, abusive father and he *knew* it was wrong. Yes, he knew it was wrong for his father to hurt him to the measure he went. Why? Because his mother protected him, because his mother feared his father, not adored him. Because his mother took him away and kept running. A mother, a role model a child feels very strongly about, subconsciously.

Riko was taken from his mother. He was pushed aside by his father and left in the care of a family member, who was easy to glorify for an impressionable child. Because he was a legend. In fanon I often see Tetsuji's character taking a very background role in everything, and sure, he seems pretty background to Neil, because every bad guy seems background to Neil in comparison to his Father - besides Riko, who is the one dangling that threat in front of him. Tetsuji just wants his property back, Riko is playing with fire though. So yeah to us, reading the story, Tetsuji is a total asshole among many such men in the book.

But to Riko he must've meant almost everything for a long time. A crucial thing about Tetsuji is, he is a sadist. Oh sure, sorry, it's only called sadism when done against his team, right? Against Jean or Kevin or Neil? When it comes to Riko, who was in his care for all of his formative years, it was just strict childbearing right? He is a Moriyama after all, so he is evil from birth.

Yeah, I must've mixed something up about Riko being beaten to unconsciousness several times being mentioned in extra content. You think that was a one, two, third times the charm occurance?

Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough.

I always wondered how sarcastic Neil was saying this. I mean, he definitely meant to land a punch where it would hurt. And he actually knew Riko as a little kid, so he knew more than most.

Stockholm syndrome is very common among victims of childhood abuse. I would know, anyway. It's like the most logical option - the survivior is living in a dual reality. These people are my family, the care for me. They provide for me. They want me to be the best. They also abuse me. They hurt me, but it's for the best. Hurting me is a expression of love. I am grateful to them.

I often wonder how many people who read the books know what a commodity is. A commodity, in the most basic terms, is a basic good that can be used in ccommerce to interchange with goods of the same type. A commodity is not a king, or a queen, or a bishop or a knight, or even a rook. It's a fucking pawn. It's cannon fodder.

Riko is worthless to his family. Riko is just a tool to Tetsuji to generate profit. Riko wants to be worthy to his family. Riko most likely loves his uncle and is ready to do the most insane thing if only it gives him the one thing he desires, which is being seen as worthy by his family.

Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.

Then there's grooming. Grooming is more obvious when it's done by a stranger who sees the child randomly or in some intervals of time. It's much harder to resist when it's constant. To Riko, Tetsuji is a good person, he is a hero, he is his family, he cares for him, they have a common goal. Riko wants to be what Tetsuji wants him to be. There is a price to pay for it, of course. There is a price for everything. But the price doesn't matter. Riko wants to pay the price he has to pay, to be what Tetsuji wants him to be.

And the thing is, do you think Riko learned how to use his money and crime connections to control others? How to gain power through fear and pain? You think spending his whole life locked in a fucking stadium he taught it to himself how to break people in body and spirit? That torturing them was his special interest? Or maybe are you forgetting that amongst valid responces to trauma, besides fight, flight and freeze there is also fawn? Don't you think it's much more likely, being groomed and enamoured with his captor (bcs thats what Tetsuji is to me, their captor) he impersonated him to the best of his ability? That he learned every leaf in the book from him, because he was his only connection to the family, to his father, to his brother. He was a legend, the creator of exy. Wasn't he always trying to be worthy of him? To be good enough to be loved and wanted? To be great full enough?

I am not saying this absolves him of any of the things he did, but people do insane things under lesser influence, things they would never do otherwise. And I am not talking of people groomed from early childhood, I'm talking of sane adults, being dragged into dangerous and destructive ideologies.

I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit.

Because it isn't, is it? The things HE does ARE his fault, definately. But the reason why? That is not that easy to pinpoint. And Riko is so unstable it hurts. He is so far removed from real life he is completely incapable of conversation. He is a child brought up in a grave, but...

Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago.

To me Riko is besides all other things, wasted potential. All the things he dreamed of? He could have had them. He was talented, he was determined and had a lot of courage, but all of that was utterly wasted in the violence and malice he was soaked in. In all the violence and malice he created in return.

So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

The most interesting thing about All for the game though is, that in every other book Riko dying would've been the big bad wolf being defeated. But here, that's just a bleep on the radar. Because Riko was a product, not the producer. What I love about All for the game is it shows none of the madness and evil in life started or ended with me or you, with Riko or Neil. Not even with Keylight or Tetsuji. Fuck it did not even end with Nathan dying. It all ends how it begun. With a deal with the devil made in the back of a car, bought with blood money.

#i said what i said and you can cry about it #no vacuum storylines here thank you good-night l #this one is gonna make me so popular with enemies of the state i can feel it #riko moriyama #riko moriyama headcanon #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #aftg headcanon #aftg rant #trauma discussion

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the-moon-devi · 11 months

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𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 3 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔...

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. • ☆ . ° • ☆ . ° .• *₊° .☆•

In my opinion the world overworks certain groups of people and we barely have time to do what we want and what we love. I believe life should be spent doing what you want. But we have evolved to something totally different. I think once people realize this. This will be a small step to gaining back power and actually living a fulfilling life instead of surviving. It's kinda absurd to think if you work 4 or 5 days a week 2 days should be enough to rest. And let's not forget the busy people out there who have children and a whole family half the time they don't actually get to rest on those days. It's OK to work hard but don't work on E because then there's no substance to your work.

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☀ Sunday- Sun day:

This is the first day of the week, look at how the planets align in the cosmos.... sun rules leo. So this is about self care. Sun represents shine so you know how people say put on your Sundays best yea this is it. You express yourself and let it all out. This is the day you truly rest and start to go inwards. This may be a day where you just do what you want and your favorite hobbies!

🌕 Monday - Moon Day:

Sounds pretty similar huh?? I think Moon day is a day where you get your home back in order. You rest & reflect. You drink water & plan out the rest of the week.

Why? Because Moon is represented by cancer. This is not a working day to me. I feel like this is when you should be cooking, self care, taking care of the home, and nurturing yourself/family!

♂ Tuesday - Mars Day:

This is pretty self explanatory. Mars is energetic! Moon Day gave you all the list of things you need to do & mars day you'll be ready to do them! You are usually doing things you usually don't have the energy for. I consider this a work day!

☿ Wednesday - Mercury:

This is air energy and we know our gemini's love to start mutiple projects. They love to learn and be on the go. I also think this is a great day for kids to go to school along with Thursday.

♃ Thursday- Jupiter:

Jupiter rules over education & expansion. This planet holds a large mass of energy and people are usually just ready to push everything out and wrap projects up from Mercury day. This is the best energy to end the work week/ school week off on. Your brain can take on a lot more and you still have the capacity to get work done. This is why I say mercury & Jupiter day are good days for kids. Maybe these should be the days where you actually teach kids and let them read and study.

♀ Friday - Venus Day:

Venus day might just be my favorite day of the week! This is when we usually get our paycheck. You want to get cute. You know some businesses let you have a free dress day or wear jeans ya know stuff like that. Your just chilling on Fridays like it's not much to do. Your in this self care energy. Getting your nails & hair done. Venus is all about self love, beauty, your style, shopping, luxury, money etc. So this day is perfect to kick start. Also a good day to go shopping! Whether that be grocery or just clothing. Venus is love as well so dates are good on this day as well.

♄ Saturday - Saturn Day:

This day you really should be taking it slow. You should be doing things that take time & patience. Idk if people notice but usually on Saturn days a lot of bad stuff happens espicially at night. So that's why I think you should stay in the house and take it slow. You should be reflecting on your week and taking time to do persistent growth. Start new healthy habits. Saturn is ruled by Capricorn. I think this is sabbath day as the religious people would say.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It's very useful to use this method in order to plan your days out and distribute your energy for a successful week! The number of the day can also give you insight for what energy is at play.

Ex: Thursday October.25,2020

This is a number 3 day. The number 3 can represent a day where there is a abundance of energy. These are venusian & jupiterian energies at play. You may have be heavily in the energy of socializing and talking other people. There may be a lot of Joy on this day and spending a lot of money since. This is number seven day (25 = 7) this is all represented by Jupiter so there may be a lot of knowledge that you're accumulating a lot of spiritual attainment and luck.

Ps: Depending on the day you should also use your planet placement

ex: Sunday - Kayla has her Sun in Taurus 3rd house. So she should be talking to friends and resting. She should be studying/reading things that bring her joy & comfort. Or maybe your a leo rising and your sun falls in the 5th house. You should spend this day doing fun activities & hobbies. This persons sun might be in Sag so maybe they are researching or doing workouts this could be calming & apart of self care for them!

Also I say Mercury & Jupiter day should be days where kids are reading/ study because their brain and ability to concentrate will be more activated. Now mars day is the start of the week for them so they should be outside in nature and let all their lil energy out.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆. • ☆ . °

I would love to make a post on numerology, I have a different pov when it comes to what the numbers mean! Let me know if you guys would like to see that & your thoughts on this post! Catch ya later lovelies! Til' next time....

~𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 xx🤎💋

𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵

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𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓓𝓮'𝓛𝓾𝔁𝔁𝓮 (masterlist)

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©𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 (Do not copy or steal my work)

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chokchokk · 10 months

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𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 | choi san x fem!reader

PART TWO of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: He usually doesn’t drink this much. No, maybe he does, but it definitely shouldn’t make San act like this.

It must be a trap, you think, but you’ve already fallen for him, so there’s nothing you can do except not getting your heart broken.

"As if you could care."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: smut, angst, fluff (if you squint)

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 7.1k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): alcohol, san is drunk, reader doesn't fuck drunk people, lack of communication, non-penetrative sex, fingering, squirting, aftercare, showering, sleeping together (in a bed)

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: prologue + main part, finished

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: please know that i wrote this before ateez drank in their video so any sign of projection is like just ... bad luck LMAO but uhhhhhh yeah here's the start of the A N G S T of it all so enjoy lol !!! <33

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

unknown number: sannie i think i left my phone at your place

unknown number: oh wait

unknown number: yeah i’m an idiot

unknown number: how do i delete this message

unknown number: btw is my name still “unknown number”

unknown number: because you should really change that

“That’s our thing,” he laughs, “she’s smart and all, but every time we hook-up, it’s like, I’m seriously fucking her stupid.“

His roommate snickers and looks at the contact name.

“So, uh, what are you two?”

“Hm?”

“You guys have good chemistry! Or are you going to keep up with the whole “sex-buddies” schtick? She seems cool, why not give her a chance?“

“Nah.. You know I can’t get myself involved in that again, Seonghwa. My last relationship.. I get goosebumps just thinking about it, really. I think she wouldn’t even want that, too. It’s all just jokes and fun between us.”

“Really?“

He turns off his phone.

“Okay, only sometimes, I guess.” He smirks. “But I really like that about her, actually. She doesn’t do it as much now, but, uhm.. she compliments me a lot?”

“San, you’re so fucked up.”

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

“Hey, it’s me! Open the door~!", his voice rings and San should be very happy you’re still awake at 3 AM on a Sunday. “Let me in!”, he repeats and it’s not a loud, aggressive shout, but urgent enough to snap you out of your mindlessly scrolling-cycle on your phone and make you question whether you’ve heard correctly or are imagining things.

It’s a very bold move, really, thinking that your home is free for him to come at any given time, and if it wasn’t for the unnecessarily sweet drunken “pretty please?” that follows right after his demand, you would have gladly let him walk all the way to his own residency, but you’re weak, weak for him, so even though you do hesitate, the door is opened with almost no significant time having passed.

“Well, good morning,” you chuckle and watch the man lean against the frame with his head, his legs unable to hold the weight of his upper body. He’s wearing his usual fit of a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, but his blushed cheeks, the smell of sweet tangy fruits and other sour substances tells you more about his evening than you need to ask for. It’s also not helping that his lips look swollen, smudged with red lipstick that he definitely tried to get rid of with a lot of rubbing on the way here — San's had a long night and he's waiting for it to get longer.

“I can’t drive like this,” San explains and his eyes are barely opening while he tries to keep a serious tone as he speaks in short-cut sentences, “and you were nearby... so now I’m here.”

“Did I ask? Get in here, Sannie.”

You grab his arm, or at least try to get your hand around his thick bicep and drag him inside, the door closing with a thump. “Thank you~,” San giggles and it takes a lot to not make him stumble completely onto you, you managing to put him down on your couch with your whole body-power, his face immediately plunging into one of the pillows.

“Where’s your jacket?”, you ask, as you stare holes into his muscular back and broad shoulders.

“Didn’t wear one,” he lisps through the fabric and his voice is raspy.

“Dumbass."

Trying to help him, you decide you’re going to get him a cup of water, but before you can let loose of him and disappear into the kitchen, San grabs you by your hand, immediately crossing his fingers into yours.

“No, stay,” San begs with a soft-spoken voice, face still planted into the couch, and he doesn’t know what those words are doing to you. Yeah, you guys have been having one or two one-night-stands too many with the unspoken promise to plead no hard feelings, but it’s him. Catching feelings for San hasn’t been something you’ve deliberately made the attempt to avoid.

But maybe you would have, if you’d known how painful it was going to be.

“Your hands are so soft,” he daydreams, a melody accompanying his rambling, “so soft and warm, like- like everything about you. I was actually just thinking about that on the way here! I don’t know if you noticed, but I really like holding your hands. They fit so perfectly around everything, and really everything— it’s amazing, really, really… amazing.”

“Funny of you to say that,” you comment on his drunk sweet-talk with a tired— but still entertained— sigh and stand there, dumbfounded, his hand sweating into yours. Is this the same guy that told you that he was uneasy when someone (namely his girlfriend) held his hand?

“Why funny? It’s my truth! Your hands are one of your best assets, second to.. your lips, maybe?”

“How shameless!”

Of course he’s absolutely boozed right now, but it’s been well-established to you that San only wears his silly loveable himbo-mask only when he’s subconsciously benefitting from it. Once you two had met up enough to have gotten comfortable with each other, San’s “nerdy” personality had magically disappeared, leaving you with one confident, prude-ishly sex-seeking macho. The “Sannie” you were looking for has somehow vanished into small moments and yes, it’s not like you haven’t been the one trying to crack through his shy façade for your own enjoyment in the first place, but you do miss watching the cheeky guy push up his glasses during your studies, glancing over at you from time to time, blushing, when he catches you staring back.

“Shame finds no place between us, does it~?”

Yet, exam season is over, has been over for a longer time now, which only makes it more evident that San is trying to find excuses to come over for reasons that go below bonding emotionally by miles. Sure, the hook-ups have been fun, exhilaratingly so. He’s all yours, San says repeatedly, but once you’d realised that he was still casually seeing other people, and it was just a saying, but worse, had felt an aching sting inside your breast when you had done so, yeah, fuck, that has been the moment you’ve known that having sex with this man isn’t enough: You have fallen in love (or something similar) with San and a serious relationship is the seal to quench your thirst for his affection.

“I guess we’ve got rid of shame a long time ago, huh,” you answer non-chalantly.

His hands are soft too. His lips are like one addictive book you can’t help but stick your face into, breathe in the words they say, inhale the soothing scent and make it your perfume — you’re smitten for him. You can’t begin to fathom the dread you feel when something inside you ever-so enchantingly tickles when San giggles, acknowledging your ways: "That's who we are!"

He knows that it's not who you "are" as he sits there on your couch, fingers interlocking, it’s… well, who you had been.

Two people who didn't have to think before they said anything, be free with their thoughts in order to relieve them from the stress that came from maintaining concentration and quality. Have you been with him enough to say you miss the older San? The sweet, sometimes silly Sannie?

"You’re my stupid whore, don't you forget!”

No, time alone can’t tell that. But even the sweetest strawberries mold when they're not eaten and waiting is a tiring process.

“Yeah.”

For the short time you've known and yearned for San, he’s been in multiple committed relationships, which is one of the reasons why it has taken you two so long to finally fuck, and it hasn’t really bothered you while you hadn’t, since you couldn’t know what you were missing out on.

But now— though you’ve never seen him be with his girlfriends— you have gathered enough information to know that San’s got it in him. He doesn’t like talking about his endeavours and you could only get a little bit of small-talk with Seonghwa about it, yet from what you know now, your college “love”-experiences don’t come even one inch close to the romances he’s been in; you can’t help but find yourself fantasising about his sweet ways of loving.

You have had enough of half-assery, enough of hangovers, and the thing is, you desperately don’t want San to be your next failed situationship. Knowing that he is single, that right now, he is able to be taken— taken by you— but him still not being yours; it makes you question things you haven’t stopped to question about yourself when being with other people. Like, what do you have to do, what do you have to be in order for San to not visit some dumb party in the first place? He hasn’t visited as many parties when you were just “study-buddies”, why is he visiting them now?

It— whatever “it” is— has developed into something like a challenge, making San want you and only you. Turns out though, that stuff is more difficult than anything you've been doing for college. At least when you had to study, San wasn’t going around having fucking other women.

“Were you gonna leave me?”

Yes, of course you feel pathetic thinking about it like this; you know it’s all an error in communication in regards to your “friends with benefits”-lifestyle you and San are carrying out, but if it has gotten you two together the first time around, the manifestation must work the second time: That’s the only trust you have and it’s enough to keep you going and engage in San's unannounced rendezvous.

"No, you sound like you needed water, that’s all.”

For a while, San just breathes heavily into the pillow and you caress his finger. It does remind you a little bit of the movie-nights you've had with him in the past, when you tried to make your hands touch inside the popcorn like some lovesick child. Maybe it has never been about the sex.

His finger twitches as if he's already gone to slumber, but when you scuffle to get him a blanket at least, San yanks you back down.

“No! Noo, I need you, nothing else! Stay here, please,” he thrums, lurking from the pillow to wink at you, though before you can react to this sentence, San mutters, "I'm not going to fall asleep. I'm not tired, I'm just exhausted." That's the same thing, Sannie.

“Where were you, anyways?”, you ask and make yourself comfortable, San’s and your hands placed on the edge of the sofa, while his stomach lays flat over the whole surface, legs extended out.

“Where I was? Good question,” San lulls, laughing a little bit, "Seonghwa brought me as his plus one to one of his friend’s birthday party, that’s where I was!”

“Sounds nice,” you hum. “Didn’t know you were a cocktail-type of person, though.”

“Oh, do I smell?”

“Mhm—“

“But you’re right, actually, I’m not a long drink-drinker,” San falls in. Your eyes still being closed, you feel his soft, heated cheek against the surface of your hand, his swollen lips chafing subtly against your fingers. “But some girls came by with trays of self-made cocktails and… we couldn’t say no, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” you answer to just have answered something to fill in the silence. You can smell the saccarine scent in his T-shirt and you fear it's going to paint off from his saliva he's spreading onto your palm as San places kisses around your hand. "What do you think you're doing?", you ask sarcastically.

"Nothing?", San giggles, becoming a bit more eager with the smooches.

You've experienced him drunk a lot of times already, but usually he only drinks just up until the point where he can keep his “educated” tone to a perceivable level of sobriety. But as of right now, in contrast, he seems to be way loose, swimming somewhere in between of lust and senselessness, which irritates you more than it should.

That is another thing that has changed after a while you two had sex. You are perceiving him differently, more and more differently each time San exits through your door, leaving an emptiness inside you that another person can’t fill, by whatever measure possible. But apparently, the same doesn’t happen for him with you, and you have to convince yourself you can change that every single day.

“We should party together more often,” he inclines, “what do you like to drink?”

“Whatever’s available and does its job, I suppose.”

He giggles, gasping at your answer. “You don’t care about taste?”

“I mean, drink enough and everything is going to taste the same anyway, no?”

"Let's do it."

"Huh?"

"I'm in the mood right now~ Are you in the mood right now?"

You scoff and open your eyes, revealing a San piercing his sunken gaze through you, cupping his cheek with your hand surface like you’re a saint healing him, his nose glazed red, and his lips remain pinkishly stained — in the mood.

This is not Sannie, but your guts still churn in amazement at the sight. The fatigue is wearing off; the sight of the black-haired man caressing himself with you is... "appealing" to say the least. It looks like he’s devoting himself to you, but you’d be a lovelorn fool to think this to be true.

“Or am I too drunk?”, San asks, pouting. “I may sound like this, but I’m really not that drunk anymore, I swear!” He pushes his eyebrows down, seemingly trying to appear serious, but failing to do so.

“You don’t need to swear anything, San.”

Gritting your teeth, you try to maintain a smile towards the drunken man as benevolently as you can. Of course he came for only one thing and one thing only, regardless of how cute he's huffing against your words; here are you, thinking that San was trying to get you as his plus one just like Seonghwa did.

Fuck, he’s still so hot though, there is no way of denying that. The first attraction has never worn off and you’re still head over heels for this man who’s booping your nose tip with his finger on the hand that is intertwined with your own.

“So, what do you say, sweety?”

It only takes one look towards his private area to know that San’s pants are almost exploding from how hard he’s become, his bulge being a face-forward sign inquiring sex.

“San, you know I won’t. It didn’t work the last time, don’t recall?”, you whoop.

He tries to kiss you, but fails to do so, as San misses your lips by an inch and falls to the floor. Your hands finally separate and you rub the inner burning space between your fingers as you remind him of the time when he’d drunk-texted you a message asking for "a quickie". San had made no spelling mistakes, but it had been very clear he had went to a party and returned sexually unsatisfied.

“Yeah, but that was via SMS. Now I’m here, and like, I even found my way to you, and they lived— like three blocks away, so I'm able to orientate myself, see?”, San corrects you.

“Impressive, but it doesn't change anything.”

“Morals?”

“Yes, morals.”

"You know I want to fuck you," he mumbles sulkily. Shuffling around, San sits up straight and looks at you with a saddened expression, his eyes trying to focus on you as he continues to talk you over: “But if you’re also drunk, you would?”

“Don’t even start."

“Which means you would?”

“San.”

“Come on, I’m being— I’m really being serious this time!”

You chuckle and brush his messy hair to the back, approaching his face to a dangerous distance, San’s lips opened by a slit, heavy breathing leaving his mouth while he watches you, his lip corners slightly turned upwards. He’s panting, his penis must be fighting for its life right now, and you’re just petting his head.

“At least watch me do it, then."

“Watch you masturbate?”

“Yep!”, San nods and unbuckles his belt without hesitation. “I bet you’d enjoy that! You would enjoy it, wouldn't you?”

“Maybe. Only if you don’t hold back your moans.”

“Consider it done, baby!”

You let out a laugh and search for a better position for seating to apparently enjoy the view. The drunk man takes a while to get rid of his pants, his legs getting tangled up and all, but once he kneels there, in his underwear, it’s showtime.

Or at least something like showtime. He’s being way too interactive with it for you to just sit back and relax. Whining your name in a needy pitch, he starts to pump his hardened cock inside the boxers, leaving whatever is happening there up to your imagination like a suggestive soft-porn video. However, you’ve seen his penis enough to know what it looks like, so this task is not too difficult for you. You can draw a picture of his cock down to each vein in your mind and you catch yourself drooling a bit, when you see his glistening tip peak from his waistband. You have to keep yourself together.

While letting out low groans, rubbing the head of his erection and creating slick sounds, San searches for your vicinity: “You like what you’re seeing there~?”

“What are you, a camboy?”, you tease and inhale sharply, when San grabs the seam of his T-shirt and bites down on it, revealing all of his abdomen, whining through his teeth. He’s definitely seen the same things as you online and his abs look phenomenal. Those things aren’t necessarily connected, but it’s the two thoughts shooting through your head as he begins to move his lower body to pump himself through his hand, chasing his own high.

“I don’t know!”, he lies, “I just like pleasing you!”

San purrs, his pelvis moving in round circles to accentuate his V-line and muscles flexing and un-flexing as he does so— leaving you quite speechless.

“Ah, really?”, you pant, him answering a very well-behaved “yeah, really~” right after.

“What do you want me to call you when I cum? Mommy?”

“Oh my god, is alcohol bringing out the submissive side out of you?”, you try to defuse the tension (mostly to hold yourself back from going savage towards this man as you always do) and chortle.

“Hmm, I don’t know about submissive~,” San answers, the saliva from his mouth soaking his black shirt, “but I should get naked first, no?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Taken aback by how you're anticipating seeing San jack himself off, you turn a bit too honest too quick like an avid viewer.

He grins and pulls the remaining clothing over his head with both hands, and his tip is still squeezed between his pelvis and waistband. By now, you really want to lick up the precum that’s leaking out, but you try to take your role as the sober audience seriously.

“You know, at the party, there was a girl,” San narrates, throwing his shirt to the side and looking down at his naked torso, “she told me I had nice pecs, so I said thank you, as one should.”

As an attempt to not interfere his performance, you wordlessly follow San’s hand trailing down his chest area down to his pelvis.

“But then someone told me she was flirting,” he continues, theatrically gasping to re-enact the surprise he felt after his friend had lectured him, “oh my god! I didn’t know! So naturally, I made out with her.” Which explains the red-stained lips, okay. Where is this talk going?

“But, the funny thing is,” San laughs, continuously brushing over his skin to give himself goosebumps, finally taking off his boxer-shorts up to his knees, his fully-erect, hardened cock jumping out and slapping against his abdomen as he plays with it, “she was so distracted by them, we didn’t even have sex. Like, she was massaging them and nothing else!”

You gulp at the sight of San lick over his finger and spread the spit on his lip with an opened mouth, making him look very erotic and naughty. His masturbating doesn’t seem to be speeding up any time soon though, San’s little tale isn’t over yet.

“I mean, it didn’t get me frustrated,” San admits, “but it did make me realise that some people can be in it for different reasons~!” That’s where he’s going with it, huh?

Okay, maybe you aren’t being very truthful to yourself, if you think that you've succeeded in hiding your feelings from San.

Let it be the one instance when you told him you were currently only hooking up with him and nobody else, or the other, when you woke up earlier than him and Seonghwa was the one to make you breakfast, San hearing his roommate joke that he should “join you sometime” and you dismissed it by saying you prefer it “private” — San has been presented the picture numerous times now, the picture being you wanting more than this, more than playing around with each other.

Which makes it all worse.

“… And she was in it for my boobs!”, San giggles and you notice you haven’t been listening for some while, staring at his hand installed around his dick, pre-cum dripping onto your living room-floor.

“San, less talking, more making yourself come.”

“Heyy, where'd that come from?”, San wheezes and leans against the couch, propping himself up with one elbow, “I haven’t asked you yet, what you are in it for, my lo—“

“Stop, fucking hell, I wanted to see you cum! Do it, San. I thought you were going to give me a show, not tell me a bedtime-story.”

“Geez, I just wanted to ask you about your kinks~!” Of course.

Grinning, San pumps himself quicker, hissing and whimpering, enjoying having all your attention on him. And even though there's nothing you'd love to do more than sucking him off, you’re still keep your hands to yourself, massaging your own tits as somewhat an homage to his dubious anecdote, but also compensate the vibrating between your legs. You’ve gotten unbearably aroused.

“Shit, keep touching yourself like that,” San responds and hopefully he’s forgotten what he was asking for. Filled with a sudden rush, he sings: “Do you want to masturbate too? With me? Do that, it'll be so hot. I will watch you too! Please, touch yourself with me.”

Too irritated and horny to do anything else about it, you let your hand slide into your pyjamas, and you meet your wet pussy immediately. You drive your fingers over the slickness, silently exhaling.

“That’s so hot,” San admires you and his vocabulary seems to have minimized due to his drunkness. He intensifies his masturbation, the grip around himself becoming tighter, and as he begins to thrust his pelvis through the hole he’s created on his own with his balled fist, San hisses erotically. Still not in control of his body, his arm holding him up folds unintentionally. San trips, and you twitch out of worry which you quickly realise you shouldn’t have. It's just a short moment, dismissable at best and to he honest, San is the one who’s naked, but in this moment, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been. Fuck.

He doesn’t say anything, thankfully so, but as San moans and laughs simultaneously, almost with a mocking undertone, you don’t know whether the feeling inside your guts is your lust multiplying or your heart dropping. To get rid of bitter thoughts, you hope it’s the first and insert your fingers into yourself, trying to match the pace of San’s movement.

“You sure— that— you don’t need my help?”, San asks with not-so innocent intent, and his voice is strained from letting all the moans out as you told him to. “I really want to eat you out right now, there wasn’t anything to eat at the party… No food and too many cocktails~ Too many— oh, fuck…”

Becoming faster with his hands, it appears San is slowly approaching his orgasm, murmuring drunken words while you just started having fun with your own masturbation.

“Hold it,” you groan, trying to quicken up your pace.

“But,” San whines, working his ass front to back as he’s edged himself, “I even asked you, I— I can make you cum! I can make you cum without penetrating you, so please— just— let me cum! Didn’t you say you wanted to see me do that?”

“Changed my mind,” you say, scoffing at the whimpering man, sweat forming on his chest and dripping down his skin. “Now be a good boy and don’t cum until I say so.”

San is definitely exploring his submissive sides here, his brain almost doing a complete revamp when he hears himself be called "a good boy", a pant leaving his mouth, trying to follow your command. It’s like he’s become even more drunk, bathing in your praise when you hum: “Ohh, yes..”

Eyebrows pushed together, his dazy eyes disappear somewhere into the breaths of arousal in the thick air that’s been created between you two. San is crushed in between the pressure to perform well and his pure desire, the devilish voice inside his head whispering words of profanities to him. The blush accompanying the florid stains on his lip— San looks absolutely, endearingly fuckable.

“Oh my god," you gasp, hoarsely laughing at him, but mostly out of amazement, "you should see yourself right now."

"What? Do I look that good?", he snaps back, thrusting as fast as he tries to keep up with you, almost competing with the pace you're pleasuring yourself. Short of breath, San wheezes: "You sound so wet, and I bet that was all me, wasn't it? Because I look so good? I'm your type, aren't I? Nobody gets you like I do?"

"San—!”

Using your thumb to circle around your clitoris, you fall victim to San's provocative teasing that you’re not comprehending at all. All it takes is his sly, foxy side grin for you to understand that San is asking questions he knows the answers to, knows them a bit too well maybe, but he will not back down.

"Say it! You wouldn't have opened the door if I was someone else, would you?", he asks and you don't notice that he's leaning forward to you the more you fall back so you can reach your g-spot better. “Tell me, tell me what’s on your mind, you stopped doing that! Praise me more, aren’t I your hard-working camboy?”

"Don't act like you'd care!", it sizzles out of your mouth, a light-hearted chuckle following your answer as your finger slides over the spot that gets you moan the loudest, sparks of pleasure forming and exploding in your pants.

"Why? Am I not allowed to care now?"

San is special, but so are you, and for the faint of your own feelings you won't allow this man to destroy your will just yet. You're already struggling to drive yourself to an orgasm all by yourself when San could do it so much better, but you can't afford a drunken confession (even if you're not even the one who's drunk) even for the sake of it.

"As if you could care," you joke with a wheeze and you catch yourself stopping to care about it. There is no inherent shame in liking San, but if there was, you aren't going to be embarrassed within the safe walls of your own home. You need the orgasm first.

"Well, yeah, I don't, but I'd still like to hear it out of your pretty mouth," San gutters huskily with the same grin, approaching you even more so you can see his abs tense up— thighs almost shaking from the withheld orgasm— up-front. “Take your clothes off.”

There's that again, this shift of power that San loves to abuse. Like a fucking metronome switching from one side to another, San changes up, which makes it impossible to get into his head. He's too smart to be sabotaged into submission, he must do it by himself. He's a wild animal that way, preying on you with hungry eyes, waiting for the moment you're too distracted to fight back. "Distracted" meaning wanting his cock in your cunt, that is.

Hurrying the hell up, you hastily pull off your pants and panties over your legs, revealing your pulsating, throbbing pussy that has been rubbed to a numbingly sensitive state.

"Yeah, I knew it, you're so fucking wet, shit, you’re leaking," San sighs in awe, gulping at the sight of your labia be moved around by your fingers, still wanking. "You should know that I’m so mad that I can’t bury my face between your thighs— you're so, fuck, you're so gorgeous, you should be the one who's the camgirl, shit.”

By now, your and his face are mere centimetres from each other, and there’s this heat that drives both of you, his lewd words melting against your skin.

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," you sneer, flattered by his empty-minded eulogy, "I'm not going to let you fuck me even if you're being nice."

"Can you even make yourself cum with your own fingers?", San hisses pettily, watching them go in and out of you, daring you to go deeper, "I bet it doesn't feel like I do!”

"It doesn't, thank you very much," you quarrel and throw your head back for a moment to moan, accepting his challenge of resisting his soliciting. He’s piercing through you with lusty eyes— glassy from the orgasm he's been fleeing from since the beginning of your dispute, almost crying from being restrained that much.

"Are you close?", he whines, getting a bit impatient. "Please be close."

What? Do you think I'll let you cum?

"I'm so close," you whine back, speedening your fingers inside you, trying to thunder them as forcefully as possible to simulate the thickness and vigour of San.

“Good, that’s so very good.”

Sighs and pants leave through San’s opened lips and he looks for greed inside your irises, as you watch his shaft shimmer under the night-lights, imagining it pulsing through you, all of its girth stretching you out in a way you can’t achieve with your fingers from this angle.

“San,” you whimper, feeling your climax approaching quickly.

“Hmnh?”, the addressed man reacts, and his voice is shivering, waiting for you to say the magic words.

“San,” you moan again.

Tell me that you want me. How bad you want me. That you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours. That you’re thinking of nobody else, that you’ll only think of—

“I’m here, baby,” San answers and swings one hand around your neck, closing the small distance by pulling you closer to him; your lips clash together and his tongue eagerly slicks against yours, him heavily breathing inside your mouth. His saliva tastes of a life on the other side of the globe and as he thrusts into his grip with an unbelievable velocity, orgasming with strings of cum landing on your pyjamas, you feel otherworldly.

But San won’t stop milking himself until you have come to exhaustion as well: When he sees you push your lower body up, San throws his unoccupied hand under yours to take over your onanism, burying his digits inside you immediately. Surprised by his sudden gesture, you back your head away from the kiss, your body spasming together because of the overwhelming pleasure.

“You know you need me, don’tcha?”, San beams.

This is wrong, this is all wrong, this is not how you planned this, you cry, but by itself, your hand rubs over your clitoris repeatedly and because San has become a master in knowing where, when and how to finger you, it is impossible to not cum with him and become a moaning mess under his touch. It’s whirring, it’s sparking, San is trying to send you over the edge of the world and you’ll risk everything for it.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you whimper, feeling like you’re being intoxicated with the poisonous sucking at your neck and the stirring in your pussy; your body is being stimulated at so many points that it can’t catch up anymore. Not missing one beat, you scream out your orgasm, falling into the embrace of the muscular man who is barely any safety, his fingers not leaving your pussy.

“Be happy I’m not gonna shoot my second load into you, because your tiny pussy would feel so fucking perfect around my big cock right now and I could stretch it out so fucking nicely,” San growls intimidatingly, and you notice that his dick has become hard again right after his first orgasm, his stamina continuing to be one ridiculous weapon.

You moan, and apparently you’re not able to say anything except this, swinging your arms around his shoulders to not fall deeper into his fingers that are stirring your insides, “San!”

“What?”, he sneers and bites into your ear, “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“San, I—,” you start begging and reinforce the clasp to somehow make him slow down, tugging at his hair.

“Hmm? Yes? What are you? Coming? Being stupid for me again? Say it, say it for me, baby.”

“I, o- oh, stop, fuuck—!”, you whimper with the way he’s quaking you through and through, but your request gets lost in the sounds of your squirt meeting the floor. You see a lightning bolt strike in front of your eyes, your consciousness sent into the wide space of otherworldly dimensions: all you can hear his San’s stunned gasping once he realises what he’s achieved and him ejaculating the second time because of it, right on the spots he didn’t get the first time round.

“Holy fuck, mom~my,” he coos, finally letting you free, his own tension being relieved as well. San lets himself relax against the couch, taking you right with him on his bare, sweaty chest, your arms rested on his shoulders. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

You’re too busy catching your breath, the once-gone fatigue coming right back, hitting you like a wall. There’s nothing else on your mind rather than to cuddle into San’s arms and get some well-deserved sleep.

“Do you think you could do that on my dick?”, San asks and you can’t bear to answer. You’re lucky that his penis has gone limp, because you know that this man could continue for hours if he wanted to. “I think that just kicked all the booze out of me,” he pants and you know he’s lying by the way he’s continuing to lull. “I’ve made many girls squirt, but that was really something else. Maybe it’s because I never came with them. And I wasn’t even touching myself, can you believe that? You made me cum untouched, fuck…”

San has forgotten your first time.

And yeah, you want to blame it on the alcohol, you don’t know if he’s just mixing things up, whether his memories are hazy because of the months that have passed since the incident— but it’s the only way his surprised face makes sense. Of course people can forget and get confused, it’s just sex and fun after all, but it still feels… disappointing. Like the first time you found out he wasn’t all that “yours” after all, it’s not like he’s breaking any promise, rather than being a moment of “oh, but I thought— well, never-mind”.

“Hey, you can’t sleep now,” San reminds you, “you got my cum on your shirt.”

“I don’t care,” you mumble and rest your temple at his collarbone, stealing a glimpse of what appears to be San being on his phone that has been stashed inside his pants.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m gonna go,” San smiles.

“Go?”

“Not home! Did I scare you? You clutched me like there’s no tomorrow.”

You bite into his flesh to get him to shut up and he scrunches his nose.

“You make a very comfortable bed…”

“Yeah?” San puts away his phone and installs his arms around your waist, grabbing your ass in the process. “I’m glad.”

Ignoring that your naked privates are touching, you sigh into his skin. Because the taste has already entered your system, he doesn’t smell like alcohol anymore, he smells sugary sweet, the mild scent of his body leading you to further sleep. “Mhm, it’s the best,” you purr thoughtlessly, feeling safe in his hug.

“You’re only nice to me at times like this~,” San remarks with a pout and stands up with ease, carrying you to your bathroom. “You’re always so... gutsy when we have sex. Are you that dominant?”, he rambles silently, putting you down inside the space of the shower. While he talks, he does a little shimmy to instruct you to get your arms up. “You know I don’t mind, but I’m not lying when I ask you to call me stuff. Like nice stuff. Sexy nice stuff. Gets me on~”

“How are you still drunk?”, you ask, too exhausted to take your top off by yourself, letting San pull it off with his hands.

“Why?”, he asks sassily, throwing your shirt inside the clothing bin, quickly rushing to the living room and back to get his own clothing back, explaining: “It’s just something I noticed! Other girls don’t do it like you can! Like, calling me camboy was something, but then you were so mean with it—“

Returning back to the bathroom, he crosses his arms and leans against the shower door.

“If that’s too mean, you must really not like degradation,” you chuckle, sitting naked in front of him. “And you do dirty talk and call me whore.”

“You know that’s different!”, San argues, taking off his socks and grabbing the shower hose behind you. “I at least keep a balance with pet-names, don’t I, darling~?”

“Quite convincing,” you remark, barely perceiving the whole scene.

“Wait, can you—“

“Here you go.”

You stand up and walk back a step so San can have the same amount space inside the shower. You actually have never showered together before, so this one is a first, but who knows whether San is aware of this or not.

You don’t want to be too grim about it.

San turns on the water only to realise that it’s not going to get warm. “This is bad~!”, he pouts. “It’s too cold…”

“Maybe you’ll sober up with the shock?”

Getting some water in his hand, you fear he’s gonna splash it to you, but San only applies it to his arm which doesn’t even need the water by how sweaty it is.

“I dunno if I’ll get it on my hair, I just don’t wanna leave the alcohol stink over your bed~!”

… Sweet, angel boy. Don’t you be so nice to me. You’ll mistake it for something else, if he doesn’t stop.

“Hey, you good over there?”

“You,” you stammer, “you still have lipstick stains on your face.”

“What’s that mean, “still”? Did I come here with lipstick on my face?”

Okay, so maybe he hasn’t tried to get rid of them at all before he came in. Ouch? — Ugh, who cares, let’s get you to bed first. Over-thinking is for tomorrow, you’re fucked out of your mind and San will be tomorrow too, if the alcohol stays this long in his body.

A sigh which turns into a scoff leaves your mouth. “Yes, yes, you did.”

“Do you think it’ll leave a stain?”

“It should go away.”

“Help me~”

San lowers himself a little bit so you have better access to his flushed face and turns the pressure low so you can wet your hands with a little bit of water, before you carefully brush them over his lips which feel hot in the cold liquid.

“Thank you,” he whispers and you stare onto his soft lips as you answer, “no need to.”

“No, I should, like a nice ladies’ man is to do, right?”

San throws an award-winning, a bit loose-eyed smile at you and uncontrollably, you smile back at his dimples. It’s a heart-warming moment, though you fear the warmth is not going to last long. These lips aren’t yours, he’s proving to you that they’re not yours— shit, fuck, damn it— you will probably not get over this for the rest of the night, if you don’t change the topic soon.

“Yeah. You.. ladies’ man.”

“You said that!”

“I did?”

“Well, actually, I don’t know, I think it was “people-pleaser” or something, actually, but I like.. Well, I actually like both!”

“You like being called a ladies’ man and people-pleaser?”

Rubbing his lower lip with your thumb, you question San’s understanding of the words he apparently enjoys to be described as. What a San-thing to do, you smirk to yourself.

“Seonghwa agrees!”

“With what, that they’re good words?”

“No, he said that they describe me pretty well.”

“Ah.”

“Do you agree?”

You inhale sharply and bite your lip, meeting his sunken eyes, a bit droopy from the exhaustion finally hitting your black-haired apprentice as well.

“I,” you start to say, “I don’t know. When I said that, … I meant something else, I think.”

“You think so?”

You know so.

“Because it’s, hm, I don’t know. Nice, isn’t it? The thought of being wanted by two groups? The ladies~ The people~ I’m their man, I’m their pleaser, you know?”

“Yeah, you please ‘em very well. There you go. Praise. Are you happy?”

San nods enthusiastically and hugs you, forgetting that he has ice-cold water running inside his hand, getting your whole back stunned.

“SAN!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so—!” His eyes are big, but he’s laughing, he’s laughing very loudly, getting the shower off and hugging you again, leaving balmy kisses all over your face. “Sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, I’m unforgivable!”

Except maybe he is.

When San tugs you in, waiting until you don’t answer his late-night questions of “who invented the camera” and “who was the first live-streamer” to tell himself goodnight and fall asleep immediately, you feel at ease: Disregarding that it took alcohol, will again take alcohol to have moments like these, there’s hope that there is still a little bit of Sannie that you can salvage.

He may not be yours yet, and for what he ensues it will take a damned long time for him to be, but San is here, laying in bed with you, one hand extended out, perfectly formed for your hand to fit in it and oh, how fit in it does.

part three: “the red he leaves is different [i wish it was]”

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #choi san scenarios #choi san smut #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser #chokkiwa

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fatehbaz · 4 months

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Coral today is an icon of environmental crisis, its disappearance from the world’s oceans an emblem for the richness of forms and habitats either lost to us or at risk. Yet, as Michelle Currie Navakas shows in her eloquent book, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America, our accounts today of coral as beauty, loss, and precarious future depend on an inherited language from the nineteenth century. [...] Navakas traces how coral became the material with which writers, poets, and artists debated community, labor, and polity in the United States.

The coral reef produced a compelling teleological vision of the nation: just as the minute coral “insect,” working invisibly under the waves, built immense structures that accumulated through efforts of countless others, living and dead, so the nation’s developing form depended on the countless workers whose individuality was almost impossible to detect. This identification of coral with human communities, Navakas shows, was not only revisited but also revised and challenged throughout the century. Coral had a global biography, a history as currency and ornament that linked it to the violence of slavery. It was also already a talisman - readymade for a modern symbol [...]. Not least, for nineteenth-century readers in the United States, it was also an artifact of knowledge and discovery, with coral fans and branches brought back from the Pacific and Indian Oceans to sit in American parlors and museums. [...]

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[W]ith material culture analysis, [...] [there are] three common early American coral artifacts, familiar objects that made coral as a substance much more familiar to the nineteenth century than today: red coral beads for jewelry, the coral teething toy, and the natural history specimen. This chapter is a visual tour de force, bringing together a fascinating range of representations of coral in nineteenth-century painting and sculptures.

With the material presence of coral firmly in place, Navakas returns us to its place in texts as metaphor for labor, with close readings of poetry and ephemeral literature up to the Civil War era. [...] [Navakas] includes an intriguing examination of the posthumous reputation of the eighteenth-century French naturalist Jean-André Peyssonnel who first claimed that coral should be classed as an animal (or “insect”), not plant. Navakas then [...] considers white reformers, both male and female, and Black authors and activists, including James McCune Smith and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, and a singular Black charitable association in Cleveland, Ohio, at the end of the century, called the Coral Builders’ Society. [...]

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Most strikingly, her attention to layered knowledge allows her to examine the subversions of coral imagery that arose [...]. Obviously, the mid-nineteenth-century poems that lauded coral as a metaphor for laboring men who raised solid structures for a collective future also sought to naturalize a system that kept some kinds of labor and some kinds of people firmly pressed beneath the surface. Coral’s biography, she notes, was “inseparable from colonial violence at almost every turn” (p. 7). Yet coral was also part of the material history of the Black Atlantic: red coral beads were currency [...].

Thus, a children’s Christmas story, “The Story of a Coral Bracelet” (1861), written by a West Indian writer, Sophy Moody, described the coral trade in the structure of a slave narrative. [...] In addition, coral’s protean shapes and ambiguity - rock, plant, or animal? - gave Americans a model for the difficulty of defining essential qualities from surface appearance, a message that troubled biological essentialists but attracted abolitionists. Navakas thus repeatedly brings into view the racialized and gendered meanings of coral [...].

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Some readers from the blue humanities will want more attention, for example, to [...] different oceans [...]: Navakas’s gaze is clearly eastward to the Atlantic and Mediterranean and (to a degree) to the Caribbean. Many of her sources keep her to the northern and southeastern United States and its vision of America, even though much of the natural historical explorations, not to mention the missionary interest in coral islands, turns decidedly to the Pacific. [...] First, under my hat as a historian of science, I note [...] [that] [q]uestions about the structure of coral islands among naturalists for the rest of the century pitted supporters of Darwinian evolutionary theory against his opponents [...]. These disputes surely sustained the liveliness of coral - its teleology and its ambiguities - in popular American literature. [...]

My second desire, from the standpoint of Victorian studies, is for a more specific account of religious traditions and coral. While Navakas identifies many writers of coral poetry and fables, both British and American, as “evangelical,” she avoids detailed analysis of the theological context that would be relevant, such as the millennial fascination with chaos and reconstruction and the intense Anglo-American missionary interest in the Pacific. [...] [However] reasons for this move are quickly apparent. First, her focus on coral as an icon that enabled explicit discussion of labor and community means that she takes the more familiar arguments connecting natural history and Christianity in this period as a given. [...] Coral, she argues, is most significant as an object of/in translation, mediating across the Black Atlantic and between many particular cultures. These critical strategies are easy to understand and accept, and yet the word - the script, in her terms - that I kept waiting for her to take up was “monuments”: a favorite nineteenth-century description of coral.

Navakas does often refer to the awareness of coral “temporalities” - how coral served as metaphor for the bridges between past, present, and future. Yet the way that a coral reef was understood as a literal graveyard, in an age that made death practices and new forms of cemeteries so vital a part of social and civic bonds, seems to deserve a place in this study. These are a greedy reader’s questions, wanting more. As Navakas notes in a thoughtful coda, the method of the environmental humanities is to understand our present circumstances as framed by legacies from the past, legacies that are never smooth but point us to friction and complexity.

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All text above by: Katharine Anderson. "Review of Navakas, Michele Currie, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America." H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. December 2023. Published at: [networks.h-net.org/group/reviews/20017692/anderson-navakas-coral-lives-literature-labor-and-making-america] [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

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hyperions-fate · 10 months

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The media promote the war, the war promotes the media, and advertising competes with the war. Promotion is the most thick-skinned parasite in our culture. It would undoubtedly survive a nuclear conflict. It is our Last Judgement. But it is also like a biological function: it devours our substance, but it also allows us to metabolise what we absorb, like a parasitic plant or intestinal flora, it allows us to turn the world and the violence of the world into a consumable substance. So, war or promotion?

Jean Baudrillard, The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (1991)

#Jean Baudrillard #The Gulf War Did Not Take Place

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auspicious-manner · 11 months

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heyy!! a request for graham dunne where you’re in a secret relationship and you tell everyone that you’re together by kissing on stage 😈😈😈 please and thanks no pressure 😽😽

THE WAY I YELPED WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY INBOX IM SO EXCITED AHH looks like my tags found the right audience! i have a few more djats prompts other people sent in thank you all sm 🤭

also this ended up WAY longer than i wanted it to be oops, hope y’all like slightly longer stories

also i glossed over a lot of big events within the show because i just wanted to get to the point lol.

fem reader x graham dunne

warnings: some substance abuse

Crazy For You

•

before there was daisy jones and the six, there was just the six. before daisy jones was the leading lady of the band, it was you.

way back in the pittsburgh days, you never knew what was going to come your way when you moved into the empty house right next to the dunne brothers. you knew they caused a racket every time they decided to host a band rehearsal, and it took every ounce of patience left in you to not storm over there and demand them to clean up their sound.

then on one fateful day, your world changed forever. as you were taking the garbage out, you sang at last by etta james to yourself, not thinking anything of it. you got lost in your own voice.

then, your trance was broken when you heard a scuffle of feet coming from your left. your head whipped to the side, and you saw one of the dunne brothers in his driveway listening to you with a smile.

“oh god, that’s embarrassing,” you said, turning your head the opposite direction.

you heard a laugh come from him, but you kept your eyes away from him in embarrassment.

“you have a lovely voice,” he said. you braved looking at him once more, and he was smiling at you. the boy looked to be about your age.

“thanks, but it’s really nothing. i’m not trained or anything,” you replied sheepishly.

“i’m Y/N, by the way,” you said, walking over to him with your hand extended.

he met you in the middle, reaching out and taking your hand. “i’m graham. graham dunne.”

you blushed a bit when he held onto your hand for longer. “nice to meet you graham dunne.”

he nodded, and your hands released. there was a pause in the conversation before graham began again. “do you like rock and roll?”

you smiled. “yeah, i do. i play some guitar. why do you ask?”

graham was now gently blushing. “i-i’m in a rock band, and i play guitar too. maybe sometime you can stop by and watch us rehearse.”

you bit your lip slightly. “i know you’re in a band.”

he looked taken aback, and you realized how insane that sounded. you quickly backtracked, looking down. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just knew you were in a band because i’ve heard you before. like, rehearsing from my house.”

he smiled understandingly. “did you like our sound?” graham asked. he was wringing his hands nervously.

you decided to mess with him. “yeah, you sounded okay,” you said jokingly.

graham rolled his eyes. “maybe if you stop by someday i’ll play better just for you.”

the blush in your cheeks creeped back into place. “will do.”

graham gave you his phone number, and only a day later, invited you to a rehearsal at their bandmate’s house.

after your interaction with graham the previous day, your mind was flooded with little thoughts of him. the way his hand lingered on yours. the way he blushed when you talked. the way he smiled lightly when you blushed. something about graham dunne made your heart race, and you barely even knew the guy.

you felt the need to dress nicely for this. you wanted graham to be impressed. you put on a pair of jean shorts paired with a halter top and a jacket.

you met at a boy named chuck’s house. the band was already setting up in his garage, and graham smiled when you arrived.

“hey, you made it!” he said excitedly, running over to greet you.

you grinned. “i’m glad to be here. where should i sit?”

“let me introduce you to the band first.” graham gently placed his hand on your lower back, walking with you further into the garage. you hoped he didn’t feel the shiver going up your spine under his touch.

“guys, this is Y/N. she’s billy and i’s new neighbor. Y/N, this is warren, chuck, eddie, and my brother billy,” he said, pointing to each of the members. you took note of how warren, chuck, and eddie seemed to be yours and graham’s age, around sixteen. billy, however, was older. without even knowing the band, it was clear he was the one in charge. he seemed to be the most experienced.

the band smiled at you. billy stepped forward slightly. “it’s good to meet you. i hope you like what we play.”

graham placed you slightly off to the side of the band, and you sat down on a box in the garage. the band finished setting up their equipment, and discussed billy’s new song he had just written for the band to play.

as the group figured out their chords, your eyes were locked on graham. you watched the way he effortlessly played his guitar, and how clean and crisp his notes were. to you, nothing was more attractive than a man who could play guitar.

after running through the song multiple times, the band knew something wasn’t working. “maybe it’s just the song. i think we should just-” eddie had started before being interrupted by billy.

“there’s nothing wrong with the damn song. i know what i’m doing. graham, try speeding up the chorus a bit, and warren, lengthen your fills just a bit more, see what that does. let’s run it again.”

everyone seemed to roll their eyes at billy’s orders before warren counted them in to begin again. once again, it was a failure; it just didn’t sound right. it was missing something.

“eddie, man, what are you doing back there? you’re changing chords and everything,” billy said, frustrated.”

“i’m doing nothing wrong! this is your song, you should know how to fix it!” eddie exclaimed back. the entire band was now arguing, and before you could even think about it, you were standing up and speaking.

“it needs a harmony.”

the commotion stopped, and all eyes were on you. your face grew hot due to the intense gazes falling onto you. you gulped nervously.

“what?” billy asked.

“it needs a high harmony in the chorus. to, you know, go with billy’s voice,” you said timidly.

billy scoffed. “what would you know?”

graham stepped up to billy. “Y/N’s got a great voice, i’ve heard it. she could do the harmonies.”

billy raised an eyebrow at you. you looked between all the band members before speaking again. “i don’t want to intrude-”

warren spoke up. “i think it’s worth a shot. we’re desperate for something to work at this point.” he pointed at you with his drum stick. “you know the song?”

you nodded. graham set up another microphone stand next to billy’s, and you stood behind the mic. you suddenly regretted speaking up at all on matters that didn’t ever pertain to you.

warren counted it in again. billy got through the first verse, and you focused on your breathing. don’t mess up in front of graham.

he got to the chorus, and you added a layer of your light voice on top of billy’s. you saw out of the corner of your eye billy turning to you, a look of amazement in his eyes. it was working. it sounded phenomenal. although you couldn’t see it, graham was watching in awe. he got chills watching you from behind. before you even knew it, the song ended, and the band erupted into wide grins and loud cheers.

and just like that, you were in the band.

billy didn’t like sharing the spotlight, and quite frankly, you weren’t a fan of it either. however, billy put up with it because he found your harmonies necessary to certain songs and you were close friends with his brother. you stuck to mainly harmonies and, when chuck left and eddie took over bass, you took control of rhythm guitar.

throughout the band’s beginnings in pittsburgh, graham quickly became your best friend. you spent most of your time with him, and he spent most of his time with you. despite being friends, he still gave you butterflies any time he glanced at you. you always wanted to impress him. however, there was a very real possibility that he didn’t get those same butterflies.

the band found more and more gigs in the area, and billy’s girlfriend camila was now traveling with the pack. you two quickly got to know each other and became fast friends.

things began moving in a blur when warren bought a van and the band decided to move out to california. for you, deciding to move was an easy choice; the only part of pittsburgh that brought you any sort of joy was this band. you wouldn’t be caught dead staying in that city without them. and, as the cherry on top of the cake, camila was coming too.

the van arrived in front of your house and billy and graham’s. rain was endlessly pouring, and you only noticed this after you had dragged all of your belongings out the door onto your front porch. your one and only jacket was tucked away into one of your suitcases.

graham looked back at you from the van, his curly hair flattened under the rain. he saw you eyeing the downpour, and ran up to your door.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

he took his jacket and held it above your head for you to take. as soon as you did, he took your suitcases and began walking to the van. you smiled wide at his manners.

you stayed dry under graham’s jacket, and you were encompassed by it’s smell. it smelled like him.

you watched as graham tied your bags to the top of the van. “do you need help?” you asked.

“nope. go get dry in the van.”

“are you sure?” you asked.

he laughed. “Y/N, yes, i’m positive.”

unbeknownst to you, graham would do anything to keep his girl safe and dry, even from just a bit of rain.

graham wasn’t great with expressing his true feelings. it was easier to tuck it away and forget about it rather than exploring it. that’s how he felt about you. he had some complex thoughts about you, ones he was hesitant to call a crush. he tried his hardest to keep these feelings at bay, but it was getting increasingly harder for him to control.

after many long nights on the road, sleeping next to graham in the van and totally swooning over him at every second, you arrived in sunny california.

the band’s new house barely deserved to be called a home. but, given the circumstances, it did it’s job. you took the room that the boys claimed was haunted, even though it wasn’t.

not long after settling into california, a keyboardist named karen sirko joined the band. she also quickly became a close friend to you. camila, karen, and you became your own girl group.

over the next months, you had gigs on the strip, and you felt like you were finally making it. you started drinking and smoking more than ever before, and performing on stage gave you a rush. and, not to mention, performing alongside graham was pretty great too.

then one night, while on the infamous first tour, you and graham got wasted at a party with the band.

with all the alcohol and other drugs in your system, you felt bold enough to speak your mind.

“graham, can i ask you something?” you said, trying not to slur your words. the other guys and karen were talking up girls and having their own side conversations through the blaring music.

he turned to you. “what’s that?”

you took a deep breath. “am i crazy?”

graham paused before giggling. “what is that supposed to mean?”

you couldn’t help but laugh too. “do we have something? or am i just imagining it and i’m out of my fucking mind?”

graham’s smile dropped. his eyes squinted as he stared at you. he was thinking hard. “wait…what?”

you rolled your eyes. “for god’s sake graham, i like you. i don’t know if you like me, but i need to know if you feel the same way or if this is all in my head.”

he looked away and nodded. you expected the worst. when he remained silent, you knew you had just messed up probably the greatest friendship in your life.

without saying a word, graham looked around the room and took your wrist, walking away and dragging you with him.

“graham, what the hell?” you asked. you tried not to stumble as he walked. he took you outside behind the building. “look graham, i’m sorry i said that. i should have known you didn’t feel the same, and i-”

before you could finish your sentence, graham spun you so your back was against the wall and his lips were on yours. his hands slowly moved to the sides of your face.

you both pulled away. “woah,” you whispered.

you began making out again, only rougher this time. graham pulled his lips away, resting his forehead on yours. “let’s take this back to my room.”

the next morning, you woke up in a different room than your own, the bright sunlight shining through the window. you felt disoriented. you groaned, a splitting headache causing your body to freeze.

you rolled over, seeing graham sleeping next to you in bed. you quickly sat up, instantly regretting it due to the increased pain in your head.

not only that, but you looked down to see your bare breasts out. then, you noticed you had no underwear on.

“holy shit!” you exclaimed loudly before clasping a hand over your mouth, realizing graham was still sleeping. he rolled over, not waking.

you remained frozen where you sat. i just banged graham, you thought.

you took your shirt that laid disheveled on the floor and put it on, along with your underwear. however, when you got to your pants, the room began to spin due to your hangover and you tripped, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

graham sat up. “what the hell was- holy shit,” graham said, stopping what he was saying as you stood up from the ground.

you sighed. “i said the same thing.”

“what are you-” he began before widening his eyes. “oh my god i remember.”

“did we really sleep together?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

graham nodded. “i think we did it more than once.”

you thought about it. “actually, i think you’re right. was it two times?”

graham contemplated again. “no, it was three.”

“was it…?” you trailed off. then, it hit you. “oh my god you’re right. it was definitely three.”

graham slipped on some boxers under the blankets. “well, what does this mean? for us?”

you sighed. you walked over to the bed, facing him. “i don’t know. i know what i want, but what about you?”

he began to speak, but stopped. then a small smile appeared on his lips. “if i’m being totally honest, Y/N,” your heart raced at the sound of your name. “i’ve liked you from the moment i heard you singing in your driveway that one day. you’ve had a hold on me ever since.”

your heart felt like it skipped a beat. you couldn’t help but laugh like a middle school girl with her first crush. “i feel the same way about you.”

graham blushed. “everything about you is attractive to me,” he started. “your voice, your guitar, your body, your spirit, everything. i’ve kept these feelings about you private, even to myself, from the moment i met you. but now i know that what i feel is real.”

you smiled, slowly leaning in. you placed your lips onto his, and you gently rested your hands on his neck. you pulled away, your faces still remaining close to each other. you giggled. “i was okay with our friendship, but this is so much better.”

collectively, you both decided to keep this information from the band. they didn’t need to know. and more importantly, you didn’t need rumors to get out to the press about your relationship. you knew that you’d be framed as the tag along of the group, only there because of graham. so, it stayed a secret.

and you played the secret very well. no one suspected a thing besides a close friendship. even then, both of you agreed to tone down being near each other around the band in order to keep suspicions low. after the devastating first tour, karen and camila had even tried to ask you about your friendship with graham and why it seemed to be dissipating.

your answer? you just weren’t as close as you used to be. in reality, you were much much closer.

you were sleeping together at every opportunity. in one of your rooms back at the house, in bathrooms at the studio, everywhere you could.

but there was substance to it too. it wasn’t all sex. you had your deepest moments with graham. you would stay wide awake into the late hours of the night just talking about anything and everything. with your head laying on his bare chest and his arm slung around your shoulders, everything felt perfect despite the rough patch the band was in.

then daisy came along.

teddy believed the band needed a strong female vocalist to lead the band alongside billy, and that wasn’t you. you didn’t take offense to it, you knew your voice was better suited for harmonies and softer songs rather than belting out rock songs.

with the addition of a new person in the band, your spot at the mic next to billy was taken, and you were moved next to graham with a mic. secretly, you were happy because this meant that you could exchange meaningful looks even more than before.

your first time playing live with the new setup was in hawaii, and you took your place next to graham. graham leaned into your ear while on stage. “you look beautiful today.”

warren began the drum beat of look at us now. you tried to contain your smile. “you’re distracting.”

as the song built into the guitar solo, you watched as graham went mad on the strings. the sound rang clearly, and you realized how much you had been missing when you were standing next to billy on stage. you glanced around the stage. all of them were gleaming and playing their hearts out. it was beautiful to see for the first time and you proudly smiled to yourself.

graham finished the guitar solo, and he looked up at you when he finished almost as if to see your reaction to what he did, and get your approval. you nodded at him, a proud look in your eyes. you felt yourself falling in love with this boy more and more every day.

you went back to the hotel after the electrifying performance, and you heard a knock at your door. upon opening it, you found a smiling graham.

“so, how’d i do?” he asked.

you couldn’t help but grin, and your eyes flashed to his lips before tugging him into your room by his shirt and crashing your lips against his. graham felt taken aback, but not unwilling. he found his footing before pulling away briefly to lock the door, going right back into it. he led you to the bed, where you laid down on your back as graham towered over you.

you began unbuttoning his shirt, and he began to lift yours off. when he had just slid your shirt off, a pounding knock came from your door.

the two of you quickly pulled away, and graham grabbed his shirt before scooting away from you to the other side of the bed.

“uh-coming! give me-um… a few seconds!” you shouted, putting your clothes back on. you turned on the tv, so it looked like you and graham were doing nothing more than watching shows together.

“no worries!” daisy’s voice rang out from the other side.

you looked at graham, eyes squinting. “daisy?” you mouthed to him. he shrugged, knowing nothing more than you. you were just surprised to hear her voice, since you hadn’t had all that much time to talk one on one.

you finally felt relatively put together and unlocked the door, revealing daisy.

“hi, come in,” you awkwardly told her, opening the door wider for her to step in.

“thanks Y/N,” she stopped partially in the room. “oh, hey graham.”

graham waved happily. you rolled your eyes at his cuteness.

“so, i have a proposition for you,” daisy asked, looking at you with intention. “let me know what you think.”

you sat down at the edge of the bed. “sure, let me hear it.”

“i feel weird taking your role as the female vocalist of the group. i know you said you really didn’t mind, but i want to offer you a song on the upcoming album.”

your eyes widened. it was a sweet offer, but practically impossible. “that’s very nice of you daisy, but i can’t write songs.”

she smiled. “that’s why i’m here.” she looked at graham behind you before continuing. “even graham could help with the musical arrangements. if you’re down for that, of course,” she said to him.

“yeah, i’d love to.”

“but wait,” you started. “there’s no way in hell billy will allow this.”

daisy smiled again, more mischievous this time. “we can deal with him,” she said, motioning to herself and graham. “if we write a damn good song, he’ll have no choice but to add it to the album.”

it would be nice to hear your voice on a record without billy’s overpowering voice drowning yours out. the offer was tempting.

“what the hell, let’s do it.”

daisy got her song book out, and graham left while you two came up with the words.

“so, you and graham?” daisy asked with a smirk.

your face went white. “us? no, we’re just friends. nothing more.”

daisy huffed, not believing it. “right.”

you laughed. “daisy, i’m being serious. there’s nothing going on.”

“okay, sure. so you opening the door looking completely a mess only to find graham looking equally as guilty on your bed meant absolutely nothing?”

you looked down, biting your lip. “don’t tell anyone.”

she laughed. “i knew it.”

after discussing what the song was going to be about, you decided you wanted it to be a love song. about graham. you wanted the song to have the feeling of being on top of the world, floating on a high like you feel with graham. eventually, you two came upon a name: clouds.

daisy began writing ideas for lyrics while you tested out new melodies. after about two hours, you had an acoustic version of your own song. you didn’t think you’d be this excited about it.

the song started off light and soft, with only piano and vocals at the beginning. as the song progressed, the energy built representing the excitement of being with him, and there was a guitar solo reserved for graham in the middle.

“Y/N, this is a damn good song,” daisy told you.

upon arriving back in california, graham asked you about the song as you were walking into the studio. “it’s coming along,” you answered, not wanting to give too much away.

“that’s all?” he asked.

“yeah.”

he stepped in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. graham looked down at you, searching your eyes for answers.

“you’re not telling me everything.”

you giggled. you stepped closer to him, putting a hand on his chest. “you’ll see,” you said quietly, almost seductively, walking past him. although you couldn’t see it, graham got flustered. you always knew how to rile him up.

going into the studio, daisy met up with you first.

“you ready?” she asked, referring to proposing the song to billy.

you nodded, following daisy to where billy was sat.

“we have a song for you,” daisy bluntly said to billy.

he looked between both of you. “what?”

“we have a song that we wrote together that we want on the album,” daisy told him.

billy scoffed. “no. we write all the songs, and besides, Y/N just does harmonies. i’d like to keep it that way.”

he began to get up. “it doesn’t have to be,” you said. “it’s just one song. let us at least play it for you and the band, see what you think.”

he paused. if it were just daisy, he would have denied the song again. but, billy had a soft spot for you. “fine. make it quick.”

the band gathered around you and daisy, who was on the piano. you shot graham a wink, and he lightly blushed.

“this song is called clouds,” you said into the microphone. you noticed teddy watching from behind the rest of the band.

daisy began playing the piano and you began to song. your light, airy voice filled the room as you tried to not focus on the harsh pairs of eyes staring you down. the song was almost psychedelic, sending everyone in the room into a trance. you got lost in your own voice.

as you approached the chorus, you began playing the guitar, picking up the pace of the song. you happened to glance over at graham, who was beaming from ear to ear. he knew the song was about him.

you left an open slot in the music for graham’s future guitar solo, and you gestured to him to make it clear. the song wrapped up, and you looked up from your guitar. the band stood looking at each other, in awe. the only sound was a disembodied round of applause coming from teddy as he walked towards the band. they all turned to look at him.

“let’s get that song recorded.”

as the studio crew set up all the necessary equipment needed to record, you took a walk through the halls of the studio. as you passed the door to the storage room, a hand grabbed yours and pulled you in. you didn’t even have to look at who it was; you knew it was graham.

he closed the door and placed a long, sweet kiss on your lips. when he pulled away, his hands brushed away your hair on the sides of your head and fell lightly on either sides of your jawline.

“you are fucking incredible. i’m so proud of you,” he said, wrapping you in a hug. you giggle and hug back.

“i can’t wait for the world to see that you’re more than just a harmony.”

you pulled away, and his hands rested on your hips. “i have something to tell you.” you said quietly.

his smile fell just a bit. “yeah sure, what is it?”

you bit your lip. “if it wasn’t obvious in the song… i love you.”

he paused before he kissed you again, more passionately this time. he rested his forehead on yours, his hands still on your cheeks. “i love you too, darling.”

during the aurora sessions, you and graham continued to date in secrecy. while the rest of the band was recording their parts, you two would sneak off and do other things together. sometimes those other things involved unprompted sex, other times it was just sitting and talking, with your arms wrapped around each other. either way, every time you’d come back, daisy would nudge your arm playfully and knowingly.

daisy was a good friend to have. she kept your secret locked away, and showed no signs of revealing it to the world. you appreciated her help and guidance.

you and the band recorded all the songs on aurora, and even had your own cover shoot. it felt surreal to finally make it big, after all the trials and tribulations of your band’s early years.

then, when the album released, it was instantly a massive hit. you were on radios, tv, billboards, everything all at once. hearing clouds come on the radio for the first time almost made you cry tears of joy. that was your song, for your graham.

then, it was time for another tour. a bigger, more controlled one than last time. you all knew to not screw this one up like you did the last time. this one was too important to waste.

then, the morning of your first performance on tour, you and graham got into your biggest disagreement yet. you had a few arguments before, but this was so much more intense . this hurt more.

that morning, you were walking through the halls of the hotel, on a mission to find graham before the big night. when you approached his room and saw his door partially cracked with voices coming from it, you walked over to it to see who was there with him. it was warren and eddie, smoking a joint with graham talking about clouds.

“that’s a killer song she wrote with daisy, who do you think it’s about?” warren asked, removing the joint from his lips.

eddie spoke up. “she’s never talked about being in love before. maybe it’s not that deep, and it’s just a song.”

“or maybe it’s about you, guitar boy,” warren said while laughing, hitting graham’s arm.

“i don’t think so. there’s nothing going on between us.”

good cover graham.

“well, you two are good friends, right?” eddie asked him.

graham tilted his head. “sort of. we used to be pretty close in the early days, but not so much anymore. she’s a little clingy. i mostly talk to her when i have no one else to talk with. we’re friends, but not all that close. at least, not like we once were. if that song is about me, i don’t feel the same way.”

what he said didn’t feel like a cover like his previous statement did. that felt real. and it cut deep. he called you clingy? he said you weren’t very close? a cover for your relationship is one thing, but he blatantly denied a real friendship in front of the boys and made you seem like a fool for falling for a boy that didn’t like you back. tears built in your eyes, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run and hide or face him.

before you even thought about what you were doing, you pushed the door open with a creak as all three of them turned to face you, a singular tear falling to the floor.

“ah shit,” warren mumbled.

“Y/N, i-what are you doing?” graham asked. he instantly knew you heard everything.

you began to speak, but couldn’t find words. you just shook your head and ran down the hall, back to the safety of your room. you locked the door behind you and leaned your back against it, more tears spilling out as you heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Y/N, i’m sorry, let me in. i need to explain,” graham said from the other side.

“you can’t take back what you said, graham. i heard it, it’s out there, and now i look like the idiot. does that make you happy?” you replied.

“no it doesn’t. you make me happy. i said those things so they would get off my case. i was covering us up. i-”

you opened the door, face to face with him. his heart seemed to shatter at the sight of the tears still stuck to your cheeks.

“that didn’t sound like a cover, graham. it’s one thing to deny our romance, but another to deny our friendship all together and paint me to be the naive, pesky one. you made me look stupid, and now those boys are going to tell the rest of the band what you said.”

graham frowned. he knew he messed up. he looked down, avoiding your harsh gaze.

you sniffled. “and you can’t even look me in the eye.”

you shut the door again. you eyed the alcohol sitting on the desk in your room, and opened a bottle of beer. you downed it, preparing to open another one.

leading up to the performance, you avoided all your bandmates in efforts to save yourself from the embarrassment that graham caused. the word was probably out to all of them now about what graham said; warren can’t keep secrets for the life of him.

you drank a few more beers and took a few pills to get you through the day and night. they took away the pain graham had caused. looking at yourself in the mirror, you had a full denim jumpsuit on that came up around your neck into a halter top. you left your hair down and wavy and added dramatic grey eye makeup.

backstage shortly before you went on, graham came up behind you. “can we talk?”

you made no eye contact. “about what?”

“…about earlier.”

“what is there to say? it seems like you said everything you needed to say to warren and eddie.”

he rested his hand on your bare shoulder. his touch gave you the chills like it always had. “i’m so sorry, Y/N. i genuinely didn’t mean to hurt you like that. i didn’t even think about what i was saying, i just said it. i didn’t think about the consequences like i should have. what can i do to make you not angry at me?”

you paused. every ounce of your body wanted to take him back and hug him, but your mind said otherwise.

you finally turned around to meet his glossy eyes. “prove to everyone that you want this.”

the band ran onto the stage, beginning their first ever setlist on their new and improved tour. despite the still sour mood you were in, the adrenaline with the crowd and the traces of drugs running through your veins made you smile. you felt like a goddess. throughout the show, you felt graham’s gaze periodically fall onto you, and you tried your hardest to ignore it. you were living in the moment and didn’t need him as a distraction.

then, your time came. it was time to sing clouds in front of a full auditorium of people. luckily, your adrenaline was stronger than your nerves.

daisy spoke into the mic. “up next, i would like to introduce the backbone of this group, the glue that holds us together, and one of my very best friends. she adds the most beautiful harmonies to all of our songs, here is Y/N L/N.”

daisy bowed down, shuffling to the back to give you the mic. before you reached the mic, she gave you a quick but supportive hug.

you handed billy your guitar, and stepped up to the mic as the applause died. seeing the faces in the dim crowd made you more nervous. you felt graham’s eyes burning into your back.

“hello, everyone,” you said slowly. you talked methodically. “this song is for anyone who is in love.” you thought about your own experience with love, and the overwhelming love you still felt for graham.

as karen started the piano, your mind was brought back to graham once again. you just wanted everything to be okay like it used to be. but you knew you had to see the effort from his part. he needed to somehow dispel the image he created of you being the clingy, lonely girl of the band who was helplessly pining over the guitarist. it was up to him now.

you rvoice started, crackly at first, but soon finding the rhythm of the music. your vision for this song was to make who ever heard it feel like they were high in the sky, laying upon the soft clouds. to hear it all coming together live on stage was ethereal. you knew it was working.

the song picked up, and the drums, guitar, and bass sounded behind you. it sounded magical, but maybe it was just the drugs and alcohol.

you glanced behind you to see daisy playing the tambourine next to graham, who kept his eyes on you throughout his entire guitar solo. the crowd roared, but all you saw and heard was graham. you lightly smiled at him, and he smiled back. he was all that mattered in that moment.

the song finished, and you stepped to the side of the mic, taking a large bow. before you could turn to get your guitar from billy, footsteps sounded behind you and a hand was on your shoulder, turning you around. it was graham.

“graham, what-”

before you could say anything, graham took your face in his hands and tilted your head up. “i’m going to prove it to you and everyone else.” as you began to speak again, he leaned down, laying a long kiss on your lips. the crowd went wild. although you couldn’t see it, the jaws of everyone in the band besides daisy dropped, who had a proud smirk on her face.

when you two pulled away, his hands fell to your waist and you held his forearms.

“are you crazy?” you asked playfully.

he smiled. it felt like only you two up on the stage. all you saw was him and his bright eyes and curly hair. “crazy for you.”

#daisy jones and the six #djats series #graham dunne #graham dunne x reader #billy dunne #billy dunne x reader #warren rojas x reader #warren rojas #daisy jones fanfic #karen sirko #camila dunne

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