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lovystar · 7 months

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❝ A PRINCESS’ WILL ❞ ; BADA LEE

synopsis──after an assassination attempt, the queen invites the very best fighters from across the land to compete for the great honor of protecting you, the princess.

content──bada lee x unnamed fem!oc (reader). princess!reader, soldier under disguise!bada. currently unedited, pls be nice lol. fictional combination of medieval european and korea’s joseon dynasty aspects bc im not too concerned about making it realistic. incorrect pronouns (when not in bada’s pov). this world is matrilineal bc I said so. bada's a flirt. eventual smut w/ switch!bada.

word count ── approx. 5.4k

───

YOUR MOTHER’S STRONG HOLD—on the country, on the castle, on her children, and on you in particular as the oldest—was suffocating. You were destined to rule over millions, and your mother would not let you forget it. You had to be strong, caring for your people but unforgiving to others. That’s how she ruled. She’d shape you to be the same queen she was, and she’ll drill it into your head herself if she needs to.

Your pride would never allow you to say this to her face, but you supposed that she did a good enough job. The people loved her: she kept them safe and fed, gave them more than enough to start caring beyond their necessities and seek self-actualization, to flourish in the arts. She wasn’t very popular among foreign lands, and you might even go on to say that they feared her. She was often fair when wronged, but very rarely did she ever pardon those wrongs. She has never, in the time you've been alive.

Once, when you were very little and you were still taking lessons with some children of noble descent, you heard them repeat a saying they’d learn from their parents:

“Loving are her eyes, beauty bestowed, but fear the night the Hawk catches you lurking near her nest, lest you desire your entrails be fed to the eyas nights on end.”

They spoke of their Queen with reverence and adoration.

Her way of ruling worked well for many years; you got to live a life of peace and prosperity the entirety of your childhood. Not many other kingdoms can say the same.

On top of your queenly history lessons and politics and mathematics and the sciences, she wanted you to be good at protecting yourself. While she has acquired the most apt Royal Guard, a future queen must still be able to hold her own. She ordered only the best archers and swords to teach you, and you were…decent, at it. The years of practice successfully stuck some things into you: how to hold a sword and a bow and arrow, which body parts to target, how to be light in your feet (this one was specifically useful whenever you wanted to leave the royal palace).

In your defense, your natural sensibilities were drawn to something else entirely. You’d always say reading was a more sensible passage of time. You would spend hours upon hours lounging in one of the library nooks or on a blanket in the palace gardens, surrounded by the pastel of the flowers.

You were in that garden when the assassin took a knife to your throat.

You lived, but it scared your mother terribly. Surprising—since you’d never known her to be a person who had any fears. In your mind, it could only mean two things. One, she loved you to some extent—she might just have a weird way of expressing it. Two, someone was threatening her bloodline and consequently, perhaps more importantly, someone was threatening her throne.

And she will not let that happen in her lifetime.

───

It has been two weeks since your throat was sliced open. Two weeks since the doctor instructed you to minimize strenuous activity and if you could, stay in bed as to not open the stitches.

‘You don’t know how lucky you are,’ the doctor has told you every day after your daily checkup. You know this, of course. Had the knife gone any deeper and had your court ladies not been around the corner, you’d be dead. It was, however, a hilarious thought that someone would bring a blunt knife to an assassination.

Your mother didn’t think it was funny. But in your delicate state, the anger in her eyes had never been funnier, and it pained your throat whenever you’d attempt to laugh.

“Will you stop it? The doctor spent hours on those. What will we do if they scar?” You rolled your eyes in response and she scoffed. “Glad to see you’re as genteel as ever, it’d be a shame if you had lost that lively nature of yours.” It sounded sarcastic, but she meant it. She did not want you to be passive. In her mind, that would only led to you becoming spineless and spineless Queen can't rule. You ignored her words, instead gesturing for one of the maids to bring you a cup of water.

“I’ve arranged for the competition to take place tomorrow, do you think you’ll be up for it?”

You furrowed your brows, “Competition?” Your voice came out roughly. The stitches began to itch.

Your mother groaned, “Please refrain from speaking, but yes, competition, have you not been listening to me? The best soldiers and eligible men have been traveling from across the nation for some time now. The men will fight and we shall see who is best equipped to protect the Crown Princess.”

“Must—” you coughed, “must we make them fight? Can’t we just pick one?”

“Just pick one?” She looked into your eyes incredulously, “You must have hit your head and injured your intelligences if you think I’d let just any one person be in charge of you. You must have the best.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Very well.” She nodded once, “The doctor has cleared you to attend so rest, you will be awakened bright and early tomorrow!”

She walked out of the room and left you to your devices. You sighed. You allowed your court ladies to help you out of your daily garments, clean your wound, place the ointment and replace the bandage.

You repeated the process in the morning, placing a necklace over the bandage, ensuring it is not too tight but stays in place. You prepared for the days’ events, and after a couple of restrained breaths, you walked out of the room with your court ladies in toe.

───

Bada Lee spent her childhood just outside the place. Her family had raised generations of soldiers, many of which served in the Royal Guard. That was, until her father was dismissed and demoted to being a simple guard in the rural countryside. He had dedicated his entire life to the Queen and it was a shock to everyone when he’d been told of his dismissal. Up to his last breath, he’d grow angry whenever she’d asked him why. Why did we leave? How could a loving Queen throw us away as if we were nothing? She’d been upheaved from the City, and littered some place where she’d have to fight if she wanted anything to come from her life. Well, fight harder than she’d have to in the City.

Still, she knew that it didn’t matter where she was. Whether in the Capital City or the countryside, external expectations would have her be a wife and a mother soon after. She watched her mother suffer under these conditions, watched her neighbors, and the change in her friends’ nature as they came of age and were married off. They were all unhappy.

She’d be damned if she was destined to a miserable marriage. But above all, she’d be damned if she dies a nobody. Just another woman, forgotten by history.

Nope. That’s not her.

Growing up, she loved watching her father and brother train. She’d try to join, but her father would quickly push her away. She would try day after day, but it couldn’t be helped. So she turned to making her own sword out of a fallen tree branch. She’d copy their movements, the placement of their feet and how the air would rest in their lungs and rush out with the lunge of the sword—well, the lunge of the stick for her. Her brother agreed to train with her, but in his teenage years, he grew resentful of her talent. He decided to begin training a different skill, archery, but soon enough, he realized that this too came naturally for her. Over the years he turned to different combat skills, only for Bada to overpower him again and again. One day, he stopped helping her at all.

It was a cold winter when the sickness spread across the countryside. It was the sickness that took her father and it was the sickness that took her brother. The town had to develop a new burial site due to the amount of people that died at the beginning of the season. Death didn't relent there; people continued dying and dying until that site was full with bodies.

By the time her family succumbed to their sickness, there was nowhere to put them. For days on end, her only company was their cold bodies. She had placed them in a separate room, putting as much distance as she could. As the winter grew colder and she stared at the makeshift tomb’s door, she realized she depended entirely on them. As it stood, she was nothing, less than nothing, by herself. It was a matter of time before someone hunted her down, a young woman without any male relatives left and tried to turn her into a sellable thing.

She’d be damned.

In a feat of fear and anger, she grabbed her brother’s clothes and changed into them and styled her hair as he would. She looked into the small mirror, surprised to see that her crazy plan might just work.

But she needed to make people think it was her that died.

The day the town hall proposed a mass burial, she changed her brother’s clothes into her own and loosened his hair from the top knot it was in. She shaved his beard, feeling disgusted at the act and with herself for feeling the need to do this. She pushed through: this was about her survival. She reported the bodies, and snuck into the site later that night. Sure, she would be shamelessly taking her brother’s identity from this day forward, but that did not mean she would bury her brother in anything other than his clothes. She did not want that karma. Plus she could afford to lose one of the five hanboks.

The next day, she watched anxiously as they buried the mass of bodies.

She should’ve felt terrible about her relief once they were under the soil, and she did, she would miss them. At some point during the week she lived with their corpses, she forgave them for any bad they did to her. She could only think of the good things now, her father’s jjigae and her brother’s light banter.

She did feel bad, but at the same time, a weight had been lifted. She wouldn’t need to get married now, she could pursue something, she could walk around at night without a chaperone and she could talk to people without worrying about being seen as vulgar.

Yes, under her disguise, she was finally free.

───

Lee Bada had been Lee Hae for a year by the time the Queen requested all eligible soldiers to report to the Capital City. Her commanding officer recommended her to go as one of the top soldiers under his command. She has managed to climb her way through the ranks, demonstrating her strength wherever she went.

Nobody knew the Mother of the Nation had called them to the palace, but if only the strongest were allowed to go, then Bada was going to make sure she was at top.

It was strange being back in the Capital City and even weirder to see the inside of the palace when all she’d known before was its gates.

Bada stood in line with the rest of the soldiers in the palace’s courtyard, towering over some of them. Her back maintained straight, her head held high, as the Crown Princess approached the Queen. She bowed to the queen and sat down next to her. Bada controlled her facial expressions, but her feelings couldn’t be helped. The Crown Princess had made the soldiers wait under the sun, and now she had the audacity to look bored. Despite being so far away, she could see the way you whispered into one of your court ladies’ ears and how they covered their mouth. The laughter showed in their eyes though. In contrast, your attempt to cover your giggle was lazy, your hand falling from the front of your mouth before you could control your expression once more. Bada wanted to scoff. Had you no decency? Before Bada’s bitterness could grow further, the Queen began speaking.

“Welcome, loyal soldiers and citizens. I have invited you here today to compete for the highest honor of joining the Royal Guard and protecting your Crown Princess.” Her open palm gestured to her side, where the Princess sat gracefully. “It is a title that comes with great responsibility, and requires skill, power and loyalty. It would please me for each of you to partake and serve your country in the process. If you wish to stay, please take a step forward.”

Each of the four hundred soldiers took a step, the sound booming through the courtyard. Bada did not look to see if any citizens had stepped forward.

“I am so glad! The competition consists of a six stages with different ‘games.’ You must accumulate enough points in each stage to successfully move up to the next one. Today, we shall begin the first stage. You must ride out into the woods and bring back a rabbit that has been trapped and hidden. There are only two hundred rabbits.” the Queen paused and with a clap of her hands, “Go!”

───

“I don’t get the point of this game,” You stated without looking up from your book. “They’ve been out there for hours and no one is back yet.”

“Patience, daughter,” the Queen responded, “There must be a basis to being a good protector, is there not? Wouldn’t you say that enduring long distance and persevering in the woods is a good baseline?”

“You are so creative, Mother,” you sighed into your book, “You can come up with such fantastical scenarios.”

“So you would rather have someone who doesn’t know how to endure long distances riding and persevere in the woods?”

You didn’t respond.

The first to arrive was a seasoned soldier. He had been part of the Royal Guard for more than a decade, and was known for his hunting skills. The second person caught your mother’s attention. One tall and broad-shouldered man rushed through the Palace gates with 4 rabbits hanging from his horse with a robe. He dismounted, grabbing the robe, throwing it on the ground and bowing before the Queen.

“Seowol from the Southern coast, your Royal Highness.”

“Seowol?” Your mother questioned, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do believe you were only supposed to take one rabbit.”

“I wanted to secure a strong position, your Highness.” He remained in a bowed position, looking down, his arms stiff along his body.

“Certainly! Please follow eunuch Jinho to the bathroom and a change of clothes. You’ll be called when everyone has arrived.” He looked up and nodded, and quickly did as instructed.

The court ladies swooned over the man once he’d walked away, but you hardly moved.

“Did you see the way he looked at you? Oh!” the young lady fanned her hand. You chuckled, amused by the younger girl’s reaction.

“The way he got off his horse and showed the rabbits, he was so cool!”

“And handsome! Don’t forget handsome!”

You rolled your eyes at that one, “He wasn’t even that handsome.”

“So you do think he was handsome!” They all laughed, having caught something in your words.

“Listen to me, I said he was not all that handsome.” You repeated, “I’ve seen better.”

They gushed, trying to get you to elaborate, but your mother was beginning to look at you sideways. You thought it was better to stop then. With the light hearted fun you were having with your ladies, you forgot all about the dull ache of your throat. The reason you were having this ridiculous competition in the first place. The truth was there was something about Seowol that disgusted you. You couldn’t quite place it, it could be the abruptness in his movements and the way he threw the rabbits on the ground, or perhaps the coldness behind his eyes. A mindless cruelty to innocent beings.

Returner after returner, it was the same and they started blending into each other. They’d rush through the gates, and present the robed rabbit in front of the Queen before they bowed. They announced their name loudly, as if shouting would make the Queen remember them better. The cook would take the rabbit and disappear to the kitchens.

That was, until number 73th entered the yard. The sun was beginning to set, leaving the sky in a canvas of lovely purples and pinks. You didn’t notice him at first, but soon your ladies began to whisper. This particular soldier entered calmly, and only one hand on the horse’s bridle. A small ball of white highlighted by the black of his uniform. As he got closer, you saw that the white speck of fluff was the rabbit. He cradled it on his left arm, making sure it didn’t jump or fall. Once he’d reach the stage, he dismounted carefully. You noticed his height, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out how his shoulders managed to look both broad and slender at the same time. He came closer, bowing deeply before your mother and to your surprise, he began to approach you.

He was quickly stopped by your mother’s guards blocking his path.

“Please, your Royal Highness, let him approach,” You surprised yourself. For the past two weeks, you were scared you were growing paranoid of strangers and people in general. The fear was earned to some extent, you had just been attacked, but you were even more afraid that you’d grow to be scared of everyone, everything, and never come out of your bedroom ever again. Though, now, as you look over at your mother to let the stranger approach you, it seemed this fear wasn’t going to be an issue after all. You were going to be okay. In a lower voice this time, “Please, Mother.”

She rolled her eyes discreetly, waving her hand. “Let him through.”

The guards retracted. The man moved closer to you, and he bowed. You noticed the smoothness of his jaw, the curve of his lips and the pretty way his lashes decorated his pretty brown eyes. He was pretty. So much so you held your breath when his eyes finally met yours.

“My Princess.” He smiled, “For you.”

Oh.

Someone behind you gasped, and you were glad for the noise because that way he might not be able to hear the beating of your heart.

“May I?”

You nodded, despite not knowing what you had agreed to. The man walked even closer to you, and you unconsciously leaned forward. He placed the bunny in your hands, and you searched for his lingering fingers through the white fluff. He retrieved far too soon. You wanted to touch him for some reason. You wanted him to get close again and you wanted him to call you, once again, his prin—

“And what might your name be?” Your mother was not amused.

“Soldier Lee Hae, your Royal Highness.” He addressed his queen but his eyes never left yours.

“Lee, huh? You do know that was your dinner, correct? You won’t have dinner?” Your head snapped to your mother. She could not possibly!

“As long as my Princess is content, my stomach shall never be empty.”

Your head snapped back at him, a slightly ajar mouth. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, but a sharp pain in your neck scared any adoring feelings away. The stitches tugged on your skin, and you brought your hand to your neck.

“Very well, no dinner. You may sit down, Soldier Lee Hae.”

───

Well, that was fucking stupid. Bada groaned, grabbing her stomach. She just had to give that damned rabbit to the Crown Princess, didn’t she? Even now, hours after dinner and well into their resting time, Bada could not decipher why she chose to spare the rabbit.

You had just looked so beautiful, and before she knew it, she was right in front of you. And as she remembers the look on your face when she gave you the bunny, your parted lips and your widening eyes as you looked up at her, Bada realized she only regretted her choice slightly.

There was no denying your beauty. Everyone knew that while you might be the Crown, you were also the prettiest bird in the eyes of the people.

But Bada couldn’t get distracted. She came here with a purpose. She was going to join the Royal Guard and bring back honor to her family. You might have been eye candy, but it didn’t change the fact that you represented what Bada lost, what she never realistically had a chance at.

It killed her. It killed her that they had a woman King and yet every other woman was still viewed as inferior. Did the only women that mattered lived in the palace? You got to be trained, you got to study the books—why couldn’t they? Why was it that she will need to pretend to be a boy for the rest of her life to feel free?

Could it be helped? Would you be different from your mother?

Her mind turned to her selfish thoughts. Perhaps she could use today’s events to her advantage. She could grow closer to you, on purpose this time, and perhaps that’d help her on the long run. She’d earn her position, of course; that was nonnegotiable.

The hunger grew furiously as she got lost in her thoughts. She couldn’t take it any longer. She got up, quickly wrapping the tight cloth over her chest. She hid a small knife on the inside of her left wrist, a security measure, though she was unlikely to need it. She grabbed something to cover herself with and left the small room she’d been provided with.

She was lucky to finish stage 1 where she did. When the last of the 197 soldiers that would pass on to the next stage arrived, they were well into dinner. The Queen had stated that for the remaining stages of the competition, only the top half scorers would receive a sole bedroom. Everyone else will sleep in the Great Hall. She reasoned it was to keep up the morale and ramp up ambition. It certainly did motivate Bada though. She did not wish to sleep uncomfortably among the stinky men. It was so weird, Bada knew they showered and mere hours later, a musk would develop around them.

She walked towards the kitchens as quietly as she could. Once there, she rummaged through the shelves, searching for something that was not a raw vegetable.

“Please, please, please…” She murmured to herself, and in her desperation, she did not hear the footsteps coming from the side entrance.

“Who is there?” A voice resounded. Bada froze, quickly kneeling down and hidden under the shelf. Fuck! “As Crown Princess, I command you to reveal yourself!”

The Princess? What was she doing up this late?

Bada had hoped that it was a younger staff member also searching for food (someone she could try her charm on), a simple guard (someone she could try to relate to and proclaim guard-to-guard solidarity), hell, she’d even hoped for a thief (someone who was even guiltier than she was). But the Princess? The Princess was someone she could not face. Perhaps for more than one reason.

As discreetly as she could, she crawled towards the end of the shelf. Across from here, there was a long table she could hide under and right across the table was the entrance.

She could make it.

If only she hadn’t run directly into the Princess’ feet.

She landed on her knees, and dread filled her head. She hung it in shame, some hair coming loose and framing her face. So this is how she would die, huh? With nothing to her name, a mere soldier title that she didn’t even earn herself. She would die without a legacy, without—

“Is that you, Lee Hae?” Your voice sounded extra sweet under the moonlight. “How come you’re out here at this time?”

She wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole. But there was no getting out of this.

“Princess Royal, please forgive my shamelessness.” She did not look up, still on her knees. “In my hunger, I forgot my place. I beg for your forgiveness.”

There was a long silence after Bada finished talking. Should she have said more? She was already on her knees, what else could she do to humiliate herself in front of the Princess?

“You’re telling me my contentment was not enough for you?”

Bada lifted her head quickly, only to realize too late you were mere inches away. You were so close she could count each beauty mark, each freckle on your face. She’d kiss them if you’d let her. She shook her head. Stupid Bada, concentrate on not dying!

“That isn’t it at all, my Princess.” She shook her head violently, to which you chuckled in response, lifting your hand to cover your mouth.

“So you’re a liar, then.”

“No, no! I am not, my Princess,” Bada opened her palms, “I will admit that as earnestly as my heart believes a smile from you is all I ever need to survive in this world, my earthly body persists in imprisoning me with cravings. I sincerely did not mean to succumb to my hunger.”

You watched the young soldier as they hung their head once more. You thought Lee was…funny. Funny in a very lovely and forward way that you couldn’t help but want more of. You brought a hand closer to her face, fingers lifting her chin.

Bada allowed the princess to lift her face, flushing at the contact. She could feel the heat rushing to her face, and it embarrassed her that you could have this effect on her. How you made her lose composure.

“Look at me,” you stated. Your head followed the brown eyes as they moved, trying to get them to look at you. “Soldier Lee, look at me.” You said it firmly this time around. Finally, the person in question did as asked. Big eyes looked up at you, begging for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“You know, Soldier Lee, you are the prettiest man I’ve ever met.”

Oh.

Widened eyes and dropped jaw, “I—”

‘I am not a man,’ she wanted to say. She almost did, and the fact that she nearly gave herself away scared her. She had never come this close to telling someone the truth. Not on impulse nor consciously. To the Princess no less! She was a mess. She’d better get a hold of herself if she intends on making it through.

Bada had proven that she was good with words, and here you were, leaving her stunned. You enjoyed it, maybe a bit too much. Abruptly, you stood up, leaving the soldier down on her knees. You offered a hand, and it was like a spell being broken. She took it. She gathered herself and she was back into the charming and highly trained voice. Your curiosity for the soldier grew as you watched; there was just something that screamed constraint in the way Lee spoke, but for now, you chucked it up to the respectability rules of the Queendom.

“I am sorry for interrupting your night, your Highness. I will take my leave.” Bada turned, but was quickly stopped when you grabbed her wrist.

It surprised both of you. As a noble princess, you had been taught from a young age that nobody but appointed servants get to come in contact with your skin. Yet here you were—two for two.

“Well, actually,” you began, “I’m here because I did not want you to go to sleep hungry.” You let go of Bada’s wrist, and she already missed the warmth of your skin on hers. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her outside of training.

You signaled for her to follow you. She did, and you guided her to a small table on a corner. A small, white towel covered something and when you lifted it, Bada’s eyes widened. A golden serving tray filled with dishes.

“I ordered something be cooked for you,” you said, hands fidgeting, “I’m afraid it’s probably cold by now. I would’ve tried to get you sooner but my Mother kept me by her side much longer than I expected.”

“I—Thank you, your Royal Highness.” Bada bowed, stomach rumbling and mouth watering. “Thank you.”

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” You said quickly, “You were kind to me, and I couldn’t let my mother punish you for it.” You moved to pick up the tray, glaring at Bada when she tried to hold it for you instead. “I can do it! Plus, I know a spot.”

You walked gracefully, quickly, without spilling a single thing on the tray. Bada was amazed. The both of you stuck to the sides of buildings, remaining in the shadows. Bada anxiously looked around; what would people think if they saw her with the Princess? What rumors will they spread, and how much will they cost her? Her life?

“Through there.” The door was covered with greenery, and Bada could not see the door.

She moved closer to you, whispering into your ear, “where?”

She genuinely couldn’t see it.

You shivered. You could faintly feel her chest against your back, and the warmth it radiated.

You shook your head.

“Here, hold this.” You passed the tray to Bada, making quick work of the hidden door. You opened it and walked through. You moved the vines for Bada, she bent down and met you on the other side.

“Wow…” She gasped. It was a beautiful space, filled with colorful flowers and a pond, four trees on each corner. There was a small house, and Bada doubted it was more than just a bedroom and a bathroom.

“It is the old gardener’s place, but he died and it became abandoned.” You said, placing the tray on the wooden ledge in front of the small house. “The new gardener had a family, so he understandably needed a bigger space.”

You giggled nervously, and Bada found herself loving the sound. She got so lost in your voice and the pretty flowers that she nearly forgot how hungry she was. Nearly.

Bada sat down next to you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know!” She said excitedly, your eyes sparkling with joy, “Mother thought of destroying it and building something else but I just loved it so much, I wouldn’t let her. I begged her to let me have it for days, she agreed eventually and now it’s my little place! Very few people know about it; my Mother, the new gardener, my lady-in-waiting, you…”

You finished shyly, smiling at Bada before quickly looking away. Would it be too forward of her to grab your face and make you look at her?

Yes, she decided, yes, it would be.

Her stomach growled.

“Oh,” You gasped, “Please eat! I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Please, eat with me.”

“No, no, I ate quite well earlier,” you said, “and you didn’t!”

“I don’t want to eat by myself,” Bada said, “Princess, eat with me, please.”

“I’m telling you I won’t,” refusing her once more, “I'll force feed you this meal myself if you don’t start eating soon.”

“Is that a proposition?” Bada smirked. Your cheeks grew warm against your will.

“I only mean… I want you to eat, you have gone hungry because of me. I don’t want you to be hungry any longer.”

“Would you feed me then?” Bada’s eyes looked down at yours, “If I asked you to?”

You cleared your throat, eyes meeting. “Forgive me, soldier, if I’ve come across in a certain light. But I will never feed a man with two capable hands of his own.”

Bada saw the intensity in your eyes, and how they refused to look away from her hers. She leaned closed, eyes growing dangerous the longer she stayed fixated on you.

“You say ‘a man with two capable hands’ but what if I wasn’t a man? How can you be sure that I am?” Bada brought a hand closer to you, “How do you know these work?” She had gone crazy. In your gaze, she had forgotten herself.

Still, in the back of her mind: if she wasn’t in disguise now, would you feed her then?

You finally broke eye contact, looking down at Bada’s hand. It surprised you how much you wanted to hold it, it surprised you even more when your body started reacting to it. A simple hand with long fingers. A calloused hand from days spent training, yet unlike the hands of the men you’ve encountered. Their hands didn’t bring this strange feeling to your stomach. You mind showed you images of these very hands moving along your body; from the nape of your neck, down your side and in between your—

You scoffed, and then chuckled, “Please don’t be ridiculous, soldier Lee. Now, eat, the food is getting colder by the second.”

Bada covered her feelings with a laugh. She was relieved you ignored her impulsive questions, and at the same time, your response left a bitter taste in her mouth. You were just being nice this entire time? Was there really nothing else in your lingering touches and loving eyes? They were childish questions, but it stung nonetheless. She sighed internally; she couldn’t possibly be getting this close now. It was normal to a certain extent, she had the tendency to develop crushes all the time. Sure, developing one in the Princess would complicate the 'get close to you and advance her career' plot, but she was already here.

All her crushes have faded with time, and this one will too.

Bada finally began eating and she was grateful to you once again. She said so, with cheeks full of food and complete disregard for rules. Rules, you had both broken some many of them already, why start caring about them now?

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee x fem reader #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #x fem!reader #wlw

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mothwingwritings · 7 months

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C and F for my boy Pickle

Eyyy sorry for the delay! (Yes I am still working on these!!!) Here is some Pickle goodness for you my dear.~<3

WARNINGS: Sex and violence and one love sick feral man.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Pickle would honestly treat you as nicely as he is able too. His living environment has its limitations, but he does everything he can to make it comfortable and inviting for you, adamant about making it a home that is fitting of his mate.

Once you are safely stashed away in his secret abode he sets to work constructing you a nest of things so that you may find pinnacle contentment in your new home. He’s gathered an amalgamation of the softest blankets, clothes, linen, etc. that has been given to him or that he has scavenged, so that you may rest in peace and luxury while in his presence. He also brings you the best cuts of meat after his hunts, though he caught on quickly that you were apt to turn your nose at his bloody, raw offering (he couldn’t quite understand why, he was sure you would love it if you just gave it a chance). Once he picks up on your distaste, he instead begins to hoard ingredients and snacks he steals picks up out in the world, supplying you all manner of foodstuff till he pins down the ones you like.

While Pickle prefers you in your natural state, he understands your body needs protection from the elements. He doesn’t quite get modern fashion, but you seem sad wearing the same thing over and over again. While he’s out he procures a hodge-podge of varying clothing, presenting it to you by dumping it at your feet, a huge dopey grin on his face. He loves seeing you in the clothing he gifts you, you look so beautiful in each and every piece that he can’t help but stare, holding back the urge to rip it right back off and have his way with you.

Pickle won’t mock you and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you in anyway. Any harm he causes you is either completely unintentional or for your own good. He loses control of himself sometimes, forgetting his own strength. You are just so small and he loves you so much, it’s hard to hold himself back. He hates using his strength against you to prove a point, but if you remain insistent on trying to escape him he will do what he must to protect you. You are HIS mate and HE’S the only one who can take care of you. All that’s waiting for you in this strange new world is danger, so if you won’t stay by his side willingly, he will force you there.

All that said, while you may be relatively safe from Pickle’s more violent tendencies, anyone else most certainly is NOT. If another person approaches you, threatens you, or tries to take you away from him they will be obliterated, decimated, ripped to shreds, torn apart until nothing is left. He’ll bask in the gruesome slaughter, their end another validation that he is the best one for you, the one who loves and can protect you above all others. Doesn’t matter if that person is a stranger or your own mother-he is all you need, anyone else butting in is an unnecessary threat.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it incredibly charming if you tried to fight him. Pickle doesn’t see it as an act of aggression at all, but views it as you trying to mimic him as a sign of reverence. You think he is so impressive and strong that you strive to be like him, going so far as to challenge him to a fight. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but break out into a huge toothy grin when he sees you assume a fighting stance.

And it excites him- seeing you tense up, clenching your fists and bending your knees, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice. Seconds before the fray, you stare him down with such intensity, sizing him up and calculating what moves you should make against him, gears turning in your head as you focus wholly on him. The fixation on him sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He is the only one you are thinking of in that moment, and in turn you are all that is occupying his thoughts.

Your strikes never hurt him and he can tell how much that frustrates you. He’ll play along sometimes to make you happy, yowling like a mother lioness that is being batted by her cub. He’ll cringe at your punch, shy away from your kick. If he’s convincing enough, you sometimes award him with a small smile, a brief look of accomplishment. It warms his heart, knowing you are having as good of a time as he is.

He also relishes the closeness the two of you share when you initiate these little fights. Usually you try and hide away from him, distancing yourself as much as possible whenever he is in the vicinity. At first he thought it was another game you were trying to play with him, something coy, cute, and seductive to grab his attention. But when the chase became a regular thing he was disappointed, why did you put up such a fuss each time your mate tried to approach you? You didn’t even give him a prize when he finally caught you, just flailing and screaming and spitting. It hurt his feelings- this was supposed to be fun.

But the little brawls you had were fun, and they gave him a chance to have you near him without any to-do. He could feel your skin on his, smell your sweat as your body writhed and wriggled against his. Feeling your small hands grab at his hulking form, listening to your strained moans and heavy breathing as you threw your all into attacking him… Witnessing you in such a state, holding you close as your body rubbed his in just the right way, it doesn’t take long for him to completely lose control.

Before you can recognize what is going on, your body is sheathing his cock, previous grunts of exertion quickly turning into wails of pleasure.

He doesn’t understand why you cry so much afterwards, though. Were you not having as much fun as he was? You initiated the fight, why are you so upset at the outcome? It was a good tussle, and judging by the noises you were making, he was able to make you feel good. Even if you struggled a bit when he was trying to enter you, you always end up yielding to him. The fit is tight, and there have been several times he was afraid he would outright break you when he pushed deeper, pressing into your core. But the pleasure that courses through him as he bottoms out is indescribable. He loses himself in the feel of you surrounding him, completely consumed by the euphoria your body has supplied him.

You are his perfect mate, his brave little warrior, and his love for you is endless. So don’t cry, OK? Maybe next time he’ll let you really ‘win.’ :)

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yxngbxkkie · 8 months

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Hello! Love your writing! I was reading through the prompts and I think #4 and #7 would be awesome for Chan with y/n.

If you’re still doing drunk confessions. I think 4 and 13 for Channie would be so apt. He would be taking care of reader when they’ve had too much and they just word vom (as well as real vom) their feelings.

Hi!! I don’t know if you are still doing the drunk prompts, but if you are I think #4 "I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back” would be great with Chan. I think it would be really cute to have him saying those words to someone because that seems so him, but whatever works! I just love reading your stuff! 💕

number 4 with channie was requested a lot so i combined all of the prompts together. i do hope you like it!! thank you again for requesting 💓

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

4. "I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."

7. "Don't tell my sober me that I told you I love you. It was a secret."

13. "Say that again after two coffees at least, and I will be yours."

"Have you seen Channie?" You drunkenly ask your friend, glancing around the packed bar. She stands on her toes and begins to look for him as well, resting her hand on your forearm.

"I think he's by the bar, babe. You okay?" She checks in with you, and you meet her gaze.

You nod your head yes before placing a kiss on her cheek. "I'm good! I'm gonna go find him," you giggle and pat her shoulder.

She gives you a smile as you walk closer towards the bar. You swivel your head around at the sound of Chan's laugh, attempting to pinpoint where it came from.

The man in question sits with Changbin at the end of the bar. A smile comes to your lips as you quickly rush to them. You rest your hands on Chan's shoulders as soon as you reach them.

"Channie! There you are," you grin and slide your hands across his chest. Chan giggles at your affection, his fingers gliding along your arm.

"Were you looking for me?" He questions you with a laugh, turning his head to the side.

You nod your head, letting it rest on his shoulder. "Wanna take a couple of shots?" You ask him with a slight smirk.

"You know I don't drink, sweetheart," Chan sighs, tapping your arm gently.

A pout comes to your lips as you lift your head. "Just one?" You try to convince, hanging on him like he's a tree.

Chan shakes his head and releases a quick sigh. "You know I won't," he sings, moving to wrap his arm around your waist.

"Fine, fine," you whisper.

Changbin leans towards you, tapping your arm. "I'll take a shot with you," he says with a smile, and your eyes light up.

"Yeah!?" You gasp, tripping over your feet as you rush towards the younger member.

Channie saves you from falling over, his grip on you tightening. "Maybe we should stop for the night," he tries to stop you, glancing towards his member.

"No! Just one more?!" You beg, resting an arm on Changbin.

"One more," Chan points before wagging his finger. "And then we go home, okay?"

You nod excitingly and turn to face Changbin. The two of you high-five one another before he orders two shots of tequila. The bartender sets two shots in front of you, and you quickly grab one.

After Changbin pays for it, he raises his shot glass towards you. "Cheers!" He shouts, startling you slightly before downing the liquor.

You slam the shot glass onto the bartop, releasing a low groan. "God, I hate tequila," you cry out with a laugh.

Chan chuckles and rests his hands on your shoulders. "Come on. Say goodbye," he reminds you softly.

You say goodbye to Changbin, and Chan leads you out of the bar. You fish your phone out from your pocket, texting your friend that you left safely.

Chan keeps you steady until you reach the vehicle. He opens the door for you, keeping his hand nearby in case you need help. He shuts the door after you buckle yourself in before rushing towards the other side.

He gives you a small smile after buckling his seatbelt. The vehicle begins to move, and you rest your head against the seat. Chan texts the group chat he has with the members, informing him that he's left with you.

A blush dusts his cheeks as they start making comments about the two of you being alone together. He rolls his eyes before putting his phone away, turning his head to look at you.

"Are you feeling alright?" Chan asks you, his hand gently touching your cheek.

"I'm a little nauseous," you say quietly, trying not to think about vomiting.

Chan pouts and checks the navigation. "We'll be home in ten minutes," he informs you, moving some of your hair out of your face. "Take deep breaths for me, okay?"

You nod your head, inhaling deeply through your nose. You exhale from your lips, keeping your eyes shut. You continue to take deep breaths for the remainder of the drive.

Chan helps you out of the back seat once the vehicle is parked. Another groan leaves your lips as soon as you stand up straight. You lean your head on Chan's shoulder while the two of you walk into the building.

"Almost there, sweetheart," he whispers to you, his free hand gently rubbing your back.

The urge to throw up doesn't hit you until you're standing outside his apartment door. You place a hand over your mouth and smack Chan's arm.

"Hurry, please," you sob.

Chan's movements speed up at the sound of your voice. He quickly unlocks the front door, allowing you to run inside. You rush into the bathroom, falling to your knees before you violently throw up.

Tears stream down your cheeks, and heavy pants leave your lips. Chan combs his fingers through your hair, holding it out of your face. You throw up again, and Chan immediately rubs your back.

"I'm sorry," you groan, resting your forehead against your hand.

He giggles from behind you and gently scratches your back. "It's okay, baby. You're okay," Chan reassures you.

You feel well enough to rest your back against the wall. Chan moves to kneel in front of you, setting one of his hands on your knee. "I love you," you whisper, touching his fingers gently.

His heart jumps in his chest at your confession. Chan flips his hand over and laces his fingers with yours. "You know," he starts, the smile on his lips widening, "I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."

A laugh comes from your lips, your eyes staying glued on your intertwined fingers. "I shouldn't have told you that," you mumble, tapping his hand with your thumb. "Don't tell sober me that I told you I love you. It was a secret."

Chan giggles and nods his head. "I won't say a word," he zips his lips.

The sun abruptly wakes you from your slumber. A groan leaves your lips while raising a hand to block the sun. You shift your body to face the opposite direction when Chan walks into the room.

"Morning," he whispers to you with a smile.

You smile fondly at him. "Morning, Channie."

He places a cup of coffee on the nightstand before crouching down. "How are you feeling?" Chan asks with a concerned look in his eyes.

"I've got a huge headache, but other than that, I'm okay," you tell him, hugging the pillow.

"That's good, baby," he grins and rubs your forearm. Your heart pounds against your chest as the two of you stare at one another. Chan brings his hand to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "I love you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his words. "Say that again after two coffees at least, and I will be yours," you mumble, opening your eyes again.

Chan giggles but nods his head in agreement. He stands back up and hands you the coffee mug. "Come out when you're ready," he tells you before kissing your forehead.

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

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endcant · 2 months

Text

save a bastion for queer culture in a famously hateful city

i’ll try to write a shorter and sweeter post about this later, but for now i will just beg at length.

there is a town near me called Murfreesboro where at various points they have banned or attempted to ban public homosexuality, drag, and pride flags. for a time their county’s youth incarceration rate was 48% (contrasted with the rest of the state at 5%) due to corruption in their local courts system. every juvenile case that made it to the wrong judge resulted in the child being sent to jail, because the county commissioner thought it’d be “cool” if the jail was a “profit center” (yes these are his actual words). these are just a few examples but suffice it to say, this is a very difficult place to grow up, especially for LGBT kids.

despite all of this difficulty, the area has a remarkable alternative music scene with a few small venues where queer people and young people who don’t fit in elsewhere can genuinely have fun and feel safe for the night. despite the city’s reputation, queer people in the broader area flock to the town for raves and DIY shows. in this area, music culture is intertwined with queer culture and leftist efforts to a much greater degree than i’m used to as somebody from the middle of california.

i really admire the venues and event organizers that cultivate a safe spaces like this in a place where it is decidedly unsafe for queer people, and where the youth are constantly in danger of having their lives ruined for totally arbitrary reasons.

this is why it breaks my heart that murfreesboro is trying to shut down a venue called The Graveyard Gallery. the graveyard gallery is a place where a ton of events are constantly held for lgbt, furry, and alternative communities. it is one of very few alternative places in the broader nashville area where i have felt really, truly safe and welcome as a person of color.

most recently, The Graveyard Gallery has come under attack for attempting to hold a Trans Day of Visibility punk show, with the apt title “Trans Day of Vengeance”. Conservative media, both local and national, directed the attention of their audiences towards this event, calling it “tone deaf” to have it on easter, and to have it sort-of-kind-of-close-to-but-not-quite-on the anniversary of the shooting in nashville. All of this, of course, ignoring that the date for TDoV was set in 2009, and that this was a small DIY punk show that really bore no threat to anybody. the show had to be canceled because of credible death threats, so it didn’t even happen, but that hasn’t appeased anybody.

in the wake of this, murfreesboro’s fire marshal has suddenly decided that the building is not acceptable for occupancy and it has to close immediately and for the forseeable future. people can claim it’s unrelated, but i’ve known people to have their businesses suddenly declined by fire marshals due to sheer bigotry before, and shitty towns will just use their fire marshal to bankrupt small business owners that they don’t like. i do not speak for the owners of the gallery on this front, but i personally believe that these things are related.

all this is to say, the graveyard gallery needs to raise money for their legal fees over this matter. this venue is very important to a lot of people, and may be even more important now that the city’s music scene is in the crosshairs of massive conservative media companies.

if you can donate please do, and if you can share this, please do that as well.

thank you for taking the time to read my post. i know there’s a lot going on in the world, but music venues are where people here gather, and music venues are often also a place where people organize to make meaningful change and promote causes that i know most of you would approve of. music is at the heart of this community, and the venues are where the music lives.

#mine

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toomuchracket · 8 months

Text

costumes (birthday party!matty x reader smut)

day 30 of promptober, and we're coming full circle on toomuchracket with some smut for these two! this is actually incredibly smutty, but kinda cute too - basically, matty's scientist halloween costume is really bloody doing it for you. enjoy! <3

"text me so i know you're home safe, yeah?"

"of course, babe. thanks for having us," your friend kisses your cheek, before being pulled away by her fiancé towards the waiting taxi. "and don't forget - bridesmaid dress shopping next week!"

"like you'd let me forget!" you shout after her. "bye, darlings!"

you wave until the gate closes behind them, and you're about to shut the front door when you hear matty call from the bottom of the steps down to the living room. "ah! wait a second before you close that door, please, sweetheart."

"why, baby?" your brow furrows, as your boyfriend walks slowly up towards you, the lab coat he's wearing as part of his scientist costume blowing slightly in the breeze from the open door. "d'you need fresh air, or something?"

matty smiles softly, leaning against the concrete wall when he reaches you and the landing. "nah. just wanted to look at you in the moonlight, s'all. you're glowing, babe."

"you- stop it, you're making me blush," you huff out; not in irritation, but rather slightly self-consciously, arms wrapping around your body as if to shield it from your boyfriend's gaze. you know he means it - he's complimented you in a similarly devastating way almost daily for the past eight months, after all - but you can't help but be overwhelmed by it. and by matty in general, actually.

the boyfriend in question giggles, and the love in his eyes is unmistakable even in the dim, pale moonlight. "but it's true! you're ethereal. apt, i guess, given the angel costume. which i still think is lovely, even if it is just white lingerie and a halo. not that i'm saying you shouldn't have worn it - not at all, my god, you look perfect - but i'd have appreciated a warning, sweetheart. thought my knees were going to give way when you walked into the kitchen earlier."

the memory of matty's face when he first saw you tonight crosses your mind, pulling a satisfied hum from your throat as it does. you'd suspected the white silk babydoll dress would have an effect on him, but not to the extent it did; he's pretty good at keeping his cool whenever you rile him up around your friends (inadvertently or not), but he almost dropped his wine glass in time with his jaw when you entered the room, eyes widening under his glasses.

those fucking glasses.

"mine almost did, too, baby," you gently close the door and walk slowly towards your boyfriend, swaying your hips very deliberately so your dress swishes and exposes your bare thighs.

just as you'd intended, matty's eyes lock onto your legs, pretty lips parting in desire - annoyingly, though, he snaps out of your little trance to look up at your face and smirk. "well, those heels are really high, sweetheart."

"i mean, yeah, but that's not the reason my legs almost gave out, baby," you smile as you reach matty, moving to lean your back against the wall beside him, looping your arms around his shoulders and tugging him into you. shifting your weight onto one leg (and winking at your boyfriend when he holds your waist to steady you), you cheekily slide the side of your foot up the side of his shin. "do you like my heels, though?"

matty's breath catches in his throat, which he has to clear before he speaks. "they're… yeah, they're sexy. i like them a lot. but," he regains control of himself again, which would irk you if he wasn't so sexy when he's self-assured. "if it wasn't the shoes that affected you, darling, then what was it? or who, perhaps?"

the smirk drops from your face, while a shit-eating grin appears on matty's. you sigh, twirling his curls around your fingers. "you're really going to make me admit it?"

"you know i like it when you tell me what gets you going, darling," matty's hands slide down your hips and up under your dress, coming (home) to rest on your ass. you shiver, partially from his cool touch, partially from the way his lips ghost up your neck. "come on. open up, gorgeous."

"it - oh, i like that," you whimper as your boyfriend sucks a bruise above your clavicle. "jesus, fuck… ok, fine, it was your glasses that got me."

matty's head snaps up to look at you immediately; you pout at the loss of his lips on your skin. "my glasses?"

"yeah," you look at the ground, feeling the heat of a blush creeping up your cheeks. "i think they're really sexy."

"really? in what way?"

you nervously peek at matty, expecting to see him smirking smugly at you - you're pleasantly surprised to see he looks genuinely curious. "promise you won't laugh?"

your boyfriend nods. "cross my heart."

"alright. well," you begin, smiling shyly at him. "this is kinda porny…"

you don't think you've ever seen matty's eyes light up so quickly in your life. boys, honestly.

"...but you look like a really hot nerd tonight, and i haven't stopped thinking about, like, pretending to sneak you into my bedroom so you can help me with my biology homework. reproduction," you giggle nervously at how daft you sound. "i know it's silly. but it's all i can think about."

matty's hands pause their gentle kneading. he stays silent, looking at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

that smile should make you feel alright about your fantasy, but it's matty. he's never quiet. neither are you, in this moment, panic making you babble. "but like obviously we've never tried roleplay and actually i don't know if i'd even like it i just think in theory it's hot and of course if you're not into it we can just forget i ever said anything and never address it again and-"

"darling," matty firmly cuts off your rambling, which you're actually quite thankful for given that your body's oxygen supply is rapidly depleting with every word. "does this make it seem like i'm not into it?"

his hands slip to the backs of your thighs and lift you up, eliciting a squeak from you as you automatically wrap your legs around your boyfriend's waist. he grinds his hips into you, as slow as dripping honey, and all nerves about his response to your admittance slip out of your mind, under the front door, off into the cold night.

matty's hard. really hard.

it's your face's turn to light up. "you like my daydream, then?"

"wanna make it a reality, sweetheart," matty smiles, kissing you - long and slow, just the way you like it. he blinks quite adorably when he pulls away for air. "right now, if you'll let me."

"please," you breathe against his lips. "been waiting for everyone else to fuck off all night so you could take me to bed."

"oh, sweet girl, you needed me that much?" matty coos, grinding into you again as he does. "let's go and do something about that, then."

with that, you set off, matty carrying you through the house to the bedroom with surprising speed. you don't know why you're surprised, though - you've done this too many times to count since that first night you got together. a happy little hum leaves your lips as you remember that night - the best of your life, it has to be said - and how desperate you were for matty to fuck you. nothing's changed on that front; you don't think it ever will.

he's gotten better at laying you down on the bed, though. instead of the graceless chucking of your first time, matty sets you down gently at the end of the bed and crawls over you, caging your body to the mattress and locking his lips onto yours. it's not a sweet kiss, by any means; his teeth sink deliciously into your lip, just the perfect amount of painful, and his tongue follows, soothing the bite and adding the pleasure. matty kisses like he does everything in life, with total conviction and determination, and you can't get enough. so much so that you can't stop yourself whining when he pulls away.

"oh, you are needy today, darling," matty smirks. "i love it. and i love you."

"i love you," you sit up on your elbows to kiss him again. "make me feel good, please?"

"always," matty kisses your forehead, hands trailing up to your shoulders, dexterous fingers sliding under the straps of your dress. "may i?"

for the second, but likely not the last time tonight: "please."

he obliges, sliding the straps and cups of your lingerie down, gently lifting your hips to slide the silk off your body and throw it carelessly to the floor. half-naked, you rest back on your elbows and just drink in the way matty looks at you with a cocktail of adoration and sheer want in his eyes; an odd mix, really, but you think it's delicious.

and as content as you are to have him look at you like that, you'd be more content reminding him of how delicious you are. careful that your stilettos don't catch on the bedsheets, you pull your knees closer to you and spread your legs. "i think i'm ready to begin my lesson now."

matty smirks. it's devastatingly attractive. "will you be a good girl for me?"

you steal his line. "always."

"that's what i like to hear. gold star for you, darling," he leans forward to kiss you again, but springs back quickly to gawk at you. "wait a fucking minute."

"what?"

that bloody smirk again. "this is all to do with your academic validation thing, isn't it?"

that's the thing about matty - he knows you better than you know yourself. shit. the blush returns full force to your cheeks, burning enough to heat your whole naked body on this chilly october night. "fuck. probably. is that a turn-off?"

"is it fuck," matty scoffs. he cups one of your tits, smiling at the way you jerk when he gently squeezes it. "i fucking love praising you, baby, almost as much as i love getting you off. and i'm about to do both of those things. yeah?"

"yeah," you reply breathily, as his other hand comes up to your other tit. "fuck, that's good."

matty hums happily. "lesson number one, gorgeous," he quickly pushes his glasses back up his nose, and you clench your thighs at the sight. "breasts. a quick lesson, because they're not too involved in the stage of reproduction we're learning about today, but," he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, smiling around the bud as you moan. "they're fun to play with during it. understand?"

your head is spinning, and he hasn't even properly done anything yet; you force it to nod, pre-empting his request for verbal answers and squeaking out a "yes". jesus. telling matty about this fantasy was a great idea.

he seems to think so too, sliding his hand down your body and beaming when he makes contact with your soaked underwear. "oh, sweetheart, i think i'm going to need a closer look at this."

"wait," you sit up quickly as matty prepares to shuffle further down the bed, carefully taking his glasses off and putting them safely on the bedside table. "there we go."

matty's brow furrows. "but i need those?"

you smirk. "not if you're going get up close and personal with me, you don't. feel free to put them back on later, though!"

"fair enough, darling," matty moves to kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards him by the calves. "let me just… uncover the next specimen for analysis, yeah?"

with a giggle, you lift your hips so your boyfriend can slide your panties off; with a wink, he puts them in the breast pocket of his lab coat, and spreads your legs again. there's something really fucking hot about matty being fully clothed while you're naked, save your heels, and you feel the heat shoot straight to your core; it must show visibly, too, because matty groans as he looks at your cunt from millimetres away. "a fucking perfect specimen. and," he presses a kiss to your inner thigh as he looks up at you. "already nicely aroused. very nicely, to be precise."

fuck. this is doing it for you far more than you expected, probably because matty's committing to the bit so much. not that you'd expect anything less from him, but it's good that he's having just as much fun with this as you are.

the praise makes you preen. "all for you, baby."

"good girl."

another gush. matty's face lights up. "beautiful," he smiles at you, that full-face beam you'd do absolutely anything to see, and your heart feels like it might pack in from how much you love him. "and more than ready for our next lesson. are you happy to continue, sweet girl?"

"eagerly so."

"ideal. now, this section isn't strictly intrinsic to the act of reproduction, but i maintain that if you aren't including it you don't deserve to reproduce. or do anything at all, for that matter," matty says matter-of-factly, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent bursting into laughter and killing the mood. "female pleasure. i assume you're familiar with the sensation, darling?"

"extremely."

your boyfriend can't help himself. "too fucking right you are, my girl," he clears his throat and composes himself. "anyway. clitoral stimulation - often overlooked or deeply misunderstood by the male subspecies, a truth you'll unfortunately likely also be familiar with, but extremely pleasurable to the receiver and giver if done correctly. there are multiple methods of stimulation; one of the most common is digital. that is, with the digits, like so."

as his sentence draws to a close, matty's calloused thumb quickly finds your clit and begins circling slowly. as soon as he makes contact with the bundle of nerves, a choked moan escapes your lips, the first of a series of sounds your boyfriend draws out of you as he varies tempo and pressure of his hand movements. an epicurean symphony isn't the only thing matty manages to draw out of your body as he works your clit; after a few minutes and several rough kisses to your inner thighs, you can feel an orgasm building within your body, matty seemingly pulling pure pleasure out of your very bones through your clit.

agonisingly, just as you open your mouth to warn him of your imminent climax, he slows down his circling. "of course, other methods may be preferred dependent on the individual giver. for example, in my own personal opinion, the superior form of clitoral stimulation is… oral."

jesus christ.

you're barely able to inhale a full breath before matty's mouth is on you, and you lose it all anyway by screaming as his lips and tongue suck and lick and flick at your clit. he's relentless, all composure gone, tugging you impossibly closer to his eager mouth as he all but makes out with your just-as-eager cunt. the pleasure builds again inside you, faster this time, and you can feel yourself beginning to teeter on the precipice of orgasm when…

he fucking pulls away again. the bastard.

you whine, and matty kisses your lower stomach in what appears to be apology. "i know, sweetheart, i know," he coos, thumb feather-light on your clit. "you're being such a good girl for me, learning all your lessons so well. one more lesson to go, my darling, and then i'll make you feel good without interruption, yeah?"

"promise?" you croak out.

"i promise, sweet girl," matty nods. "because this is where it starts to get a bit more like the classic act of reproduction - we're introducing penetration. now," he slides two fingers up and down your cunt, covering them in your wetness and pressing them on the sides of your clit, making you jolt. "this can be done as an independent act, but i think it's a lot more gratifying - and fun - to pair it with the oral stimulation from before. start with the penetration," matty slowly pushes his fingers inside you and thrusts them back and forth, both your jaws dropping at the feeling. "my god, that's good - and then add your mouth back into the equation, like so."

he literally announced it was coming, and still the feeling of matty's lips on your clit as he finger-fucks you has you screaming. if you could keep your eyes from rolling back into your head at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now, you'd maybe notice the way matty's concernedly flick up to your face to make sure you're alright - when he confirms your screams are the good kind, his eyes soften, but the black lust within them doesn't disappear. if anything, it gets darker the closer your boyfriend pushes you to the edge, the inaudible analytical murmurs of "you can add another finger for extra stimulation" and "hook them inside to stimulate the g-spot" and god knows what else vibrating through your clit and into your already-fraught nervous system.

it's almost too much for you to handle. your jaw is locked in place, throat muscles tightened to the point where anything but a strangled moan is unable to escape your lips, fingers practically threaded into the sheets themselves as if it's the only thing stopping you from floating away on a cloud of complete ecstasy. ironically, since he's the one making you feel so ecstatic, it's actually matty that's keeping you tethered to this earthly plane - his muscled arms are locked around your convulsing thighs as he sucks and finger-fucks you within an inch of your life. even then, you're still almost dipping in and out of consciousness, of reality, so strong is the buildup of pleasure within you.

you're not sure exactly what it is that finally triggers it, or how long it's taken you to get to that point. but matty does something, and you actually feel something twinge in your cunt as the buildup of pleasure erupts inside you. and that's it.

for the first time in your life, you squirt. you scream matty's name so loudly you almost lose your voice, as you cum so hard that you gush all over your boyfriend's hand and face, a motion you're only vaguely aware of in between split-second long blackouts as your body tries to recover.

matty quickly pulls his fingers from you, a string of excited swear words leaving his mouth as he processes what just happened. he's hovering over you within seconds of your orgasm ending, holding your face in his hands and speaking softly as you come to. "oh, my good girl, my perfect girl, that was absolutely incredible. fuck. how did that feel, darling? how do you feel now? are you alright? talk to me, sweetheart, please."

"felt perfect," you manage to breathe out, smiling dazedly at the gorgeous man above you. "feel so good. thank you."

"i love you," matty kisses you, short and sweet. "that was just… i don't think i'll ever be able to stop thinking about it. i know i say this about something every time i see you naked, but that was the hottest thing i've ever experienced, darling. honestly. i've never been more turned on."

"mmm, love you," you bring a shaky hand up to caress matty's cheek; he turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. "and i want you to feel good now. wanna have sex with you, please."

"are you sure you feel up to it?"

"i am. i do. i want you, baby."

"jesus," matty rests his head on your chest for a second. "alright. but i don't think i have the control to do another lesson roleplay, darling - need to fuck you too much."

you shrug. "i'm a kinesthetic learner anyway. show me what's what!"

matty laughs, quickly yanking off his lab coat and tie. "you're my favourite fucking person on the planet," he kisses your nose while he unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the ground too.

stretching, you sigh happily at the sight of his tattooed torso. "you're just saying that because you made me squirt all over you."

"nah, that's just a bonus," your boyfriend grins, kicking off his trousers. "i mean it, though, you really are my favourite. gonna marry you someday."

a gentle wave of love washes over you. "really?"

"really. but first," matty teases your hole with the head of his dick. "i'm going to fuck you."

he's inside you immediately after the words leave his mouth, sinking into you with a moan you echo in your slightly-broken voice. "shit, babe," matty moans, lips tangy with the taste of your arousal. "you feel too good - there's no way i'm going to last long."

"s'ok, baby," you whimper, legs on your boyfriend's shoulders. "you've made me feel amazing, s'about time you took a turn."

despite his exertion - he really is fucking you determinedly - matty huffs out a laugh. "sweetheart, that doesn't mean we won't be able to get you off again," he smirks, not unkindly, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face. "if it's not too sensitive, can you be my good girl and rub your clit for me, make yourself feel good?"

oh, fuck. you nod, brain and voice taking a second to catch up to your head and neck. "i can do that."

"show me."

eyes locked on matty's, you bring your hand to your clit, and rub the same slow circles your boyfriend did on you earlier. "like this?"

"yeah, just like that, shit," matty's thrusts quicken; you speed up your circling to match, whining and clenching around him as another orgasm quickly approaches. "fuck, baby, are you gonna cum again for me?"

"yeah."

"do it then, sweetheart," matty pants, bringing his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. your free hand tangles itself in his hair, and he moans into your skin as he speeds up yet again. "whenever you're ready… cum."

still sensitive from your earlier earth-shattering climax, and driven to the edge by the combination of your own hand, matty's hips driving into yours, and his fucking voice, another orgasm crashes through you. it's nowhere near as strong as the first, but it's enough to pull your boyfriend to the edge with you. "darling," he manages to croak out, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier the better he feels inside. "where can i cum?"

"on my face, please," you pant, chest heaving with aftershocks. "s'only fair, after i came on yours."

the mere mention of your earlier orgasm is enough to tip matty off the edge. groaning the sexiest groans you've ever heard, matty pulls out of your ruined cunt as you sit up closer to him, jerking himself to a finish all over your elated face. it's a bit depraved, but you fucking love it. you fucking love him.

once he's decorated you sufficiently, matty collapses onto your chest, breathing like he's just run a marathon. he's spent, you both are, but he still finds the energy to sit straight up and look at you with a panicked expression. "baby, you had your wings on that whole time?!"

"hmm?" you lazily turn your head to look at your own shoulder. sure enough, the elastic strap of your angel wings is still there; you tentatively lift it, to find the skin underneath red and tender. but still, you giggle. "oh, shit, that's fun! wait, i must still have my halo on, too, then."

"yeah, you do," matty smiles lovingly at you. "it's quite a sight, actually, baby, your halo askew and my cum all over your face."

"well, the wonky halo is thematic, i s'pose," you laugh. "considering what we just did wasn't very angelic."

matty kisses your jaw. "nah, you were a good girl for me. still an angel in my eyes, albeit a slightly slutty angel."

"your slightly slutty angel."

another kiss. "mine, all mine."

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #promptober75 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy smut #matty x reader

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iloveoldermen-posts · 2 months

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Oh Captain, My Captain

My Little Note -> the 'Captain' John Price one-shot of 141 when the reader's apt gets broken into.

Warnings: slight swearing, unsure about continuation of the one-shot, gender neutral however i have not proof read ୨୧

"I hope you had a nice night," John grubbles over the quiet music. He looks beautifully rugged in the streetlights that are gleaming into his car.

"I did thank you, got me out of the house which I haven't done for a while." I reply sincerely, turning away when John catches me staring. It causes my cheeks to burn up and a chesty chuckle to echo across my brain.

My thoughts are interrupted by the stop of his engine, I look up at my apartment and sigh, "thank you for dragging me out, I hope I see you soon."

"Nu-uh. Don't be silly, I'm going to walk you up. Need to make sure my heart's at rest knowing you're safe." John replies as he walks over to the passenger side and opens the door for me.

"What a gentleman," I gush just after thanking the chiviralous man. He really knows how to fill up a tumy with butterflies.

We don't talk much on the way to my apartment, probably because he was behind me and in his words 'making sure I don't fall.' Like we have literally had the same amount to drink, he is the most dramatic man I know.

Once we reached my floor, he quickly matched my pace to walk by me.

He noticed it before me, the thing that made my stomache drop and heart jump into my throat. My door was agar, the one that I defintely locked. I triple checked for crying out loud!

John looked back at me with a look of worry and sympathy.

"Make sure you stay behind me, I don't want you to get hurt." He says cautiously whilst retrieving the gun out of his holster. Thank god he is here, I don't know what I would do otherwise.

He steps into the apartment slowly, looking around it thoroughly. The state it's left in causes me to audibly gasp, it's ransacked. John looks back at me with a look that asks if I am okay to continue, I give a short, weak nod in response.

He must decide that not enough for him because he swiftly turns us around and rushes us back down stairs and into his truck. He once again opens the door for me and only then, in the comfort of his car I ask a question, "what are we doing?"

"Well, I am going to call one of the boys to finish checking up and take you home with me. At least fot the night, is that okay?" He answers as he pulls out his phone to get 'one of the boys' on the phone.

"Thank you." I nod slightly sitting back, relaxing into the seat of his car. I let my eyes close and the softness of the radio soothes me into a peaceful sleep.

I wake up to the musky scent of Price's cologne surrounding me and I bury my head closer to the source - his sturdy chest that I was resting on as he carried me into his house.

"Goodmorning sleepy," John says as my eyes flutter open. I hum in responce, too enchanted with the fact I'm safely in this hunk of a man's arms.

He carries me into the house, only putting me down once he reached the bed.

"Okay, you can stay in here and I will be on the couch just in the living-room, I'll set out a tee-shirt andsome boxers for you to wear. Just wake me up if you need anything," he says rumaging through his drawers.

"We are both adults, can you please stay..?" I hesitantly ask.

"Of course I can love."

My asks are currently open so get the requests in, and check out my masterlist.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! ALL REBLOGS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

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can i just say that i am OBSESSED with your Alfie series. literally cannot get enough of it. Also!! Was wondering if you could write a fluff piece were reader gets injured and alfie comes to her rescuee? Your writing is so good <3

Hi my love! This ask was so so sweet! I am so glad you like the series, it was so much fun to share it with you guys, I know I tell y'all all the time but it's true! My heart is just so full I can't help it! And of course I can write some fluff! You know I love it hehe. I'm sorry this took a while but I hope you like it! This was actually inspired by my Thanksgiving fiasco this past year lmao. I was in charge of the turkey, mac and cheese, dessert, and potatoes. My little brother was my sous chef and I completely cut my thumb open and my brother almost passed out lmao. Anyway, sending all my love to you! - Mo

Ouch

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader, fluff, Warnings: injury, mentions of blood

There is something so soothing about the kitchen. When the world is so chaotic and cold and uncertain, the kitchen is a haven. Here it’s safe and warm and systematic. The chops and bubbling of the stove are so rhythmic, any harshness of the day just falling off your shoulders in waves. Because here you could understand and set the temperature. Here you could control the outcome and be free. Even if you were trying something new, you could be confident in the knowledge that it would always have a good outcome. It was your favorite part of the day, just cooking with Alfie. You on one side with Alfie on the opposite, working separately to jointly create beautiful.

The only problem that came with cooking, was that it was a little too peaceful. You became too relaxed. And as Alfie was apt to remind you, it wasn’t good to be too relaxed around knives and hot stoves. But it was too easy. The steady hum of the fire and boiling. The pattern you’ve gone through many a time. Your body would take over like a dance from your childhood. Your hands knew what they were doing. Your mind could take a break. And she would wander. Things to be completed in the office tomorrow. That new quilt you were making for your mother. Alfie needing a haircut.

Stir.

I need to make time for that book this weekend

Pour.

Alfie looked so handsome today if it weren’t for that awful stain on his shirt

Stir

Mama and Papa asked us to come for Shabbat this week. I need to tell Alfie.

Chop

We should go to the park this week

Chop

I wonder if we can visit Rabbi Reuben as well

Chop

Alfie’s birthday is also coming up

Chop

I’m so excited for his birthday surprise

Slice

“AH!!! Oh God ah!!”

A long and deep line blossoms on your palm. Far too entrenched in your mind, you were completely missing how the knife was getting closer and closer to your hand. You quickly grab a nearby dish towel, tightly wrapping your hand to catch the trickle dripping to the wood on the floor. Alfie is quick to you though, loudly dropping the cutlery and bowl he was holding. "Shit! Sweet heart you alright? What d'ya do to yourself?"

"Nothing nothing Alfie darling! Just a little scrape I'm sorry!"

Alfie peered at the slowly soaking dishtowel and raised his thick blonde brows at you. Mustache quirking, indicating that once again, you are a terrible liar. Gently but without holding room for argument he unraveled your makeshift bandage as you winced. His mouth furrowed and grumbled, "Ah shit treacle. This is why I always tell you right? You can't be all day dreaming when you're working in here! You insist on not letting me help ya, and then there you go fucking filleting yourself!"

Cool tears start trickling down. It burned with the introduction of the air and the embarrasment of getting a nasty cut. Alfie sighed, wiping your tears with one hand has he cradled your injury in the other. If there was one thing he hated most in the world, it was seeing you cry. "Aw my dove, no tears yeah? Not too bad ain't it? Why I don't even think it'll need a stitch I wager. Just a little alcohol on it and a bandage and you'll be right as rain. C'mon my angel, let's get you better aye? Dinner can wait a few minutes."

Despite having a terrible temper and being completely and utterly impatient... Alfie Solomons was an incredibly gentle and tender nurse. Stern. Always stern. And teasing. And scolding. But gentle above all else. You winced and shed a small tear when Alfie poured the clear and horrendous smelling alcohol on your wound. He tutted and kissed your temple all the while telling you, "Maybe this'll teach you eh? Nothing like a war would to make you more smart about your surroundings."

You thanked your lucky stars you didn't need a stitch at all. Despite the blood it was really a shallow cut. Alfie wrapped your hand skillfully. Pressing a kiss right over the bandage as the final salve. As you whispered a chaste thank you, Alfie pulled you into his chest saying, "Now listen my dove. I don't like to baby you. You are a grown woman and I'm not one to tell woman how to conduct herself or her affairs. But I get worried about you. Always drifting off somewhere in that pretty head. Not watching yourself. Not wanting help. You have got to let me help you my darling. Yeah?"

You nod, kissing him to assure him that you are ok. He chuckles kissing you back. Pushing you to the dining room chair he teases you further, "Now my dear patient, it is imperative that you sit there and keep that hand elevated. Lots of rest of relaxation yeah?"

"Alfie! I have to finish dinner!"

"No I'm sorry treacle but it is the doctor's orders! Can't have you losing a finger next can we?"

You laugh and argue with him, eventually get him to compromise to allowing you to fill a pitcher with water and set the kettle on. No matter what the others of Camden said, they could never say that he wasn't a good man.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #tom hardy

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voxsmistress · 7 days

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Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part Sixteen!

Hello my gorgeous little demons - I am so sorry this took so long to post! These past few weeks have been hell at work! But never fear, I will always get to writing when I can!

Now ... we've had Voxie's turn, it's Valentino's now ;)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen Trigger Warnings: Sexual themes, no under 18's allowed, sexual shenanigans, second time writing smut (be kind), Val being his usual sarcastic self!

A few days had passed since your little tryst with Vox, and you were slightly embarrassed that the next day after you basically had to spend it all in bed to recover after your late evening with the Overlord. Even more embarrassed when Velvette came to check up on you and ended up laughing her head off when she realised what was going on. Valentino was a little nicer – and by a little you meant he didn’t laugh … straight away.

Anyway, after that one day of recovering you were then back to work, focusing on your social media and the upcoming catwalk for Velvette. Your songs were chosen, outfits being made and all that was left was practicing where and when you were going to sing, prance and walk. And by practice you meant again, and again and again until you had to tell Velvette if she kept making you sing over and over your voice would be in tatters for the show. Did you think she was going to give you a break after that? Your voice, yes. Your body, nope. You were made to walk up and down that catwalk, pose in various (idiotic) poses and dance your way back down the catwalk. Safe to say you were absolutely shattered.

Which is why you were currently lying down on the pink chaise lounge in Velvette’s studio; going over paperwork, the last few outfit designs for the other demons and whether any song choices would work better than the ones you had. Velvette was sat beside you, one hand tapping away on her phone and the other one running her fingers through your hair, tugging on the few tangles that were there making sure you were paying attention and not falling asleep which you were apt to do. What could you say, you loved people playing with your hair.

A grumble and a huff from her stopped you from adjusting the one outfit design and instead to look up at her to see a pissed off look on her face. What has happened now?

“You okay there, babe?” Checking on her, you sit up properly as she shakes her phone annoyed.

“That stupid piss baby is blowing up all our phones having a tantrum, like we have time to deal with his dramatics. Vox is busy which means I am going to have to deal with him and I have a hundred different things to do and I just- “ Turning her phone while she ranted so you can see the masses of messages from Valentino you hold back a sigh. He’d been so good recently it was easy to forget that he was the most dramatic out of the three of them (which if you considered how dramatic they all are is an achievement in itself!)

“Sweets don’t worry, I’ll go and chat with him you keep working on what you need to do” you stand from your seat stretching your back which was aching from being laid funny for so long. Vel argued for a few moments before relenting and passing you your phone from the table, popping a quick kiss on her cheek as you walk round her you wiggle your fingers in a goodbye gesture. Entering the elevator you pressed the button for Valentino’s floor. A quick scroll on your phone you see the various messages from Valentino progressively getting more pissed off when no one was replying. Oops. Piss baby indeed.

A sharp ping distracted you from the messages, shoving your phone into your pocket you enter Valentino’s studio. Up till now you had only made a few trips to his studio, preferring the calmness of Vox’s office, or focusing on the clothes in Velvette’s – Val’s had a completely different vibe which sometimes put you on edge. A few steps into the room you could feel the energy was chaotic already. A Valentino shouting at the two pornstars on the stage was the reason why. Sighing under your breath you could easily see he wasn’t exactly as calm as you would have hoped. Well. Here goes nothing.

Walking towards the Overlord, you nod to a few of the demons who recognised you from around the tower and glared at the ones who give you a bit of attitude who obviously don’t realise who you were. They soon would. Coming to a stop at a ranting Val’s side you watch him snap a few directions at the actors with comments on how they could (should) improve. Before he could yell action, you link an arm through his while whispering up into his ear: “is that how you are going to direct me in bed?” His head twists round so fast his glasses nearly fly off, catching them you grin up at the shocked Overlord. Shocked is definitely better than shouting.

“My amorcito (little love), what are you doing here?” Slipping his glasses properly back on his face, you can’t help but chuckle at his question.

“You ask as if you weren’t blowing up all of our phones continuously for the past hour – I’ve come to check up on you”, as you explain one of his arms wraps around your waist to drag you around the side of his chair, so now you were in front of him.

“You came to check on little ol’ me? I am touched!” His other hand was cupping your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks a little harder than normal reminding you of his festering anger. Your own hand came up to rest on his wrist as you nod, his hand controlling how much movement you had which sent a small tingle up your spine. Okay you had definitely been spending way too much time with the Vee’s because when did you get that sort of kink?

He must have seen something in your expression as his own darkened with a sinister grin, his gold tooth flashing at you. Bringing another hand to your waist he hoisted you onto his lap like you weighed nothing, squeaking at the sudden movement you placed your hands on his arms to steady yourself. He had made sure to place you with your back against his chest and two of his arms stayed wrapped around your waist pressing you closer to him.

“If you want to keep me calm little one, I suggest you stay there and stay quiet, yes?” Agreeing you rested against his chest as he shouted at the actors to start again. Sitting there you kept quiet, but with how Valentino was sat you had the full show of what the actors were doing on the stage. Adverting your gaze, a flush started to raise up your neck to your cheeks more so when you couldn’t help but take a cheeky glance. How on hell do they stay in those positions without breaking a sweat? After a few minutes of that position, Val shouted for them to change. His hands rubbing up and down your waist as well as the scene in front of you was making the jeans you were wearing mighty uncomfortable.

Doing your best to ignore the urge the relieve the pressure, you hesitated before shifting on Valentino’s lap to try and stop the seam of your jeans pressing against your clit. Moving a bit too quick, a gasp escaped your lips as small burst of pleasure flashed through your body. A chuckle against your ear made the blush grow even more. Busted.

“Comfortable Princessa?” His hushed words into your ear made a shiver run down your spine. Another chuckle from him caused you to roll your eyes. Of course he was loving this. Ready to shove his arms away from your waist and storm out, a pair of red wings encasing your body stopped you in your tracks. You hadn’t seen his wings before.

“Now sit still and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while daddy finishes his work”, you are ready to give him some sarcastic and harsh words, but a quick hand sneaked down the front of your jeans and underwear. Slipping a finger in between your wet lips gathering the wetness up and pressing harshly against your clit made any words you wanted to say to stay stuck in your throat. Gulping back the moan that wanted to escape, you clench your thighs together to try stop him from moving his fingers.

Tutting quietly into your ear, two hands easily push your thighs apart and hold them open while the hand that was down your jeans was alternating between circling your clit and dipping into your tight hole. “Now mi carño, that bratty attitude might work with Voxie, but not with me you understand?” Your concentration was gone with the fingers that were pushing you closer and closer to the edge making you whine under your breath when they came to a stop. Blinking up at him, his free hand wrapped around your neck harshly before giving you a small shake. “Are you that starved for attention little one that you have become dumb as soon as I touch you? I asked you a question!” He snarls down at you, swallowing a groan you try to rack your brains at what he asked you before. It was so hard to think while his fingers were working you so well and that hand around your neck was just helping push you closer to that edge. Bratty. Bratty attitude that was what he asked you.

“I understand Papi” you whisper, hiding your smirk at the dark expression he gave you. A finger driving deeper into you was your retribution for the snarky comment. Worth it. He yanked your body closer to his chest by the hand on your throat, keeping you plastered against him as his other hands kept your legs open and driving you higher and higher.

“Does it turn you on that we are doing this where anyone could see us Y/n? All it takes is for me to move my wings and anyone can see you unravel on my fingers” licking up your neck making a small moan escapes your lips.

“It does, but do you really want others to see me in that position? To see me fall apart at your hands when my reactions should only be reserved for you three Vee’s?” You turn your head to stare into his lensed glare. You knew you were playing with fire. Valentino was the most jealous and possessive of the three, but he was also the most unpredictable. A thrill ran through your body as he growled into your shoulder, biting down on it hard making you groan. Shit that hurt! Removing his teeth, you see his possessive bite mark on your shoulder. The sound he let out was almost a purr as he ran his tongue over the mark, his fingers moving quicker on your clit causing you to slam your head back into his chest and hold back the moans so only a few whimpers fell from your lips.

He laughed at you, shouting a few more orders and commands at the actors being completely at ease while you were falling apart at the seams. So close to the edge you dug your fingers into his arms, whimpers and moans escaping you more often now but you had stopped caring if the other demons could hear. You were so focused on the feeling coursing through your veins you couldn’t give a fuck if the rest of the room heard you scream.

Val did some sort of voodoo move with his fingers that had you cuming without even realising that you had not just hit the edge but had flown off it. The hand that was around your throat was now across your mouth muffling all the moans and shouts as Valentino shouted cut and for everyone to fuck off out of the room.

Twitching and twisting away from his fingers that continued moving, you shook your head at Val. It was too much. Too much. You tried to get your hands down your jeans to stop him, but they were caught by his own.

“My little chulito, you didn’t think I was finished with you yet, did you?”

Fuck!

Taglist:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler

@ace-spades-1 @iamferalfordilfs

@justgiulia @kittycatkrissa @qu1cks1lversb1tch @martinys-world @superwholatacohunters @mysticvoide

@rosiethevoxobesser

@skullhorn59 @sarcastic-sourwolf

@samanthastarss @hazbinz-vixxie

@shinynewboots

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

Text

straw poll: How Many Times Can You Sleep In The Same Bed With A Guy Before It Starts To ✨Mean Something✨?

Because Steve's just there to be a good friend hold Eddie close through the night so Eddie knows what his breathing sounds like as he falls asleep help Eddie through the nightmares, right?(!??!)

or: just how many manners of sin does 'trauma' cover, exactly?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< two: wash🚿

💤🪦 three: sleep 🌗 🛌

Eddie shoots up in his bed, less afraid of choking on his own heart for its pounding than he is for gnashing it apart with his teeth, it’s surged so high and he can’t breathe, he doesn’t know if he wants to because it’s dark and he can’t see and last thing he did see was, was—

“Ed,” and it’s murmured so close, and the bed dips quick as warmth envelops Eddie’s frame, as a hand grabs one wrist, both wrists and crushes them between two bodies to feel, feel—

“Eddie, breathe, breathe, shhh,” and oh: that’s what he’d seen, what he always sees now: the images he remembers, and the things he’s been told of his own near-demise, but it’s not his body; it’s never his body and more, and worse, they’re always too late and he’s being told to breathe but he can’t, he can’t breathe because they failed, he failed and Steve’s not breathing, he’ll never breathe again—

“Right here, Eds, I’m right here,” and one hand lets go of him and starts carefully wiping at Eddie’s face, drying his eyes so they can focus and recognize not just the touch and the scent and the heat but the sight of the body wrapped around him.

“I’m with you, you’re okay,” Steve breathes, he breathes and Eddie can feel it, he can feel it and it makes no sense but it’s clear and it’s deep and deliberate and, and—

“Breathe with me, come on, just breathe,” Steve coxes a little like soothing a wounded animal and…that’s apt, Eddie feels small and skittish and he needs the warmth and the dawning truth of Steve’s weight against his bones; “it’s okay, everyone’s okay,” and yes, yes, that’s important, that’s so important but it’s not enough, there’s still blood pumping like it wants to leap from his mouth as he gasps because he cannot fucking breathe until—

“I’m okay.”

Steve says it as just part of an ongoing litany of reassurance, hopes to calm Eddie into, y’know, the basic needs of human survival, heart and lungs remembering how to move right but—

Steve’s okay.

It’s like Eddie heart and lungs had an agenda; like maybe they didn’t want to move right if the dream—a dream, a dream, just a dream, Steve’s chest lifts against him, falls, lifts again, and again, and again, real—but maybe neither was really invested in survival, if it all hadn’t just been a dream.

“We’re okay, Eds,” and Eddie doesn’t mean to gasp, to half moan and half whimper in something wreathed in pure relief, doesn’t plan to burrow into Steve like he does as Steve presses closer, closer, so it’s only logical, only the reasonable thing when Steve’s lips move against Eddie’s skin at the hairline, at the temple when he speaks, he’s just that close, y’know—

“Swear,” Steve murmurs, and he crushes their hands a little closer between both their chests, and his face is still so close because of it—no other reason, it can’t be any other reason—that his lips drag when he breathes, when he fucking vows:

“I swear we’re okay.”

Eddie nods, just nods; Steve keeps him tucked under his chin, safe: he lifts with his breathing, his heartbeat’s right there, taunt but true, realand maybe Eddie nuzzles there a little, so fucking sue him.

It’s been like this, though. Lately. More than just lately; it’s been like this for a while. Steve had always been around for the nightmares, and he always came to ease Eddie through them but he ended up back on the couch if Wayne wasn’t there, or in the chair in the corner, or the sleeping bag they’d found and he’d set up on the floor before Eddie could protest—and he never wanted to push too hard because, because…

At least on the floor, Eddie could hear him breathe.

But then, then the nightmares stopped being highlight reels of reality; then they turned, and they’re focused on…variations on a theme.

A theme of losing one Steve Harrington.

And then Eddie grew clingy, without even meaning to, or planning to, and Steve never fought him. It took a couple weeks before Steve didn’t only come to him as soon as Eddie started gasping, screaming and then stayed with him through the night, no: then Steve just started coming with him to bed and opening his arms to roll into, to wake up shaking against.

It didn’t make the nightmares go away but it made them…bearable. Because proof of the lies in them was there waiting to wrap around him, if he wasn’t already buried in that warm, fuzzy, living chest.

Where Eddie’s pressed tight, now. And he…he couldn’t say what tips the scales. What changes things when nothing is different. Steve’s heartbeat’s a little faster, maybe Eddie’s gasping heavier, more of Steve in his lungs than usual. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Whatever the reason, Eddie lets his open lips drag along Steve’s collarbone. For proximity’s sake.

“Steve?”

And Eddie’s back to feel like his heart’s less a threat like the bat tails choking than it is for the biting in half where it’s caught on his tongue, like an offering, or else damnation.

Maybe both.

“Hmm?” Steve’s hum’s a little sleepy but he’s quick to maneuver them, to face Eddie and rove eyes over Eddie’s face with fully-wakeful care; concern.

Offering. His heart’s a manic wild thing thrashing on his tongue when he makes to speak but it’s…

It’s Steve’s. His heart is Steve’s and Eddie’s lost but in maybe the best most terrifying way imaginable; Eddie is beholden to Steve with all of him, and if the ungainly pulp shaking out of his ribs and up past his throat’s going to fall out with the words he has to whisper, well.

It’s Steve’s, and whether he feels anything at all in return, he’s been more than the word kind knows how to hold; maybe he’ll be gentle with it even in rejecting how it shakes, for him.

Kinda, just for him. Like this: just for him.

“What is this?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t gesture or look anywhere but in Steve’s eyes but: their hands are still linked, and his fingers twitch without him meaning to move them at all but Steve.

Steve grips tighter. Steadies him with question; immediate.

“Trauma,” Steve huffs a little, humorless, but his breath’s so near, so warm: “or so they tell me.”

“No, I mean,” and Eddie’s shaking his head then because; “yeah, yes, definitely that, but,” and Eddie can be brave, he has to be brave because if he’s not brave this will maybe break him: the middle space without an answer, he needs some kind of answer—

“I mean this,” and now Eddie forces himself to tighten his fingers, and presses into Steve closer: Steve’s heart isn’t wild, but it’s not calm either. It’s not sleep-slow. It’s…untamed.

Eddie doesn’t know what it means.

But Steve looks at their hands, pulls Eddie’s fingertips through the curls on his chest, starts tracing Eddie’s nails from cuticle to tip.

“I’ve never been good with subtle,” Steve barely breathes, and his heart’s faster for it, where Eddie can feel; “or moving slow,” and then he laughs; it’s not humorous now either, more self deprecating, and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t like that.

Eddie loves this man too much.

“Kinda notorious for wearing my heart on my sleeve and all,” and Steve shrugs, only pauses the motions of their hands for half a breath, less than a heartbeat at the going pace. It feels too small for something so…significant.

Something precious like that.

“Easy to get stomped on,” Eddie finds the words tumbling out, almost aggrieved; he heard the rumors, even among their friends, their family but faced with it so stark like this, naked chest to chest, it’s…unthinkable.

It hurts, just to think of.

“Yeah,” Steve exhales; fucking…Eddie thinks that sounds resigned: “I know.”

Eddie doesn’t expect the whine that escapes him, a little jagged on the frantic pulse he can feel all in his teeth; he doesn’t expect it, but it’s not big enough. It’s not deep enough for the ache in him at that…acceptance, that expectation of hurt.

“I didn’t,” Eddie starts, desperate for him to know; however this plays out, Steve cannot ever, ever believe his heart isn’t…isn’t the most invaluable gift in, in—

In any universe. Any dimension. Across any existence at all worth knowing.

He doesn’t think the words he knows could do the sentiment justice, though. And words, shit: he should be good with those but, even if he knew the right ones. Hell just fought up his still-pounding heart with a flail and that’s…

He grabs Steve's hand tighter, fit to break bones: the need unquestionable.

He hopes the want, the devotion in him translates just as clear.

And then, oh holy fuck—then.

Steve holds back just as hard.

“I wanted to try to keep the ball in your court,” Steve exhales, shaky; and Eddie knows, he knows they’re on the same page. Steve’s heart’s so fast. Eddie’s is faster.

“I told you,” Eddie starts, more like he’s trying to figure it all out for himself more than arguing anything but, how could Steve had thought Eddie didn’t, how could—

Why would anyone trust Eddie with any kind of sports-oriented ball—

“With the shower, and—“

“I’m not that guy anymore,” Steve barely whispers; “you might’ve had a crush on me then but now I’m,” Eddie feels Steve swallow; hears his heartbeat maybe skip; “I think, I mean, I hope I’m a different person.”

Eddie has to breathe at the notch in Steve’s throat for a couple seconds, maybe minutes; this…this sounds like…like maybe…

“And just because the ball’s in your court,” Steve’s pulse kicks up, and up, and—

“Didn’t mean my heart wasn’t still held out for the stomping,” and he’s twirling Eddie’s hair, he’s twirling his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he talks about the impossible possibility of, of what: Eddie…not wanting, of Eddie doing the stomping—

Eddie can barely swallow.

“You saying you wouldn’t help bathe all your friends in similar circumstances?” he mostly kinda squeaks; he can barely hear over the rush of his own blood.

“I’m saying not all of them,” there’s a little smile in Steve’s voice, but his pulse is still knocking against where Eddie pressed into his neck; “but I wouldn’t be risking my heart for it either way.”

And Eddie…Eddie thinks he’s maybe dying, for real this time. He thinks maybe he’s never felt alive before this moment, ever.

He blames the confusion, for not thinking through his next words.

“Would it be too not-slow,” Eddie mouths against the pulsepoint jumping at him, fit perfect to his lips; “or unsubtle, if I said I thought I was in love with you?”

He might not think the words through, but hell if he regrets them for a goddamn second.

Not when Steve doesn’t move to pull away, doesn’t let go at all, holds on tight—but the pulse against Eddie’s lips redefines what it means to hammer, to race.

Eddie starts thinking about turning, looking Steve in the eye and hoping to find what he…what he thinks he’ll find but there’s still a part of him that’s scared, that’s not brave, that’s…

But then Steve’s moving, raising up to meet Eddie’s gaze: so bright in the middle of the night, in the pitch dark. Lips open, breathing heavy, their chests still flush but now Steve’s reaching, framing Eddie’s face and just…looking.

Nah, no: staring.

“Steve?” Eddie thinks it’s more a matter of his lips moving than of sound coming out, especially as he tries to follow the pad of Steve’s thumb as it traces the corner of Eddie’s lips, careful, so careful, like Eddie’s glass and wonder all at once and—

“I think I’m in love with you, too.”

And then Steve’s leaning in, then Eddie’s learning that Steve tastes like leftover toothpaste and some kind of spice they hadn’t eaten, that Eddie doesn’t know: thinks, believes is what dawn tastes like, the breaking of day itself in Steve’s mouth, his veins.

They move slow, slick, tongues less exploring and more kinda worshipping; Eddie’s been kissed harder and faster and deeper for the technical definitions of any of the terms but he’s never felt so dizzy, so spun from the axis of his world, the line that splits his heart in halves; never like someone was tongue his soul out gentle to weigh and bathe in, like, adoration.

Eddie doesn’t have a word for how it steals his breath.

“Hey,” he tried to gasp anyway when they break apart for air; “hey, Stevie?”

“Hmm?” Steve hums, running the line of his nose up Eddie’s jaw, and Eddie throws his head back, shivers when Steve licks at the fading scars as he goes. When he makes it to kiss Eddie’s temple—because now he means to, or maybe he always did and, oh, oh shit, what if he always did—then he leans back and looks at Eddie, and there’s…

There’s so much in those eyes. It makes Eddie feel…almost-brave.

“What if I took the ‘think’ out?”

Steve tips his head, fucking adorable.

“Whatcha mean?”

Eddie swallows, and soaks up that gaze some more: almost-brave.

“I said I think I’m in love with you,” Eddie exhales; “what if I said that, but I took out the part where I say ‘think’?”

And oh wow: he’d thought, he’d known Steve was some inexplicable light before.

He’s putting their whole galaxy’s suns, every one of them Eddie doesn’t even know—the way his eyes shine and his smile beams puts every goddamn one of them to shame.

And Eddie doesn’t expect it, exactly, when Steve gathers his hands again and crushes them to his chest just to murmur low:

“Then I’d say this is yours to do with whatever you’d like,” and he moves Eddie’s palms to cup around the beat that’s still so fast and hard but not pulled taut anymore, closer to sugar high, or a rubber ball ricocheting around the ceiling just for the joy in it; “stomping included,” and he smiles for it like a joke but…but Eddie would never so—

He leans in and this time he captures the lips, and he presses hard, dares to nip at Steve’s lower lip and bite out:

“Never,” and he meets Steve’s eyes, watching them dilate impossibly in too little light and he just, he just…

He falls into Steve, presses his cheek close and, and feels him. Somehow all of it’s new.

“You okay?” Steve eventually asks, but doesn’t pull away, just slides a hand up the line of Eddie’s spine to steady, to keep him like there’s a question of Eddie going anywhere but here every again; and then just leans into Eddie’s cheek, magnetic-like.

And okay is such a foolish, insignificant word. Eddie could hold the weight of the earth ten times over, he feels strong enough; Eddie could swallow the stars and it wouldn’t matter because he has his own sun right in front of him.

Eddie doesn’t know if he understood the word happy before this moment, and every synonym for it that means the exact same thing’s a lot like okay: just too fucking small.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, and breathes Steve in so deep his lungs kinda shake for it before he breathes back out; “yeah, sweetheart,” and fuck, fuck—Eddie Munson’s not just in love.

Eddie Munson is loved in return. Eddie Munson loves, and is loved back. That’s…that’s just…

“I’ve never been better.”

>>> four: play 🎶🎧🎹

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