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toruro · 1 year

Text

— ✧ red (k)nights

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. minghao is your knight in shining armor. literally.

tags. smut (18+), so much fluff, royal au, princess!reader, knight!minghao, secret relationship (kind of?!), minghao’s finger pieces from the super mv …

outfit inspo. minhgao's armor is as shown in the pics, his robes are similar to the light brown ones worn in their inkigayo performance, & reader's robes are of similar design to their 2nd outfits in the super mv!

fic playlist.

w/c. 6.7k

a/n. i'm usually not into royal aus or any au in general that isn't modern, but i had so much fun writing this and i think my mind has changed ... so i hope u enjoy! comments/reblogs are always appreciated c:

“You’re upset,” Eunji notes, walking into your room as sunlight peeks through your silk blinds.

Grumbling, you slowly push yourself off the mattress and lean against the headboard as you rub your eyes. The soft browns and golds of your room are starting to sink into your vision as you adjust to the light, murmuring, “You didn’t knock.”

Eunji sighs, patting her hands down on her apron after setting down your black robe. “Your father doesn’t have any rules about walking in without knocking. And besides, you always lock the door if it’s necessary—if it isn’t locked, I assume it’s alright for me to walk in.”

“What about my rules?” you huff, finally slipping out of bed so Eunji can help you slip into your daytime robes.

“I don’t suppose you’re the king?” she responds as you groggily make your way up to her, your nightgown wrinkling at the ends.

“Eunji,” you whine, throwing yourself onto one of your plush lounge chairs in front of her. “I’m too tired,” you grumble when she points at the robe, again, signaling you to put it on.

“You’re upset,” she corrects, lifting the clothes and unwinding them for you as you begrudgingly stand up and slip off the dress, leaving you only in your undergarments.

“He’s still gone,” you whisper quietly, lifting your arms so Eunji can slip in the sleeves from behind you, moving in front to help tie up the flat, golden drawstrings on the front into bows.

“Away. He is away, not gone,” Eunji says with a pat on your shoulders, adjusting the edges and collar of your velvet robe.

“What’s the difference?” you mutter once she’s done.

“The difference is he will be back,” she explains simply, taking a step back to admire her work. “Now, let’s get you down for breakfast? I wouldn’t want to be caught making you late for your meal by gossiping about your—” she pauses. Eunji is among three of maybe your only friends in the entire kingdom, yet she still bites her tongue, still holds back. You used to resent her for it, but now you understand it’s only natural—after all, it is her job to take care of you, and being careful is just what she has to do. But right now, Eunji is your friend, not your maid, and what she follows with only confirms that fact—“your boy.”

Your lips break into a bright grin at the mere name—your boy. You should feel childish—Minghao is so much more than a boy. He’s a gentleman, he’s strong, he’s confident—he is so much. But after all of that, after his sword is yielded, after all his armor is stripped, Minghao is yours—your boy.

“Will you let me do your hair?” Eunji interrupts your thoughts, holding up a few hair ribbons from your large vanity across the room. You grimace, shaking your head.

“I feel like I might go bald every time you do,” you tell her. Eunji gives you a stern look and you let your shoulders sag. “Fine, but please be gentle. I’m already under so much stress, I can’t have any more pressure on my head.”

“Stress?”

You shrug, a small smirk poking at your cheeks. “Oh you know. Just my boy.”

Eunji escorts you down to the dining hall after raking all your hair into some tight updo. Wincing as you pick at the ribbons, she scurries off when you sit down to order the chefs to present you breakfast.

“Good morning, Princess,” a familiar voice greets, Mingyu placing down a steel plate littered with an array of fruits. “What would you like this morning?”

You watch Eunji who re-enters as you formulate your response. “I’m not really hungry right now, if I’m being honest…” you sigh.

“Don’t let her get away with that!” Eunji calls out from the other end of the room, and you cross your hands over your chest as she walks over. Mingyu gives you a concerned look, and Eunji continues. “She’s saving her appetite for when she plans to sneak out in the evening!” she says in a half whisper, half yell sort of voice.

Mingyu’s eyes widen when he looks down on you. “You actually snuck out that time? I thought you were just bluffing so you wouldn’t have to have breakfast with your cousins!”

“It was both,” you grumble as you roll your eyes. “I’m sorry, but they’re insufferable—the both of them! And then…” your voice trails off, “Mingyu you know your food is great and I love it but there’s this fruit stall down in the civil grounds and—”

“You snuck out for fruit?” Mingyu gasps, stepping back. Pointing at the platter in front of you, he says, “I should have you know these are harvested from the finest farm in the kingdom.” You stick your tongue out at him, glancing at Eunji who is giving you a funny look. Mingyu catches on, and his eyes narrow. “Are you keeping a secret from me? Oh my god—you know I hate being left out of things.”

“You have a big mouth,” Eunji murmurs and you laugh along in agreement.

Mingyu frowns, swiping the platter away from you as you reach for a grape. “Hey! This is no way to treat a princess,” you pout.

“Tell me what’s going on then?” he pleads, and you glance at Eunji who seems to take it upon herself to spill the beans for you. Leaning in, she motions for Mingyu to come closer so you can all lower your voices.

“She went to see her boy,” she whispers.

Once again, you can’t help but let the grin break out onto your face. Your boy.

Fuck, you really miss him.

Him, being the man who followed you many nights ago as you tried to sneak out of the castle grounds. It’d been a boring few weeks and you overheard Eunji gushing to one of the other maids about a festival that took place in the civil grounds.

You’d heard of it before, and even showed up to the festival occasionally over the years, but it was only ever for a sparring moment—to sit and look pretty, wave hellos and goodbyes before you were being dragged back to the castle.

So when you heard that Eunji was planning on using one of her few, sacred days off, you just had to know what was so exciting about it—your temptation exceeded your ability to follow the rules.

Slipping into some old brown robes you used to wear for your dance training, you wrapped a shawl over your head and over the bottom half of your face in hopes to conceal as much of your identity as possible.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Or, well, maybe you could. You’d fantasized about this moment for ages, never really having the drive to go through with it though. That is, not until now. Still, you’d played this chain of events too many times for anything to go wrong. You had thought about every possible chance of something going wrong, and right now you were certain that you had planned against it.

Foolproof. Your plan just had to be foolproof.

So when you snuck off that night, when the deep oranges of the sunset turned to red and soon to black, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that things would go perfectly fine. That you’d be able to run through the gardens, through the militia grounds, and into the civil grounds, slip in and out of the festival, and back into your bed before anyone could even realize that the princess wasn’t in her bed.

Silly you for not accounting for him.

Him, being the man who was out in the militia courtyards, donned in his training robes as he read a book under the dim light of a flickering, yellow lantern. Him, being the man you thought wouldn’t recognize your figure as you scurried through the pathway and towards the exit to the civil grounds.

You were foolish, and Minghao was perceptive.

You hardly were in the crowd at the festival for more than half an hour before a strong hand tugged at your wrist. Considering yelling for help, you opened your mouth to scream, but not before a large, warm hand clasped over your mouth, trapping in any noises you made. He was gentle with the way he pulled you to a quiet place behind the wall, and even under the dim, crimson glow from the festival, you’re able to make out his face when he finally releases you.

His face was no stranger to your eyes, as his duties as a performance knight had him on and off palace grounds consistently. Xu Minghao. You remembered the name, and watching the scarlet hues fall on his skin, you were reminded of just why his face has not left your mind—why you recall him, and not any other knights.

The redness casted a sharp shadow over him, sharp jawline seeming further whetted under this new glow. Minghao’s dark and shiny hair hung perfectly to shield his gorgeous eyes from the bright lights from around you, and you find yourself growing mesmerized by the way he gazes down at you so … passionately.

Finally breaking the silence that stuffed the space between you, he spoke, “What are you doing here, Princess?” Unexpected of the concern that laces his tone, you were taken aback, mouth falling slightly agape as you wondered why he chose not to scold or reprimand you.

“I wanted to see the festival,” you finally managed to whisper, tearing your eyes away from the handsome man in front of you to look behind at the celebrations taking place all around you. Minghao studied your face for a few pensive moments before sighing and nodding.

He surprised you again with his next, quiet words, “I can show you.”

Looking up at him with bright eyes, you beamed.

Sneaking out to your “fruit stall” doesn’t work, not when Eunji is on your tail. You huff and puff when she sits you down in your room that night, but then she’s whispering into your ear about how his team will be arriving the next morning.

That night, your stomach churns with the anticipation of seeing him, touching him, holding him. It’s been too long, and all you’ve been left with for the past weeks is the ghost of his touch against yours, imagining it’s Minghao when you hug your pillow every night.

You don't get an ounce of sleep, of course, but when you wake up after dozing off to the bright, morning sky, you feel nothing but excitement bubble up in your stomach. You ask Eunji to dress you in your robe of finest silk, and she grins, feigning ignorance as to the reason behind your request.

“This would look nice, don’t you think?” you murmur, holding up a silver dangling hair pin.

Eunji walks over, inspecting the little accessory you’ve picked out. “I don’t understand why you’re putting so much thought into this…he’s seen you in much less,” she mutters and you gasp loudly, nudging her shoulder.

“Y-you said you would never bring that up!” you stutter out, placing the pin back down. The that in question being the time you had snuck Minghao into your room one night and forgot to lock your door. That morning, Eunji was met with the side of a bare chested knight and the princess rolling around together under the sheets, the first person to be introduced to your little secret.

Eunji only hums, looking over your array of jewelry. “The gold would look nicer,” she tells you, ignoring your previous exclamation. She lifts a nearly identical hair pin, except this one is coated in gold, matching the shimmering designs on your robes.

You smile and nod, turning around in response so she can put the pin in your updo. As you continue to go about your morning, there’s an extra jump to your step when you make your way to the militia office. Inside is your father’s head officer, Seungcheol, sitting at his desk as he goes through the papers.

“The demo team comes back today, right Officer?” you ask curiously, stepping in.

Cheol looks up at you, eyebrows quirked. “They came back this morning, yes,” he replies, standing up as he organizes some of the papers in a neat stack. “Excited?”

“No, why would I be?” you say, letting your shoulders deflate a little to hide your very real and very true excitement. Seungcheol gives you a cheeky smile as he adjusts his coat.

“You’re not great at lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest nonchalantly as Seungcheol walks out of the room, letting you follow behind.

“Really? Your father is picking up on it too. Tell me to tell him how the demo team is doing. Asks me to let him know if there’s anyone that seems … suspicious.”

You scoff, letting your hands fall to your side, “Well he hasn’t said anything to me about it … yet at least.” You sigh, figuring that if Seungcheol already has an idea of what’s going on, there’s no point in feigning ignorance. “Was I being too obvious when I asked for a whole unit to be moved from the battle team to the demo team?”

Seungcheol laughs. “Yes. Your father is definitely—”

“Suspecting?”

“No, that’s not the right word. I think he seems more open to the idea than you might think. I was just going to say he has a feeling you and one of the demo team’s members are … are involved.”

You hum in response, skipping besides Seungcheol as you make your way to the militia courtyard. “That’s good to hear.”

“I guess. Whether your father approves so far or not, tell your boy—” Your heart flutters when Seungcheol says it like that. “—whichever one he is, to keep in line. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to report any bad news back to the King.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, walking outside into the field of grass where some soldiers are lined up in neat rows in front of a black, raised platform where you and Seungcheol are supposed to stand. As you near the group of soldiers, your stomach ties up in a tight knot when you catch sight of the familiar face.

Walking timidly up to the platform next to Seungcheol, you place your hands in front of you, playing with your fingers as you struggle to break your eyes away from Minghao. He isn’t looking at you right now—he isn’t allowed to you.

With his helmet drawn by his side, sword sheathed at his back, crimson armor with gold intricacies glistening under the sun, it’s all too much for you—Minghao in his armor is a force of beauty, and one to be reckoned with.

And he’s standing so straight, so tall, his well built figure being accentuated by the sharp curves of the metal that plates his skin and you start to lose track of Seungcheol’s words. It isn’t until he nudges you in your side when you jump up and out of your reverie, only to see him looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Princess,” he says loudly, and then much quieter, “Are you alright?”

“I—yes, sorry. It’s just the sun, it’s in my face and I lost track of things for a moment,” you lie, looking back at the knights standing in uniform in front of you.

“Do you want to head back inside? You don’t really have to be—”

“I’ll stay,” you say quickly. “What was it I needed to do?”

“Some last words for them. It’s been a long few weeks, so just say something and formally release them for this week.”

Right. That’s why you’re here. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back, causing the men to all turn their attention to you. Finally, both you and Minghao think. Finally he can look at you.

And fuck, you look so beautiful with your hair pinned back and loose ribbons strewn in, your black and gold royal robes hanging effortlessly off your body with the little bows decorating your waist. Gentle fingers clasped in front of you and Minghao can almost feel your gentle touch on him when you speak.

“Thank you for your excellent performances over the past weeks,” you begin to speak, your eyes doing their best to not linger on Minghao too long. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, and to express my gratitude, you are relieved of your duties from now until the end of this weekend. Report to your duties the following morning as you would on any regular schedule. Thank you again.” You close with a bow, stepping back and motioning your hand out front as to signal.

“You are dismissed,” Seungcheol calls out loudly, and you see the way the soldier’s immediately drop their shoulders, their gazes averting to each others’ as they break out into loose conversation. Well, all but one. Minghao’s eyes are locked in on yours and you’re finding it impossibly hard to look away.

Looking up at Seungcheol, “Can I go now?”

“Of course. Thank you for showing up. Do you need one of us to escort you back to the castle grounds or—”

You shake your head quickly, eyes flickering to Minghao who is making conversation with one of his platoon members casually. “N-no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? You aren’t looking too well. I think it’d be safest if you had one of them help you.”

“I—” you pause, “Okay, I’ll take him,” you say before Seungcheol can make his own decision, pointing at Minghao. Hearing your raised voice, he turns to see your finger in his direction, both you and Seungcheol looking straight at him. Seungcheol looks at you as Minghao walks over, but eventually shrugs.

“Minghao, take the princess to castle grounds,” Seungcheol instructs, throwing you a knowing look. He nods without a word, bowing to you and then his leader as the captain walks away to talk to some other soldiers, leaving just the two of you.

The air is thicker now—it’s filled with all the words you want to say, all the things you want to do, all the thoughts you’ve been thinking and fuck—you really missed him. You need to remind yourself that you’re still out in the open, still in the militia courtyard, still not alone, and you don’t even allow Minghao to do the formal, custom bow and greeting before you turn on your heel and rush away.

Your strides are long but his are longer and he keeps up with your discerningly fast pace, following you out of the courtyard, through the rows of decorated barracks, and off the militia grounds without a word. It’s only when you’re both alone in the small pathway that connects the militia grounds to the castle that you finally allow your pace to rest.

Minghao is the first to speak after glancing around to ensure that the coast is clear, “You seem to have forgotten that you’re the only one who isn’t lugging around 40 pounds worth of armor.” His voice comes out in soft pants, and it’s slightly gruff, but then he’s dropping his helmet to the ground and grabbing your face so he can smash your face into his.

His lips are chapped, moving roughly against yours hungrily, his tongue licking into your mouth as you struggle to place your hands—his armor isn’t the best for clinging onto—so you settle for placing them on his neck. Minghao’s own hands are cradling the back of your head, angling you better as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your mouth with a passion that threatens to consume you. He tastes of salt and sweat, your own lips sweet with the scent of royal gardens, and it all has you dizzy.

When Minghao breaks the kiss, you feel at a loss as you grapple for him, his skin, his touch against you. “Y-you need to get this off,” you say hastily, knocking on the steel armor that dons his body. You let your fingers trace down the hard material, finally letting them fall down to grasp one of the few exposed parts of his body left—his hands.

“Eager already?” his eyes flicker up at you and it seems to light a flame beneath you. You squeeze his fingers lightly, looking around you to make sure no one has stepped into this pathway yet.

“Whatever.” You pause. “I missed you,” you add quietly, as Minghao leans forward and adjusts the collar of your robes for you, the small gesture making your heart tender. His gaze softens, and he uses one hand to gently stroke your cheek.

“I missed you too. It was so long—I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses, and the admission has your lips pulling into a smile.

“Do you want to go to the gardens?” you ask excitedly, holding his hand up to your chest as you clutch it tightly. “The enclosed one? I’ll ask Eunji to make sure it stays private for the rest of the morning and—” Minghao’s lips pursed into a tight line causes disappointment to well up inside your belly. “What? You don’t want to?”

“No—no, of course I want to, it’s just…” his voice trails off and you look up at him dejectedly. “I need to go to the barracks. I know we have the week off but I still have things to do.”

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back a little. Minghao frowns, squeezing your cheek lightly with the calloused pads of his fingers.

“You know I want to. I just need to unpack and get this—” he looks down at himself and clanks the metal armor, “—get this shit off and take care of some stuff with Jun.” You nod understandingly, but he notices the ways your eyes droop down just a little. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he continues. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

Your eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Tonight?” Minghao nods with a smile, his hand still resting by your cheek, gently stroking your jawline. “The gardens? My room? Where?”

“I actually have a different place in mind. It’s in the civil grounds. It’ll be better if you can come before sunset…” As he speaks, his fingers trail down your neck, running over your collarbone right where the two ends of your robe meet just above your chest. His touch lingers for a few moments, burning trails of fire into your skin as you struggle to keep your heartbeat steady.

“The civil grounds? We’ve never gone there before,” you murmur, voice dripping with curiosity. “At least not since … well you know.” Since the night we met.

“Trust me?” The way he looks down at you with pure adoration makes you feel like he can hear your heartbeat from your chest, shaking the earth under you.

“Before sunset, right here,” you promise.

You can’t quite hide your enthusiasm from Eunji but you also can’t quite care. Nearly jumping off the walls from excitement, it feels like an eternity before the hour strikes seven and you’re whispering to her to cover for you as you slip off the castle grounds and to the little pathway that leads to the militia grounds.

And there he is, your boy, clad in no longer his armor but brown robes which hug his built figure. There is no sword drawn in his back nor is there a helmet clinging by his side, and you grin when you approach him with a smile, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Patting your back gently, Mingao places a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a warning look as your eyes ask for more. “Not now … not here,” he clarifies, running his hand over your head once, admiring the updo it’s in as he slots his other hand into yours. “Don’t you want to see where I’m taking you?”

You grip his hand tighter and nod as he pulls out a brown fabric from the crevice in his robe. “What’s this for?” you ask as he drapes it over your head gingerly, finally tying the loose ends under your chin.

“Just so you don’t get noticed. We are going to the civil grounds, after all,” Mingaho explains, patting your cheek lightly once he’s done and pulling you to follow after him as he leads the way. You’re both quiet as he leads you carefully through the paths of the militia grounds, finally sneaking you out through a side gate.

Minghao quietly pulls you through the winding streets of the civil grounds where the atmosphere is bustling, with vibrant colors, loud voices, and an endless amount of people flooding the pathways. It’s new, of course, but with the sun hanging low above you, Minghao’s warm hand encased around yours, and the promise of a good night in your mind, you feel oddly comforted.

You’re led through the crowds, Minghao holding you close to his side until he stops at the base of one, tall building, leading you through an alleyway and to the back where there’s a narrow staircase leading to the roof. With a hand on your back, he guides you up the stairs, still keeping close as he follows carefully behind you.

“This is Jun’s family’s old shop,” he explains as the distant sounds of laughter and music grow fainter. “They’ve moved buildings now, but me and Jun come here sometimes with friends because this one is really tall and … and well you’ll see,” he murmurs as you finally reach the top.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both walk onto the rooftop which is lined with a fence style barrier. The ground is covered in old rugs and there are some sacks and boxes strewn around. Walking over to the edge with Minghao, you gasp softly at the sight around you. The civil ground sprawls beneath you, and as you look up, you can see the castle against the blooming oranges and reds of the sky—it’s beautiful.

“This is … wow … this is really pretty, Hao,” you say, and his hold on you tightens for a second before letting go so he can turn around. He walks over to one of the boxes, rummaging through its contents before pulling out a few linen sheets and a lantern, setting it down on the rugs.

“Come, sit,” he instructs as he lays out the sheets, placing the light on top. You follow, smoothing your robes before sitting next to him and leaning into his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around you. Looking up, you watch the sky turn into a hue of orange so deep and vibrant that it’s nearly red.

“You really can’t get a view like this from the castle,” you say with a sigh as Minghao uses one hand to light up the lantern.

He hums in response, pressing a kiss to the temple of your head. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to bring you here for a while.” You turn to look up at him with a big grin, finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, and although you really are aching for more, you suppose you’ll settle for this right now. After all, you do have all night.

“This is beautiful,” Minghao tells you when you pull away, fingers brushing over the golden hairpin you stuck into your updo early in the morning.

“Eunji picked it out for me…”

He smiles at you gently, hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. “I love it. I actually wanted to show you something,” he says, pulling out a small object clasped in his hands.

Opening it up in front of you, on his palm sits a shiny, finger shaped accessory, gleaming with a hue that perfectly matches your hairpin. It vaguely resembles the figure of Minghao’s own fingers, and you run your fingers over the cool metal, tracing over the delicate patterns carved in.

“What’s this?”

“A prize. The kingdom was holding a competition for the different demonstration units, and as the leader of the unit that won, I was made this,” he explains, rubbing his own fingers over the accessory. Wordlessly, he slips it onto his middle finger and holds it up in front of you to see it more closely. As your vision zones in on the golden piece, you notice a shift in Minghao's eyes—a darkening intensity.

“Hao,” you whisper quietly, and then he’s bringing the decorated finger up to your face and pressing the cool metal against your lips. Gasping, you lean forward instinctively, your mouth wrapping around the piece instinctively. His hand in your mouth, you can smell him, although the taste of iron against your tongue is unfamiliar. New, but not unpleasant.

“You have no idea,” Minghao begins to say, pressing his fingers down on your tongue firmly, “how long I’ve been thinking about this.” You can’t respond, not with the way your mouth is stuffed, but you honestly don’t need to. The way your tongue swirls over his digits and teeths at the accessory is enough to tell Minghao that you’ve been aching for this just as long as he has. “Do you want to…try something?” he asks tentatively, slipping his slick fingers out carefully.

You don’t need to think about your answer, not with Minghao. You’d trust him no matter what, follow him anywhere, let him do anything to you. Your fingers toy with the ribbons of your robes as you nod eagerly, and he helps you untie them from your side. The cloth hangs loose from your shoulders now, the gap at your chest spreading now and leaving you bare.

The golden piece is still on his fingers, and as he trails his hands down the curve of your tits, pressing against your stomach and dipping in between your legs, Minghao watches your face contort into pleasure. The cool metal pressing against your warm cunt has your soft breaths turning into harsh pants as you grab his firm bicep, legs spreading instinctively.

Quickly, you glance around you, but Minghao quells your worries when he presses his lips against your neck and murmurs, “Don’t worry angel, we’re too high up for anyone to see.” His fingers are gliding between your folds as he sucks against your neck, and you know he wants to be sweet with you, wants to take his time, wants to be the patient gentleman he is, but it’s been far too long.

“Minghao,” you moan when his thumb brushes against your clit. “Wanna feel you,” your murmur, nudging his face in the crook of your neck with your own. He chuckles into your skin, licking a hot stripe over your skin before nodding. It hardly takes him a second before he’s circling your slick hole and pressing in.

The hard accessory is a new feeling—this isn’t the same as the familiar pads of Minghao’s long fingers rubbing against your plush walls, but you can’t say you don’t like it. Whining into his mouth as he kisses you, your hands roam Minghao’s body, tugging at the ropes of his robe around his torso.

As you aimlessly try to shuffle his robe off of him, Minghao starts to plunge his fingers in and out. Shrugging his robe off his shoulders, you’re finally able to press your palms against his hard chest, breaking away from the kiss so you can admire him. “You like it?” he asks amusedly as your mouth hangs wide open when he presses his fingers in extra deep with one thrust. Your head lolls back heavily, the finger piece adding an extra layer of thickness that you aren’t used to.

“Feels s’good,” you say softly, the moans getting caught in your throat when he speeds up his movements. “Love your fingers …” You take a deep breath before continuing. “Love y—you!” you whimper unexpectedly when you feel your orgasm creep up on you unexpectedly quickly.

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” Something about the way Minghao calls you princess is different from others. Maybe it’s the way he isn’t calling you that because you are the princess, but because you are his princess. His sweet girl, falling apart at the palm of his hand as he rubs your sensitive nub and continues to finger fuck you until you moan his name. His name falls from your lips like honey, sweet and thick as he kisses you passionately and doesn’t stop working you through your orgasm until you’re squirming in his hold and pawing at his pants.

Slipping out his fingers, Minghao holds the shiny accessory up, and it seems to shimmer even more now, coated in your wetness and reflecting the pretty red tint of the sky. Gently pulling the piece off his finger, he sets it to the side. “How was it?”

You smile hazily, still recovering from your much awaited orgasm. “I loved it … felt different but I loved it,” you tell him honestly, shuffling over on his lap as your robe falls completely off your body, leaving you in nothing but panties. Minghao’s breath hitches at the sight, and you grin as your fingers make their way to the firm waistband of his brown pants.

He’s quick to catch on, enveloping your lips in a kiss as he pulls his pants and boxers off in one go, hard cock springing free and hitting your thigh lightly. You feel the warm precum leak against your skin as you shift closer, your stomach pressing against his now that you’re both completely bare and more desperate than ever.

Minghao's arms wrap around your torso, one hand going down to line his thick tip up with your folds, letting himself get coated in your wetness. "You ready, angel?" he asks when your mouths break apart from each other, his pretty lips red and swollen. Your eyebrows pinch together when you feel his cock prodding at your entrance and you nod vigorously. “Words, princess, use your words.”

“Yes, Hao, ‘m ready,” you moan when you feel him press against you, letting your head fall to his shoulder. “So ready, so, so ready,” you continue, not being able to control yourself when you press your own hips down. Minghao gasps at the feeling of you sinking on him, warm walls hugging his cock and fuck, he realizes how much he missed you.

Realizes just how much his fist falls short of your perfect pussy—long nights of being without you so he to resort to jerking himself off to the thought of you but none of that compared to the feeling of you whining his name on top of him, hands clutching at his arms as you try to adjust to his size.

You’re also having your own moment of epiphany now too—realization that your fingers were not enough, and will never be enough. At least, not after you’ve felt Hao’s cock inside of you—one thrust in and he’s already hitting all the right spots and having you writhe on top of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Minghao groans when your ass settles fully on his lap, his cock pressed into you, balls deep, as your fingers lace into his hair and grab at his soft locks.

“Oh—oh m-my god, Hao,” you whimper when he shifts inside of you. The pain that once came from his size is now morphing into a white, hot pleasure that ripples through your spine as you lift your hips up halfway before letting them fall back down. “So—s’big,” you gasp out when his fat tip nudges against your cervix.

Minghao feels his cock twitch inside of you at your words, using his hands to guide your body so you can move and bounce on top of him with less effort. Your cunt is so tight around him and his eyes press shut tightly when he hears you call out his name. “Doin’ so good for me princess,” he praises when you roll your hips against his.

Both of your movements aren’t fast nor extravagant but it’s the way he’s so close to you, skin melting into one other as you share your breath and exchange moans. Bodies moving in sync as you drink in the velvety moans, your nose nuzzles into his when your thighs start to cramp up. “Hao …” you call out as his cock punches the air out of your lungs. “…’m tired,” you mewl, your hips stuttering into his.

His hand cradles your neck as you both still, murmuring, “I got you angel.” Swiftly, Minghao flips you over so your back is pressed against the sheets and he’s on top of you, arms on either side of your head to hold himself up. One hand comes up to hold your cheek as he starts to move again, taking control of the thrusts now.

Stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, he ruts his hips into yours, cock and pussy jamming together in a sloppy mess as you feel that knot in your tummy start to tie up again. “Missed you s’much,” you confess as heat flourishes through your body.

“Missed you too angel,” Minghao returns almost immediately, letting the snap of his hips become more sharp and forceful, your body jerking back and forth with each movement. Your eyes flicker between Hao’s pretty face, coated in a sheen layer of sweat, and the night sky that begins to loom into a dark purple, revealing the stars. “Gonna have to fuck you every single night now that I’m back,” he grunts when you squeeze around him extra tight, letting himself drop down onto his elbows.

You shudder at the idea of having Hao’s cock inside of you every night, and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle the pleasure. “I’ll—fuck—” you gasp between the words, “—I’ll sneak you in e-every night.”

“Yeah? Eunji’s not gonna get mad when she sees your door locked every morning?” he chuckles, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, biting down on your lip as your feel the knot being pulled and tugged inside you. “Fuck—Hao, ‘m so close, so, so close … Are you close?” you ask dazedly, lips puffy and eyes wide as you look up at him. And looks so sexy with the way his brown eyes watch you intently, his muscles flexing with every movement and Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.

“Yeah, ‘m close angel, your pussy so good,” he slurs as he meets your lips for a tongue tying kiss. And slowly and carefully, you both start to unwind, your orgasm hitting you first from the overstimulation of your first that never quite ebbed away, Minghao’s following suit as you let out whimpers moans of his name into his mouth, cock twitching before filling you to the brim with his thick ropes of cum.

Your ears ring of white noise for the next few moments as thrash against Minghao, your bodies melting into one until he finally breaks away from your lips, leaving you both as a tangled mess of limbs. You’re breathing heavily into each other and you can’t quite comprehend what’s going on until he whispers your name into your ear, eyes shooting back to life.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe before lifting his head so he can look at you intently.

“I love you,” you say, without a second of hesitation. He’s still inside of you, and now you’re hyper-aware of the growing mess that sits between your legs. Minghao kisses your nose as you look down when he finally slips out of you, a small noise of complaint leaving your lips. Inhaling deeply, you sit up. “You’re going to live up to that promise, you know,” you say shyly when he looks at you, sitting up as well to grab his robe. “You know … every single night.”

Minghao grins. “Of course I will.”

“Can I hold you to that?” you ask slyly, intertwining your fingers with his.

Minghao rolls his eyes, palm pressing against yours. “Guess we’ll just have to try ‘n’ find out.”

#minghao #minghao smut #minghao imagines #xu minghao #minghao x reader #minghao drabbles #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt smut #svt reactions #seventeen smut #the8 x reader #the8 smut #📝 writing

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leonw4nter · 2 months

Text

Silver Screen

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader modern AU (The 300 followers special!)

You walk into the room, an iPad opened to the latest installment of the fanfiction series you’ve been following for quite some time carried in the nook of your arm and salted caramel boba tea in the other. Setting the sugary drink on the table beside your spot on the couch, you temporarily put your iPad down to get into a comfortable position in the small pillow and blanket nest you’ve made for yourself. With a pleased sigh and an excited grin, you take a long sip of the beverage before finally picking the iPad up and have the coziest time of your life.

You were having a solid few hours of the coziest time of your life until you heard some soft sniffling coming from somewhere in the living room along with the faint pads of feet against the wooden floorboards. You look up, your eyes finally focused on something else other than pixels that formed words on a bright screen. There, you see him: your roommate Leon whose face is in his hands, ears red, and what seems to be muffled crying– no, sobbing as he walks around in circles.

Concerned for your friend and roommate, you get up from your place and walk up to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You place a hand on his broad back, patting and gently stroking it back and forth. Leon finally lifts his head up, wiping off his tears with the sleeve of his dark green sweatshirt.

“This author was not playing around, ended up crying.” is all he said which prompted you to try and hold back a giggle. So he’s been reading fics too, you think to yourself.

“Can I read it?” you ask, to which he nods and fishes his phone out from the pocket of his plaid pajama pants.

“Lemme find it real quick,” he responds. He’s still sniffling, the waterline of his eyes occasionally brimming with a new batch of salty tears before he blinks them away. He finally finds the fic he’s been reading, handing you his phone while he walks over to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water to stop hiccuping.

“You sure you’re fine?” you call out before you read.

“Yeah! Fic was just really… it was just something!”

You start reading the fic, your eyes trailing on the words on the screen. The words seemed familiar so you guessed that Leon had stumbled on a fic you’ve read before. Wrong! It was your fic, a fic you finished updating around last night. No wonder it was too familiar. You stared at the phone in your hand with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, a child caught with a jar of sweets in her hands when she shouldn’t have been eating sugary things. Your gaze drifted to Leon in the kitchen, who was still somehow trying to control his breathing while chugging down water like his life depended on it. He didn’t seem to notice the sudden drain of color in your face so you continue to scroll down, checking if he left any likes or reblogs or comments on your work. Another bombshell dropped: he’s the top reader of your work and the one that’s been keyboard smashing in the comments, along with the… soulful, emotional reblogs. His account is the one that’s religiously kept up with whatever you post, whether it be new fics or just random vents. BiohazardBard, the sweet account who comments nice stuff like “Don’t worry about us, take some time for yourself! U got this!!” and reblogs with tags like “UEIXGOFQWV CRIED SO HARD U DONT EVEN KNOW IEWBRXXR”on angst fanfiction is your roommate and also your crush.

You stand there in silence, mouth ajar as you continue to stare blankly into his phone, unable to process the fact that he’s aware of your online persona but he doesn’t know that it’s you. You exit the app and turn his phone off, walking over to him in the kitchen and give him pats to his shoulder to really make sure that he’s okay. If he’s calmed down then you’re not– internally, that is.

“That fic uh… it truly was something,” you sympathetically say. “Guessed that the part where uh- she leaves him was the one that got the water works going.”

“Oh um nope, it’s the part where things were slowly spiraling down. Got anxious for them then just full-on bawled when shit hit the fan,” he explains with a sheepish smile. “This fic is just bars, I love it so much actually– Might print a copy of this to take to work when I can’t be on my phone.”

To have your fics reblogged and your account be compared to the unburned version of the Library of Alexandria is one thing but to hear your number one dedicated reader say that to your face? After a breakdown? Nothing will ever top that and he doesn’t even know he just ugly-cried in front of the author he keeps up with.

“Imagine someone coming up to the front desk to be like: “hi someone stole my bike” or something and they call you over and their resident cop is just red as hell and all slobbery,” you joke.

“Shut up! I’ll try not to cry, I’m going to build immunity,” he half-jokes before taking another gulp of water.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You lay awake at night, staring into the dark nothingness of your room. Your feelings are all convoluted– joy, fear, embarrassment, amusement, excitement– and it’s hard to pinpoint what is ruling over you. Finding out that the man whom you’ve been hinting your feelings for is obsessed with your writing? In complete adoration with the products of your mind and skill? Hopefully he doesn’t suss out on your more romantic and sappy fics, inspired by real-life events you experienced with him (with more romantic and glittery bits). It doesn’t take even a minute to decide that you’ll be keeping this secret from him in order to not make anything weird between you two. Leon already seemed embarrassed after having been caught sobbing like that by a mere set of pixels on screen so you decided that this would be best for both of you. Unable to sleep due to the combined combination of boba tea and adrenaline, you sit up and reach for your phone because reading a fic or two before bed doesn’t hurt, right?

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s been a few days after the little “incident” and Leon’s been more open with showing you some fics he enjoys, occasionally giving his own reviews and recommendations for you. He’s still the same guy that keyboards smashes on your comments and on his reblogs, which makes you giggle since you know who’s been sending you that. He finally came home from a long day of work only to do some more work outside of office hours, catching up on reports that some absent cops left behind and was handed over to him. Making himself a cup of coffee, he stretches his arms and hands before typing away on his dingy laptop for the next 3 hours. A few hours later, you hear some giggling coming from him so you bring your head up and spot his head once again buried in his hand, ears red but from giggling this time. He swings his legs, accidentally nudging the leg of a chair so he yelps a bit, which tugs a little chuckle from you. His ears pick up on the jolly noise coming from you, his face glowing when he sees you smile (or are you just seeing things?). He asks for you to come over to him and points at something on the screen of his laptop.

“Thought you wanted uninterrupted time for work,” you ask.

“I’m on a break, I think I deserve it,” he confidently says. “Anyways, take a look at this. Starting from here until here.”

You expected that you’d see another fic of yours but it was from another account’s instead, which disappointed you a slight bit but not that you minded too much. You finished reading the lines, the corners of your lips tugged skyward with a subtle splash of baby pink tinting your cheeks.

“Damn, that’s sweet,” you comment. “Gosh, I want what they have.”

“Me too. Like, hey God I’m still here ya know! I’ve seen what you’ve done for others!” Leon adds on.

Um, hey Leon! I’m literally right here! Do you need glasses? I’m right beside you!

Since you two were having a nice moment sharing fics and fic lines, you decided to show Leon some lines from fics you love.

“Take a look at this one,” you say as you hand him your iPad. “His description of her had me clawing at walls and biting my fist.”

Leon takes the gadget from your hands with care and places them beside his laptop, reading the lines. He reads in silence and it appears that he’s going over the line again and again.

“Who wrote this?” he asks.

“Uh, scottfree.”

“I don’t think I’m getting out of this scot-free,” Leon jokes. “Pun intended.”

“And why is that…?”

“Because I wrote that.”

You look at him in confusion, two neurons in your brain making a very, very, very slow connection in this moment.

“You’re scottfree?! And also BiohazardBard?!,” you exclaim. So he’s also scottfree, the writer whose lines you’ve screenshotted takes up about a third of all images on your phone. Amazing.

“How do you know I’m BiohazardBard?!?!,” he exclaims even louder as he gets up from his seat.

“Because um– the fic you cried over some days ago is mine! And I saw your account name and profile and I found out that you’re one of my loyal readers!”

He looks like he’s ready to wither away into nothing, become dust and probably get sucked in a vacuum cleaner.

“God that’s embarrassing,” he quietly mumbles. “Tell me: is that fic the first fic you’ve read from me? My other account, I mean– the one where I post fics.”

“Scottfree? Um, no… I’ve read like– quite a lot, actually.”

He stares blankly at you, unsure on how to absorb the information dumped on him. He’s only got a half-asleep half of a brain cell now since the rest of them were allocated on getting those papers done with the other half of the remaining brain cell, which he thinks is now gone.

“While we’re at this, um. You must know that the descriptions I write for the love interests are usually what I wished I could say to you or how I’d describe you. When he’s telling her how magical it is to be around her presence? I’ve daydreamed one too many times about really saying that you,” he quietly confides in you. “If I want to write another story, I hope I could write it alongside you.”

They really weren’t playing with slow-burn romance where both of them are too shy to confess their feelings. It’s happening to me right now! I’m in the confession part of the story!

“I guess it’s a writer thing for writers to include parts of someone they like in their works because I did the same thing for my works, actually. If I wanna come up with a real sweet line, I just think about you and I wish that I’d say these to you. Maybe I’ll wish that whatever I write the love interest to say, I’ll hear you say them to me too and uh… manifesting is real I guess, I dunno,” you awkwardly laugh. “Guess the feeling’s mutual, huh.”

“Yeah. Wow, this is… this is amazing. Real amazing,” Leon softly says.

“Mhm.”

“So…”

“So… what now…?”

“I guess this makes as mutuals in terms of accounts and feelings," the blond grins.

NOTE - Once again, thank you to the lovely 310 people who decided to follow me and keep up with whatever I post :)) I first came up with this while I was washing my cats' bowls and I intended for it to be a drabble but I just decided to make it a fic in the end. Still working on other reqs rn so expect some more posts in the coming days <33 If your usernames are somehow the same as the usernames that I made up for this fic then I didn't mean that and it's just a coincidence 😭🙏 Also y'all gotta hear me out on Francis Mosses from That's Not My Neighbor, he's cute :3 Judging from my mlist, I'm not sure if I love RE2R Leon hmm I'm not too sure 🤔 Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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jiminjamms · 1 year

Text

sex therapy :: 16. liar, liar

chapter tags/warnings: infidelity/adultery...lots of it. multiple partners mean many fluids in the action. mentions of rough sex. mentions of breeding. guilt-driven sex. nonconsensual acts. manipulative undertones. humiliation. strong language. classism.

word count: 4.0k

notes: thank you for the comments i've received about my graduation and for your patience in this update! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Eleven missed calls.

All of which came from your husband.

With your phone placed away, you had not realized this deluge of notifications until Choso dropped you off at your apartment lobby.

“Bastard still thinks you’re his good lil’ wife,” Choso snickered when he peered over your shoulder, scanning the messages as well.

Driven by post-coital bliss, his mood had improved dramatically on the drive back, and he grinned stupidly beside you. At some point, you had to push his smug face away so that he would stop gloating over the words on your screen.

Where the fuck did you go? I’m still at the restaurant looking for you, one of Naoya’s bitter texts read followed by another sent twenty minutes later: I’m already home now, goddamnit.

Oh, the dread.

The raw dread that filled you, knowing that you had a husband waiting for you at home. A dream for many, yet a curse for you...which was why once Choso bid you goodbye, this awful trepidation only intensified now that you were once again nothing but alone.

The long elevator ride up to the penthouse didn't help either, your anxiety consuming you as the numbers on the floor display ticked higher. Sometime before the elevator reached the twentieth story, you caught sight of your reflection in the mirrored walls.

Wow, with this new wild hairdo, you looked like a tornado survivor.

Oh, but before Naoya saw you, there was something else you should be more concerned about.

You stumbled towards your closest reflection, your breaths coming to a stop as you slowly—very slowly—peeled up your dress.

“Please...no,” you silently prayed but nothing could stop the gasp at your lips once the hem was pulled past your hipbone, revealing the purple bruises on your outer thighs and the prominent swelling at your ass.

“Oh my,” you winced when you ran a finger over one particular welt.

Naoya must never get a glimpse of this.

Shame burned at your face, which had marks of their own.

To justify this most recent escapade, you convinced yourself that this was what Naoya deserved after his hurtful words during dinner. Furthermore, if what the therapists said was true—if Naoya was truly cheating on you—you definitely merited rights to your own (reverse) harem, right? An eye for an eye.

Okay, there were faults in this logic, but you must suspend beliefs if you hoped to feel better about yourself.

When a telling ding signaled your arrival at the sixtieth-second floor, you scrambled, pulling your dress over the blemishes and patting down some stubborn baby hairs. Once the elevator doors parted, you paced briskly to the penthouse entrance, the unit’s usual jasmine scent greeting you followed by the overhead lights that flickered on.

You thought that you were the only one in the apartment until you spotted Naoya in the living room. He had a long day, but he was awake rather than asleep, sunken into the sofa. From the back, he appeared bored, shuffling idly through different channels on TV.

“I’ve returned,” you announced unceremoniously, slipping off your heels.

When your husband turned to look over his shoulder, you half-expected him to erupt in fury—to degrade you, to command you, to do everything to emotionally hurt you until he pleased himself using you. After all, that was the typical response that you had grown accustomed to.

In fact, Naoya almost seemed to have ignored you had it not been for how he stood up from his seat, revealing the tall silhouette that blended with the cityscape background behind him. Hands tucked into his pockets, he strode languidly toward you on long legs and silent steps until he stopped a mere foot away.

“What’s that?” he inquired about the shopping bag you just placed down. He peered inside and surely recognized the dress that Choso had so graciously returned. “Had you gone somewhere?”

“Picked this up from the dry cleaner,” you babbled only to immediately wish that you hadn’t. This was an awful fabrication that was formulated from impulsivity rather than wit, confirmed by how Naoya narrowed his eyes.

“I see,” Naoya hummed in acceptance, likely trying to understand why you decided to make a spontaneous nighttime trip to the dry cleaner when you were supposed to be on a dinner date with him. Then, he added very casually, “You didn’t respond to my texts, by the way.”

Neither did you, you wanted to retort. When he had vanished into thin air these past few days, did he bother to look at the many messages that you sent him? Of course not. Rather than stir a commotion, you merely uttered, “Sorry.”

“Just don’t do that again,” he advised. For a moment, he glanced to the side—almost like he was about to burst from frustration—before he calmly said, “I was worried about you.”

Now this you were not expecting.

Your chest even fluttered given that your husband rarely voiced his concern for you. Had you responded to his texts, would he ever tell you something like that?

His mood was pleasant—far too pleasant because this was Naoya Zenin in the question, a self-absorbed husband whose indecent wife missed each of his eleven calls because she was too busy getting her pussy stretched (but he didn’t need to know that last point, right?).

On that note, guilt tugged hard at your stomach.

While you had planned to confront Naoya about his potential infidelity, the idea suddenly seemed too out of place, and you were ashamed that you doubted faithfulness at all.

That was when you reminded yourself: Naoya would always be the endgame. The fuck session earlier tonight was only to get your mind off the husband that you were hung up on. Naoya was who you truly wanted in the end. The fresh change with Choso—you justified—was to lift your mood, so you could forgive Naoya for his earlier insults.

Nonetheless, this guilt was much too heavy to swallow.

This wretched feeling only intensified as Naoya closed the distance, gently leaning over to seal your lips closed. I’ve missed you, his kiss seemed to say.

Earlier tonight, he might have confessed how his intention with you was purely sexual, a statement that trampled on your already aching heart. But, in the end, Naoya was whom you were expected to spend the rest of your days with.

You gripped onto his shirt as his lips traveled to your jaw, the quiet smacks ringing softly in your ears before you felt him kiss the side of your neck, and his warm exhale excited a slight shudder down your spine.

Whether his actions were driven by emotion or duty, you didn’t know. But what you did know was how much you wanted to give yourself in to him, to sink into the arms that encircled your waist, to let him caress and then use you—all in an attempt to relieve you from your sins.

If only life was that simple.

“This smell,” Naoya murmured, lips vibrating against your collarbone as he spoke, “comes from another man.”

Your blood turned cold.

“...What?”

Caught completely off-guard, you could feel your sympathetic nervous system kicking in, your cold fingertips and widened eyes telltale signs of your fright. Before Naoya could look downward, you pulled at your dress to hide the bruises by your thighs, which would be a surefire giveaway to the dirty deed you had done earlier. However, you were not thinking, perhaps downright possessed even, when you tried to save yourself by adding, “That isn’t what you think it is.”

Although Naoya was still by your neck, even you could see how he cocked a brow at the comment.

“’That?’” he repeated, then pausing briefly. As his confusion waned into dubiety, he straightened up slowly and loomed over you. “That what?”

Oh, no—

“That what?” Naoya said again, except his tone this time around could cut like a sharpened blade. His face deepened and darkened for every second that passed, his expression souring into a frown with furrowed brows. Even his lips tugged between a smile and a jeer as if he seemed tied between derision and disbelief. He certainly made his mind, though, when he caught your hand shielding a certain bruise. “What...are you hiding?”

That was when panic swallowed you whole.

“Nothing. It’s just...I didn’t mean to—” Terror locked words in your throat, but you certainly made the wrong move when you blurted, “I had told him not to—“

“Him?”

Oh, now you really aroused Naoya’s curiosity, not to mention that he looked furious because why should he ever love a wife unfaithful to him?

“No!” you shouted when Naoya tore your arm towards him. Efforts to free yourself quickly proved futile given his firm clasp. Rather, Naoya first stared at your hand, studying the cuts across your palm before his gaze trailed down to the much more obvious marks on your thighs and knees.

For several silent moments, he appeared deep in thought...pondering and pondering...his flat expression too difficult to read. Only when the seconds turned into a full minute did Naoya cautiously loosen his grasp around your wrist, releasing you from captivity.

Relief swelled over your system because you assumed you were safe, that Naoya was actually a more forgiving husband than you had originally given him credit for. You even backed away from him knowing that you were now liberated from his scrutiny.

Until your husband very calmly added, “Seems like I’ve missed out on something exciting.”

You froze.

For a man red hot with anger mere minutes ago, Naoya was now so amused that you found his change in tone too eerie, his expression so stern that you must promptly avert your gaze to the hardwood floor.

“I...don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vainly, you tried to play down the weight of the matter. “Just headed out for a bit. Nothing for you to be concerned with.”

“Oh really?” The inflection in Naoya’s pitch was incredibly insulting and incredulous. “To the dry cleaners? Or don’t tell me that my beloved wifey lied to me because she had actually gone somewhere else? Because you sure were desperate to cover up for something that ‘wasn’t anything important.’”

Fuck.

“I—” A gulp.

Naoya did not need long to notice the backward shuffles in your steps. He followed you, stalking forward like a mountain lion closing in his pathetic prey. Ideally, you would like to tell him to stop, that you could barely think with him at such proximity, but the potential consequences of telling him off seemed too dangerous.

“Well, tell me,” he urged. With one last step, he cornered you such that your back pressed against the wall, his hands planted on either side of your head. He exhaled deeply, and remnants of his tequila whirled in the little space between you two. “Did my dear Mrs. Zenin have a lot of fun?”

Your mouth grew dry at the question, and you remained keen to drill your eyes into the ground.

“I...” You bit your inner cheek, remembering the tears that had rolled off embarrassingly from your face. “I...wouldn’t exactly call that fun.”

“Aw, not fun?” Naoya cooed and curled one finger around a loose lock of your hair. “Why not, darling? All because my baby’s got some booboos? What do you want me to do, hm? Want me to crawl onto my knees to kiss the bruises that another man gave?”

“N-No.”

He contemplated the answer, looking lost in thought as he twirled your tresses. “Then how far did you get with this lucky guy?”

At the confrontation, it took all your willpower to not crumble like potted soil turned dry. Wracked with humiliation, you decided to ignore the question, thinking that that was the safer option until your husband tugged your strands gently.

"Hey.” There was a spark of a raspy growl in his voice. Understandably, he was irritated, and you didn’t blame him for being impatient when he warned lowly, "Don't make me repeat myself."

You swallowed one hard lump.

“We didn’t go far at all.” A lie through your goddamn teeth. Yet, you had to say something if you ever hoped for him to let you off the hook, especially when—

“Ow!” you groaned at the forceful yank at your hair. Instinctively, your hands flew to your scalp and rubbed at where the sting burned the most. “The hell was that for?!”

“I just want you to tell me the truth,” Naoya advised coolly, which implied that he already had some idea what this ‘truth’ was. Whether or not he did, you could feel how he was dangerously toying with your strands again, ready to teach you another lesson if you disobeyed. “C’mon,” he challenged. “Test me. Who would have thought that my wife would have this much trouble being honest with—"

“We fucked over his car...”

The room went instantly silent as your words sunk in, the only sounds being your uneven breaths that were a by-product of your horror.

Did you really just say that?

Though you have yet to meet his gaze, you hated how your stomach churned with uneasiness, only exacerbated by Naoya’s overbearing presence beside you.

“Over his car?” Naoya quoted, his interest piqued. “As in, the car hood?”

For a long moment, you considered how to answer in the most diplomatic manner until your eyes slipped closed and you finally said, “...Yes.”

“And did you like it?”

“N-No.”

A gentle tug. “I can tell when you lie,” and by now, you could tell that he truly meant it. “Try me again, and I’ll—"

“I...loved it.”

You thought that Naoya Zenin finally derived the satisfaction that he wanted when his fingers ultimately loosened from your locks, only for these hopes to prove naïve when his dark chuckles rumbled from above. What started as a small snicker soon unraveled into a taunting laugh—an impassionate uproar—as your husband threw his head back, cackling wickedly into the air.

You were too absorbed in disgrace that you didn’t even notice Naoya approach you again, his right hand moving to grab your face. And when he finally forced you to turn to him, you see that his hazel eyes are ablaze with an unscrupulous sort of entertainment, tears from laughter pricking at his outer corners.

“Oh, ho ho!” he mused. His strong clutch on your jaw allowed him to revel in your distress, squandering your opportunities to look at anything else but him. “This is fucking hilarious! To think that everyone thought that Miss Prim-and-Proper over here is a good sweet girl when she’s been a slut all along.”

Naoya chuckled as his eyes crinkled with mirth, and you squirmed uncomfortably in his hold.

Rather than humiliation, your heart began to fill with chagrin.

Why was your very husband the only person who would intentionally work up so much frustration in you?

Ironically, the timing in this realization could not be more perfect as Naoya brought his face all up in yours.

“This wasn’t the first time, wasn’t it?”

Obviously, your first inclination is to lie, but you second guess yourself when you think back to his previous warning: I can tell when you lie.

“Not the first time,” you breathed slowly, and the rumbles in his laughter were wholly off-putting.

“So, did you spit or swallow tonight, you little whore? Well, you seem more like a spitter, you quitter. Unless...” He then covered his mouth for theatric effect. “Don’t tell me he came inside of you?!” he crowed and reveled in the glare you sent. “Bingo! He did, didn’t he? He came deep inside my wife, and I’m sure you loved that too!” At this point, Naoya was guffawing like a maniac on the ground, bent over to hug at his stomach. “I’m guessing you creamed all over his cock too! Boy, oh boy. What would your daddy say when he learns that his little girl’s been frisky? Oh, oh! Even better! What would the papers say when a little birdie informs them about your tiny secret?”

“Or about yours.”

Naoya’s laughter, which had bellowed through the penthouse just moments ago, immediately dissipated at the comment.

Your husband crawled up from the floor. He half-stumbled on his way up and met your deterministic gaze.

This, so far, was the bravest you have ever been. Never have you dared to even think about confronting Naoya. Yet here you were now. Even if you trembled with nervousness—his frame towering many centimeters above yours—you did your best to be the one staring him down instead.

While you expected repulsion, Naoya just stared pointedly at you.

“How did you know?”

Strangely enough, his unflappable composure was what upset you the most. He was calm and collected, so unperturbed such that he didn’t even bother to deny the accusation. Because compared to you, Naoya probably did not feel guilty in the slightest, instead viewing your awareness as nothing more than an inconvenience.

“So, the cheating rumors are true then,” you breathed, and when your husband nodded so nonchalantly, there should be no reason for you to experience a heartache that you knew wasn’t worth the pain.

Besides, you should have been prepared for this. The signs were so blatant and obvious: his ridicule, his actions, and his contempt all presages that pointed towards an underlying reason behind his behavior. For crying out loud, even your therapists, who probably never witnessed a second of interaction between you and your husband, were the first to suggest the idea of Naoya’s infidelity.

And like a fool, you had rushed to defend your husband.

But why were you so obsessed with upholding a failed marriage when your husband could barely care to do the same? Why were you so desperate to salvage any possibility of amending the bond between husband and wife when your other half could not care for the same? The entire reason you sought sex therapy was that you valued this marriage more than anything else, hoping to forge a physical connection with your husband that lied beyond obligation.

But were you really that disillusioned?

The shame that had churned within your chest had given way to pain as you eked out, “How long has this been going on?”

“Almost a year.”

In other words, well before he tied the knot with you.

You appreciated his honesty, but the truth did not stab any less into your heaving chest.

No wonder Naoya had always been callous, ruthless even. From day one, he never belonged to you. In this marriage, his heart, his soul, and his every waking second had always been dedicated to someone else while you foolishly clung on to hope that he would one day warm up.

“Then...why didn’t you just marry her?”

“Look,” Naoya started, only to pause as a thousand emotions flashed across his face, reaching to massage his temples before he lost total control of his temper. “Things are complicated, okay? Listing all the reasons would take an entire damn day because there’s a fucking million of them.”

“Just tell me what they are.”

“Goddamnit, woman!” Naoya shouted, thrusting his arm down in exasperation and startling you. “Since when can you order me around?! Can’t your tiny ass idiot brain tell that I’m not in the fucking mood right now to talk about this shit?”

“But you’re going to keep seeing her?”

“Yes!” and his response was so curt that there was undoubtedly no regard for your feelings in his reply. There was so much more to know, but negotiating with him for details was fruitless given his current mood.

“You’re not worried that I’ll tell someone about this?”

“Well, you won’t,” Naoya accosted with crossed arms and the most unbothered shrug. “Because you know what’s going to happen if you tattle tale, right?”

You sucked in a deep breath.

I would just tattle tale too, the glint in his eyes answered, and nothing could stop him then. The knowledge of your affair had emboldened him and provided him with justification to do the same, especially since he could now laud all this over your head like some twisted trophy.

“Look, it’s fair and square,” he justified. “We’re even now. Frankly, I don’t care and won’t care to know about your business so long as you don’t mess with mine. Do us both a favor, alright? Keep that loudmouth of yours shut, and I might just do the same. Our families spent much effort to secure this ‘picture-perfect’ relationship in Japan, so we wouldn’t them finding out about our part-time flings, now would we?”

The worst bit was how Naoya was correct.

Because you thought about your father-in-law, who would harbor no qualms about cutting you from Japan’s most affluent family for good. You also thought about Mai and Maki, the Zenin twins who would be heartbroken to learn how Naoya had been mistreating you all along when you had previously told the girls that he wasn’t. And most importantly, you thought about your father, who would resign from his position to support your decisions, no matter how grave.

If disclosed, news regarding the scandals—both yours and your husband’s—would bear headlines for weeks, and the two households would certainly then fall out from bad publicity.

As a result, there was only one answer.

“No, we wouldn’t them to know.”

“Then, you’re not going to snitch?”

“No, I won’t...” you trailed off, and—from the corner of your eye—you could see Naoya grin with victory.

The differences between you and Naoya may be irreconcilable, yet there still existed a silent but mutual goal to not disappoint each other’s families. While the thought of being second place in Naoya’s heart could tear through your own, you staved this emptiness away by justifying this as a small price to pay, given that thousands could at most dream about being in your place.

“So, you’re a well-behaved woman after all,” Naoya hummed happily, resting one arm suggestively on your hip. “What a good wife.”

A good wife—the main reason Naobito Zenin wanted his son to marry you to begin with. As a ‘good wife,’ you were expected to love your husband, respect him, and provide for him. Real love may not ever exist in your marriage, but you were still obliged to fulfill your duties as his lawful spouse.

So, when your husband carried you into the bedroom and brought you to bed, when he stripped you carefully from your clothes and squeezed at your breasts, you willingly let him turn you into his filthy fuck toy.

“On your back,” Naoya whispered at some point, pushing your shoulders back such that you landed on the mattress with a soft thud.

His gaze darkened salaciously upon inspecting all the crescents and markings on your ass, right before he pressed his lips onto your skin just to confess how he might actually like sloppy seconds like you.

He wished to take you in missionary as usual. What surprised you, however, was how he encouraged you to keep your legs closed this time, an idea he never proposed before. With an order that resembled more like a purr, he urged you to cross your ankles, explaining that this would allow you to squeeze his cock with both your vaginal and pelvic floor muscles, which would make him come faster. And when he started working into your insides—fucking used cum back into your tight little hole—his hand grazed along your bruises, causing you to hiss and squirm.

For a guy who pounded into your skull that he had no interest in you beyond sexual, Naoya sure knew how to make you feel every bit like the stupid breeding cumslut you wanted to be. That was perfect since you believed that the only way to be useful was to let him use you as he wanted, without thought for your own satisfaction.

As long as this marriage prevailed, he was yours, and you were his.

From here, there was no way out.

Or so you thought.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This chapter is a rollercoaster and has been incredibly difficult for me to write, largely due to the various emotions I had to convey from both Y/N and Naoya. Pissed-off Naoya is one of my favorite dialogues to write, but I also enjoyed propelling Y/N's emerging confidence in confronting her husband.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @pulchritxde-blog @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @nemoyr @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Note

Can I request 13 for lo’ak tyy 💕💕

FOR ME?

some cutie fluff with lo'ak!!! hope u like it!!

Lo’ak had been feeling down lately. Always getting in trouble with his father, his thoughts consuming him as he went about his days. His only times when he felt truly at peace was when you were around.

You decided it was time to do something nice for Lo’ak, to show how much you truly cared for him. It took you a couple days to set it up with both of your busy schedules, but you were determined.

In one of the tall trees of your beautiful forest you had carried out blankets and baskets of his favourite fruit so you could stargaze at night. The hardest thing was hauling everything up meters into the air. But nothing could stop you, you were going to do this for him.

As dusk called your names you made your way towards where Lo’ak was sharpening his knife. “Lo’ak!” His ears perked up at the sound of your voice, immediately putting his knife away as his undivided attention fell on you.

“Y/N!” He made his way towards yours, a small smile on his face. “What you been up to bro?” You grimaced when he called you that, you didn’t want to be his bro. He noticed your expression as he laughed patting your head. “I’m sorry, let me start over. What have you been up to princess?”

The way he said in such a sarcastic tone sent shivers at your spine. His cheeky sneer, watching the way a blush crept up to your cheeks. Eywa you were the cutest thing to walk this planet.

“I have a surprise for you.” Lo’ak formed a quizzical brow, squinting his eyes as he begged you to explain more silently. “You’ll have to follow me.”

Lo’ak sighed, “What if it’s a trap?” You gave him a look that basically said ‘are you stupid?’

“What would I trap you to do you skxwang?” He opened his mouth to say something confidently, only to then close it back up when he had nothing to retaliate with. “Mhm thought so, now hurry!” You grabbed his wrist and tugged him all the way towards the tall tree where your surprise resided.

“Where in the world are you taking me?” You hushed him as you stopped in front of your tree. “A tree? Bruh.”

“Lo’ak shut up for one second would you.” He chuckled giving you a pinch to your waist.

“Of course I will baby.” You glared at him as the nickname rolled off his tongue. Oh how his words tickled your heart.

“Come we climb!” you hopped from branch to branch, Lo’ak following in suit. It was not a long climb to reach the top, overseeing the large forest.

Lo’ak paused as he reached the top looking at what you had set up for him. He felt his heart swell, oh you were the most precious thing in the world. Eywa, he loved you. “You did this for me?” Lo’ak looked to you with a bright smile as you nodded happily, rocking on the balls of your feet.

“Mhm, I have blankets in case it gets windy! And I brought some of your favourite fruits to snack on. In case you get hungry.” Lo’ak walked closer to you, engulfing you in a tight embrace, squishing his face onto the top of your head, leaving a kiss.

“This is amazing Y/N, Eywa I love you.” At that moment he froze, you froze, everything was still. Love? That was a strong word.

“Love?”

“Shit..fuck…I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you.” His face was burning as his heart may as well been doing laps around his ribs. He looked at you waiting for you to say something, begging you to say something.

“I love you too.”

tags: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @lixiesbrowniess

thanku for reading!! reblogs are super duper appreciated

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heretherebedork · 5 months

Text

To The Last Year...

Well, we went from Absolute Zero to Beyond The Stars this year but that's not to say we aren't in the House of Stars where I Feel You Linger In The Air. We all said Be My Favorite because I'm a Cutie Pie 2 You and want a Dangerous Romance and a chance to Hit Bite Love in our Individual Circumstances while being a Destiny Seeker and Crazy Handsome Rich (we wish). Some people took the chance to Bump Up Business or make a Bed Friend or be Naughty Babe or be Only Friends or even the chance to Sing My Crush and Stay By My Side or even just Stay Still while we took the year Step By Step. But now it's time to look to the Future and say Be Mine Superstar while letting go of our Hidden Agenda and looking for A Shoulder To Cry On and a Happy Merry Ending. We followed all the Laws of Attraction and rode on the Love Tractor and took Love Class (2) and discovered Love In Translation on the way. The Promise that we made over Our Dating Sim left us Star Struck for My Personal Weatherman on The Day I Love You. Everything set off The Eighth Sense while we ate Moonlight Chicken and saw Venus in the Sky when we looked up. We shared Our Dining Table and said Bake Me Please when we felt A Breeze of Love and called out Bon Appetit with the occasional Naked Dining. Some people tried All The Liquors to go with our stories while others just listened to Low Frequency and visited the Midnight Museum or went to Home School with My Dear Gangster Oppa. There was a Tokyo in April as there always is and someone told Our Story (very badly) but we embraced the Dinosaur Love and tied up our Chains of Heart for out One Room Angel. We drank The Luminous Solution and discovered The Middleman's Love. A lot of people said Oh No! Here Comes Trouble and were right but winter kind of forgot about Jack o' Frost this year. There were so many kinds of Love Mate and Fake Love and Friends Forever. But, in the end, I just want to say to everyone here who has ever enjoyed my meta or gifs or jokes... You Are Mine but also Why R U? and feel free to make Wedding Plans but I'll only show up for the food. You might want to Tie The Knot but I've still got Love Syndrome III and there is no cure, not even a Marry Go Round. Just don't say I Cannot Reach You, instead say If It's With You. So cheer Tim Tem Jai and reach out to grab A Boss and A Babe for the party and let's make A Story To Remember again this year! We'll Jun & Jun to our destination and leave behind the Past-senger. And remember you're Kiseki: Dear To Me on every level and this is My Beautiful Man: Eternal on here.

(It's not yet 7 Days Before Valentine but the Cherry Magic is real and we've all got a Cooking Crush or at least a Night Dream and probably even a Last Twilight and we all see The Sign and VIP Only section with our Cooking Crush because we do it For Him, he's the center of My Universe and the best Pit Babe who's ready to be a Playboyy because I Became the Lead In a BL Drama so I could impressed Mr. Sahara and Toki-Kun.)

Anyway, it's been an amazing year of QL with all of you and I love every single tag, cheer, reblog, like and comment and every last one of you. Here's to many more (QLs and years)! You're all amazing people and you made it to the end of 2023!

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ackermonie · 2 years

Text

like a hot dad

content: nsfw, long haired levi, breeding kink, daddy/mommy kink if u squint, dilf levi, post war canon

warnings: +18 content, mild manga spoilers, f!bodied reader.

wc: 1.5k~

tags: @motherfckerrr bc they commented ehe

a/n: i genuinely had no idea where this was going i just kept writing and somehow ended up with being h word for dilf long haired levi and idk how to take it back tysm

also pls reblog if u can!! i’m tryna gain back my old followers from my previous blog due to shadowban, so spreading the word could def help!! tysm either way<3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

do you think levi would grow his hair out post-war?

idk mahn but the vision of him with a short wolf-ish is really getting to me.

i feel like maybe he’d let it grow accidentally. with the healing process for his knee and the rest of his wounds i feel like he wouldn’t really care about his hair, and you’re totally in for it.

it’s a huge change. for years, you’re used to levi’s neat hair and infamous undercut, and you were 100% into it. but now as he finally lets you cut his hair for him instead of doing it himself, you kinda slowly fix it in a wolf cut and let it grow gradually.

you’d come up with excuses every time he asks you to cut his hair.

“i have so much to do around the house today, my love. maybe tomorrow?”

“oh, i’m on my period today. i can barely stand up.”

“oh! i forgot i have to go get stuff from the market! i’ll be meeting gabi and falco, i can’t be late, can i?”

once he gets frustrated with you, the raven silk was already down to his nape. it shaped his face beautifully, and once you caught him with a pair of scissors in the bathroom, your soul left your body.

“WAIT!” you dash to him, holding down the armed left hand. “you’re not left handed! you wanna ruin your hair??”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes at you. “you’ve been putting me off for months. look how long it’s gotten!” he gestures with a hand to the mirror in front of you two. “i look hideous.”

you slip the scissors from his hands, and levi catches the little sly smile that slips on your face as you squeeze yourself between his body and the sink.

you watch the realization fall on his face while your hands slip in his hair.

“is this what i get for letting my guard down around you?”

“you look beautiful,” you tell him, love struck as you are, never missing the pink dust that rushes to his cheeks “everyone compliments you for it. you still wanna cut it off again?”

“i don’t give a shit about anyone else.” he grumbles and looks down between you both, leaning on his cane. “i don’t look representable.”

“you don’t have to look representable,” your tone lowers in sincerity. a thumb grazes the scar on the right side of his face. “you’re not a captain anymore, my love. you’re free to do whatever your heart pleases.”

he looks up at you, features blank, but you know well how your words are tossing and turning in his brain.

“besides,” your smile returns back to your face, and you pull him a little closer. “you look extremely hot.” a hand trails down to the hem of his shirt, your eyes following the movement, then you return your gaze back up to him. “like a hot dad.”

his eyebrows shoot up, playfulness making an appearance on the previous stoic features. “like a hot dad?”

“mmhm,” you affirm with a mock-nonchalant nod, and you slip away from him jjjuuust when he was about to pull you in. you look at him over your shoulder, mischief pure in your gaze. “i’ll go check on dinner for the guests coming tonight. feel free to join.”

only except that ten minutes later, the kitchen is completely empty and you two didn’t manage to make it past the living room. he was seated on the sofa, head throw back with his fucking hair framing his delicious expression like that, you swear you could cum untouched in your position between his legs as you get to work.

“like a hot dad, huh?” he mumbles, all breathless and shit once you were seated in his lap, his length stretching you perfectly. a hand reaches up to wipe away the remaining of his previous climax on the corner of your lips. you throw your head in the crook of his neck, the pleasure of your hips rolling skillfully against his hitting you bad. “you could’ve just asked, lovely. wanna make me a daddy?”

you manage a shaky nod when he begins to meet your hips halfway.

a hand trails up from your waist to garb your neck, squeezing deliciously as he pulls you away from his neck to take a good look at you. “words, my love.”

“yes,” you nod, eyes closed in bliss. one of your hands grab the wrist of the hand around your neck. “wan’ make y-you a…hhah… daddy.”

“fffuuck…” he groans out when you squeeze around him, letting himself gather enough strength before he throws you off of him and onto the sofa. when your thighs are squeezed together at the painful loss of contact, a palm falls on one of them, leaving a flushed mark in its wake.

“open wide, baby.” he grabs a hold of his cock while he holds the back of your opening thigh to keep the pair apart. the years upon years in the survey corps leave you as flexible as you can be, so when he presses your thigh back, your joints bend easily at his will. pumping himself a few times as he gazes at your glistening folds, another groan breaks out from deep in his chest.

“god, look at you.” he rolls his hips in, and you feel him slip through so pleasurably that you can’t hold back the loud whimper that escapes you.

because damn, how could you not from this view? this is a face of a determined, pussy-drunk man. sweat broke on his forehead, a few strands sticking to the skin while the rest of his hair falls around his face perfectly. you see a ting of pain on his features, and you scatter to try to change your position for a more comfortable one for him, but he is quickly pushing you back down to the couch, a hand falling to your lower abdomen.

the pressure he puts there makes you forget your own name, and it shows on the way your body shivers with bliss. his thrusts increase in velocity, the maddening roll of his hips against yours throwing you in a whole other dimension.

a hand reaches out to grab yours, and through the dizzying pleasure, you realize that levi is pressing your own hand to your abdomen underneath his.

“look how deep inside am i,” he grumbles, leaning down to press a kiss on your bouncing tits. you feel his length stroke in and out of you the more levi puts pressure on your hand. “taking me so well. always so well, baby.”

he takes control of your hand once more, feeling you squeeze familiarly around him, and he pushes your fingers through his hair. you yank on the strands immediately, pulling out a fucking growl out of the man as he leans down until your chests were touching, putting a bit of his body weight on you for support.

you latch onto him like a koala, the burn of your core muscles stretching as he pushes you in a mating press mixes well with your pleasure-high brain. levi kisses, licks, bites down on your neck to leave marks you’ll have trouble hiding later, but you don’t give a shit. you arch your neck more, letting out a long moan when he nips at a certain spot, the bliss turning you mad.

levi is breathless. his puffs of air fan your face when he brings his face on top of yours. a whimper escapes past his lips, his features twisted with pleasure uncontrollably, and you drown in the sounds he makes.

“wann’ make you a mommy too,” he mumbles, open lips landing on the corner of your lips. “wanna…hhah… fill you up. over,” he pauses, delivering an especially harsh thrust that you feel at your cervix. “and over again.”

“levi, i’m so—,”

your body begins to curl into him, eyes closing uncontrollably, and the poor man barely has any chance to ready himself for the way you tighten impossibly around him as you give him your first climax.

your body shivers and quivers, shaking as he overstimulates you chasing after his own pleasure. he leans back up, hands harshly grabbing your lips as he manages to pull you even deeper, and you tightness milk him.

it isn’t the first time he cums inside you, but this one sure hits different. after a few more thrusts that manage to abuse your cervix, levi stills stiffly with a strong groan, and you feel his warmth coat your walls .

he gives you a few more deep strokes as he leans down to kiss you deeply, making sure he fucks all his load deep enough.

his hips still once more, but you keep devouring his lips. weak moans are erupted from both of you as you two calm down gradually, before levi throws sway your attempts of calming down your still-raging arousal when he pulls away, leans up, and slowly pulls out of you.

and he watches the mixture of both your orgasams begin to pool out of you, and you watch as he takes two fingers to push everything back in. you shamelessly roll your hips against bis digits once more.

he looks up at you, fingers still engulfed, snd a smirk takes over his handsome features.

“one more time for good measures?”

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cloginthedrain · 8 months

Text

rooftops and vigilantes (part three) (matt murdock x reader)

summary: matt brings a coffee-deprived reader her drug of choice, and she repays the favor, twice over.

masterlist | previous

word count: 1745

notes: filled to the brim with banter, shameless flirting, and, shocker, more coffee. hope u like this one!!! theres more too come, think of the following chapter as a continuation of this one. :*) a special thanks for all of the kind comments! x

comments and reblogs and tags always appreciated <3

—

“Matty, you’re an absolute angel,” is the first thing you breathe as Matt approaches the door frame, your coffee in one hand and his white cane, folded up, in the other.

He’s wearing his department store suit, the one that makes you antsy.

“Matty,” he chuckles. “That’s a new one.”

“Yup,” you dismiss him, “you wanna come in?”

Still clad in the same sweatpants, Hello Kitty, you thank God he can’t see them, and you move to grab his arm (and your steaming hot coffee) to guide him to your lumpy, secondhand couch, though you knew he didn’t exactly need you. Any excuse to touch him.

Now settled into the couch, you take in the heavenly aroma, holding the warm, very full paper cup to your chest. You take a sip.

Extra bitter, intense, doused in some combination of cream and sugar, the latter being Ellie’s doing, you’re sure of it.

“Damn, a red-eye,” you remark, hand to your heart. “You know me.”

“Well, it seemed dire.”

“It was… is!” you practically yelp in defense.

“Enough to make a blind guy fetch you coffee?”

You almost spit out your drink, finding the comment hysterical. “You keep up Matt Murdock.”

“I have to, with you,” He shrugs, tugs off his red shades. A smile threatens in the corner of his lips, you take notice. You also pay special attention to his pretty brown eyes, a rare sight, always hidden away with his shades.

You’ll take it.

Kicking back, your feet, warm with fuzzy, starry socks, are on the coffee table resting on your legal pad, covered in notes written in smudged, black ink. You hold your coffee even closer to your chest, to wield off some of the butterflies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as if that’ll do much, and make peace with the fact that you really are head over heels for a hot lawyer playing vigilante. You’re never, ever going to live this down.

Breaking the silence, you offer: “So what’s on the agenda for you today, Mr. Murdock?”

“I have the morning off, and then Foggy and I are meeting with a client,” Matt states matter-of-factly. Explains the suit.

“Good,” you say, scheming.

“Uh oh.”

“No ‘uh oh’,” you whine. “I figure I repay your kindness and make us some French toast, I apparently make the best. I maybe have three, four eggs left, should be enough.”

“… I could go for some French toast.”

“Yeah?” you beam. “Alright, come on.” You love to cook, you tug him up, and practically drag him to the kitchen. This time, holding his hand.

You were never tactful with your attempts to woo Matt, why start now. Clearly whatever you’ve been doing is working, because he doesn’t put up a fight. Once you’re in the kitchen, you raid the fridge and pantry for your ingredients.

Once that’s sorted, you resolve to retreat to the living room.

“Here, hold on.”

“Alright.”

Squatting in the living room, you scour your record collection for your favorite record. Folksy, easy listening, and lowered to a comfortable volume, one suitable for a lazy morning. Once that’s spinning, you return to the kitchen.

You carefully crack four eggs in your bowl, pour the rest of your milk in the mixture, cinnamon, a splash of vanilla, and an extra splash for good measure.

“Cinnamony,” Matt observes. He’s over your shoulder. The closeness is welcome.

You imagine too vividly the ghost of his hands on your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment, and take a shaky breath.

With Matt, you had to pace yourself.

“Mhm,” you mumble lamely, preoccupied.

You whisk your mixture with a fork, all too aware of your proximity to Matt, but try to ignore it, and you move to start the stove. After soaking your brioche bread in the mixture, you flip it on the stove till browned, humming quietly to your favorite song on the record.

Once browned, you top your French toasts with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and a light layer of maple syrup, and you wonder if you should’ve also made bacon or maple sausage.

“Alrighty,” you say, setting the plates down.

“Smells great, sweetheart,” He smiles graciously, cutting into his French toast with his fork. “Thank you.”

At this point, his suit jacket is long discarded, white dress shirt sleeves rolled up onto his arms. You were antsy.

“Mhm.”

You make a point to roll your eyes at the name, but you suppose you could get used to it, especially if Matt were the one saying it. You meet his brown, unfocused gaze. Your eyes involuntarily travel along the chiseled outline of his face and are drawn to his slight stubble, perfectly maintained.

You meet his brown, unfocused gaze.

“You’re staring.”

Your eyes dart away, stare at the bundle of fresh baby’s-breath resting against the ridge of the dark blue glass vase, so effortlessly pretty, like Matt, you think to yourself.

Blagh, you’re getting too sappy.

“No, I, uh,” you start, unsure of where you’re going to end. Your mouth has had a mind of its own when it comes to Matt. You’re the furthest thing from tactful.

Matt just waits expectantly, amused. Cheesing. Bastard.

“Oops?” you offer helplessly.

He just laughs and says, “Alright, sweetheart.” And he goes on, digging into his French toast.

—

“Ellie, it’s hopeless,” you whine, muffled, head resting on your folded arms. It’s the next day. “I’m a complete dunce when it comes to Matt Murdock.”

The last of the afternoon’s drip coffee is steaming out of your open cup, empty sugar packets and cream cups neatly discarded on a napkin beside you. You hardly touched your muffin.

Ellie’s flipping chairs onto tables as you sulk in your usual booth, closing up for the day, when she says, “He clearly likes you.”

“You think so?” you look up, eyes twinkling.

“You’re not that dense, Y/N. Come on. The coffee, the incessant flirting. He’s blind, and he’s coming to your apartment, which means he memorized the route. It’s sweet. He’s clearly pursuing you.”

You’re flushed at the thought. “It is kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“That you got a blind guy delivering your lazy ass coffee?” she quips. “You heard of delivery?”

“Hey.”

“I vote that you actually talk to him. He’s a sweet guy who likes you. A lot.”

“El, I don’t know about that.”

Ellie gives you a stern look.

“Fine, I’ll try.”

—

“I’m seeking legal representation,” you say later that day, a man of your word. You would talk to him. You make your way further into the conference room, across the big table and Matt is surrounded by stacks of documents.

Your hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, layers now wild, wiry, and free, front pieces framing your face effortlessly. You’re wearing your dark wash overalls, with embroidered floral details, and a flimsy excuse for a tank top. Your canvas bag weighs you down, shoulders lopsided.

You’re holding two drip coffees, Ellie’s of course, and biting your lip.

“Sure you are,” Matt says matter-of-factly. Then his head tilts. “That coffee?”

Dumb question.

“Sure is,” you set them down, one in front of Matt, and one across the table from him. “Can I join you?”

“I gotta get through these documents, but I’m sure you have something to do.”

“Always,” you affirm. You drop your canvas bag to the floor, as you sink into the chair across from Matt.

“Good, you’ll keep me company.”

He resumes tracing his documents with his finger, reading with an ease you envied. You were far too distracted, staring past the screen of your clunky, old laptop, where you had some sort of work to do—the details escape you with Matt across from you.

His sleeves were rolled up, sleeves tight around the circumference of his arm, his tie loosened, collar in disarray. His cologne, inescapable, clouding your consciousness.

You clear your throat, and open a blank Word document in your browser, to at least pretend like you’re doing something. You’re hoping to work up the courage to at least talk to him, like you promised.

Once you’re finally settled into the groove of working, Matt throws it all out the window. He abruptly stands up, standing behind you, observing your movements. You tense up, and your clacking on the keys stops abruptly.

“You’re awfully cute when you’re concentrated, sweetheart,” he comments tactfully, smirking, arms folded.

You’re taken aback, but you don’t hesitate shooting back: “And how would you know?”

Matt leans forward, breath just barely tickling your ears: “I’ve been told I have a knack for these sorts of things.” You want to roll your eyes so hard. Matt has you doing that a lot lately. You swat him away.

You turn around in your seat to strain your head upward to see through his deep red shades, to search his eyes. Your gaze, accusing and scrutinizing.

“Who told you that? Foggy?” you spit back, almost outraged that someone could be so cocky. Meanwhile, Ellie and the butterflies swarming in your stomach had you believing he was sweet. You knew better now.

You brace yourself as you stand up to face him, you’re looking up. You feel woozy, Matt’s cologne and musk overwhelming your senses. You open your mouth, a half-rehearsed confession built up on the tip of your tongue.

Cocky piece of shit just bends his head close and says, voice gruff and unwavering, “Drop the act, you want me.” You promptly shut your mouth.

Your heart is already pounding against your ribcage, and your knees begin to totter and tremble with poorly concealed anticipation.

“Matt,” you set out to say sternly, but your voice betrays you, and Matt gets a kick out of it— you just know it.

Matt steps forward, a step closer to you, and reaches instinctively for you, grasping toward you. His hands finally fall around your waist and bring you against him.

His right hand momentarily leaves your side to tuck a rogue tuft of hair behind your ears. You almost yelp. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, cradling your head in his hand before closing the space between you two, pressing his overwhelmingly soft, blush-pink lips to yours hungrily, tugging at your bottom lip with a distinct cruelty. Matt's tongue is beginning to invade the space between your parted lips, and you begin to suppose the least you could do was return his eagerness.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil x reader

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neteyamsoare · 11 months

Text

Comfort.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Lo’ak Sully x Tsireya.

༉‧₊˚. Anonymous Request. oh ok!! i read over the request rules and am ready to send one now! could u write some fluffy hurt/comfort with tsireya and lo’ak, but where tsireya is the one who is upset and lo’ak is the comforting one? i just think this would be so sweet because tsireya is so pure and sweet and it breaks my heart when she cries in the movie. i also think lo’ak would be good in this situation cause even if he’s awkward he has sisters haha. a specific scene that comes to mind is when lo’ak looks at her and she’s crying while the rest of the clan wants to go to war for the tulkun and it just makes me think about how all this violence is super new for her and how someone who has such a big heart like her must’ve been so sad over the death of the tulkun :( but it doesn’t have to be for this scenario of course, i was just saying where my idea for the request came from!!

༉‧₊˚. Summary. Lo’ak comforts Tsireya as she suffers the loss of her mother’s spirit sister.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Angst and hurt with comfort.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Aged up! Lo'ak & Tsireya, mentions of war, mention of dead Tulkun and her baby, crying, and a fluff ending.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 620.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Tulkun — [is a large, intelligent marine species native to the oceans of Pandora].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. Anon, I’m sorry I took long with your request but I hope you’re still here to read it, I hope I did justice on this and I hope you liked it.

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

Nothing hurt Lo'ak more than to see Tsireya crying while everyone else talked about whether to go to war or not. His gaze lingered on her, wanting to go over to her but as soon as he moved his feet in her direction, the meeting was over and people started leaving. Tsireya took that as her moment to run away from the crowd and he followed after her.

“Tsireya wait-,” he calls out for her but she doesn’t stop, he doesn’t give up and continues to follow her. They ran for a couple of minutes not caring about the wandering looks as they passed by. Tsireya slowed down after she reached the secluded part of the beach no one but she knew and it soon became their spot to sneak off to.

“Tsireya…,” he softly spoke as she slowly sat and let out a sob she held in and Lo’ak heart broke at the sound, at the way she looked so defeated, so scared of what was to come. Lo’ak moves toward her and sits down next to her immediately pulling her into his embrace not saying anything just holding her tight.

He knew what to do when it came to comfort, he had done it before with his sisters whenever they were sad so he knew what to do but he added a few things to it, he drew shapes softly at the lower of her back as he let her cry it out, waiting patiently for she to talk. “Th… They killed my mother’s spirit sister… and her baby…” she forced out between sobs and Lo’ak brows furrowed together at the cruelty sky people had, he hated how they had no respect for the planet and the beautiful creatures that were a part of it.

“How can someone be so cruel to kill not only the mom… but her baby who just was born? They didn’t ask for this,” Tsireya sobbed more as Lo’ak contemplated what to say. “What if they come here?” Tsireya lifts her head off of his chest to look up at him, he breaks more at the sight of her puffy eyes and the tears that left a trail on her beautiful face, he cursed to himself never wanting to see such a beautiful girl like her cry, wanting to take away the pain as long as she stays happy.

“What if they don’t stop there? What if they come here? What if they hurt my family, what if they hurt me…” Tears left her eye as she asked these questions that sounded jumbled as she got emotional even more, Lo’ak raises to wipe away the tears, she brings her hand to his removing it from her face and wrapping her entire hand onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes. “What if they hurt you?” As more tears glistened in her eyes, Lo’ak wrapped his other hand over hers, rubbing it softly.

“Hey, I won’t allow anything or anyone to hurt you, they would have to go through me first,” he smiles a bit trying to get a smile on her face but no luck. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he coos softly as he goes back to drawing shapes on her back. “How’d you know?” She questions softly and he just smiles, “Because you got me protecting you and I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe, and if they do come, I promise you they won’t win, I mean look at me, I’m strong enough to take them down,” he flexes his muscles with a smirk on his face and all Tsireya can do is laugh but deep down she couldn’t be happier that she found someone amazing like him.

🔖 @livelaughloak, @jakesully-sbabygirl, @kenzi-woycehoski, @fanboyluvr, @onlytays, @amart-e, @vxncxntt, @blep24, @blackheart-stuff, @almondmilk8, @love-chx, @uniltsatirey, @23victoria, @saeayanaa, @aash3, @neteyamsbaby, @0littlelucy0, @itszmedawn, @strawberryclouds22, @doulcha, @lixiesbrowniess, @liluvtojineteyam, @tinkerbelle05, @olivikiya, @neteyamyawne, @ratchetprime211, @cloudyl9, @mooniequeen, @kentfisherswifee6, @pandoragalora, @ami-s-k, @murderbirbdany, @anonymousailurophile.

#ಣ : sylaphone #lo'ak x tsireya #loak x tsireya #tsireya x lo’ak #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak drabble #loak fanfiction #loak angst #loak fluff #lo'ak fluff #tsireya fanfiction #tsireya fluff #tsireya angst #tsireya atwow #atwow lo'ak

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mickmundy · 9 months

Note

i am now hooked on bushmedicine bc of your fics, would u happen to have fic/blog recs? 👀

OH MY GOSH EEE THANK YOU SO MUCH MY FRIEND ;__; I'M SO HAPPY YOU'RE ENJOYING MY SERIES!!!! ;u; as for recs.. ohoho... yes... i do.., fortunately i have amazing talented friends whose work i admire and adore!!! just going to say that this list is by no means exhaustive or complete and is being done completely off of the top of my head, so PLEASE don't feel bad if i leave anyone out!! ;__; <333

also i'm really not super active on here so i mostly know twt accounts but i'll do my best! i'll firstly advise you to just look through my bushmed tag on my blog. lots of great folks in there!! ^v^ so much talent!! aoguaougaaa!!! and to my friends who have supported me with my own fics thank you so much ;;; i owe u all everythign!! <333 going to stick this under a cut since it's kind of lengthy!!

for fic recs, i actually don't have a lot of time to read many, sadly!! ;_; BUT i'll gladly point you in the direction of some of my besties' fics that i have read and absolutely adore!!:

see that my grave is kept clean by @fairyouth.... my favorite. john is a freaking MASTER of writing them and i love his big huge creative mind!!

heatstroke by @eurovamp... kat is so talented!! i LOVE her interpretation and they have so many fun au's!! i haven't gotten a chance to read it but she also wrote a bushmed naga fic that they've been talking to me about and AAHHH IM SO EXCITED TO READ!!

as for fanart, i'll also use this as a chance to promote my lovely talented friends!! i don't speak for them of course but i believe some of them (myself included) might be more active on twitter, i'm not sure! :( but i'll rec them here regardless hehehe!! some accts are ns/fw too so just a heads up!

@lovey2dovey2 YESSS FELLOW MEDSNIP LESBIAN!!! HEHEHE!! she's SO talented and kind, and all of her interpretations are SO fun and creative!! absolutely adore her art style!!

@5piecechickendinner / @5piececockdinner DEEEEEE absolutely stunning pieces, great moody art and a joy to talk to!! a blast to talk headcanons with too!!

@rabidratbaby -> twitter acct! amazing pieces, conveys such tenderness and sweetness in their art, both nsfw and sfw!! super chill and immaculate vibes in general!!

@radioactive-gremlin -> support her on patreon! char's got it all... lighthearted silliness and super sexy comics!! a total delight to follow and befriend!

@lubby-beez LUB!! so sweet to know, and the queen of saucy medic art!! amazing coloring and body type representation and super fun ocs!!

@poisonedflame if you follow me on here you've probably seen me reblog ren's amazing sfms quite a few times hehe... so kind and talented, huge-brained and a wonderful friend!!

@skymacaroon fantastic art and super fun to talk to, absolutely love how he draws medic and sniper!!

@oldkamelle one of the accounts that warmly welcomed me to tumblr.. ;u; very kind and so great to talk to, totally wonderful artistic talent!!!

as for folks who i am not very close to but whose works i still adore and cherish and scream so normally and lovingly any time i see them on my tl and who i want to still give some spotlight to! i hope it's okay that i'm tagging you in this! ;-;

@goo-p absolutely no notes... ellís's style yields so much range for whimsy And more somber/serious pieces... absolutely stunning!! a joy to work with creatively and to speak with!!

@hootsimedes such cute style and so many amazing creative ideas!! and so kind!! ^u^

@halfhihat SUUCH a cute style!! absolutely love the cute little comics he draws!!

#asks #anonymous #dutchfoolery #medsnip

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saeyoungs-angel · 2 years

Note

Hey lovely, if you don’t have too many asks id like to request shota or denki with a partner that struggles with depression, mainly with taking care of them selves in this. like hygiene, getting out of bed or doing anything really. denki or shota help them do little things that. i think you know what i mean so just write it how ever you want or don’t, if you are uncomfortable with this.

⨳ punctilious — mha

starring. aizawa & you

plot. you may think you’re slick, but your boyfriend pays attention to everything. this includes the lack of care that you’ve shown yourself, recently.

genre. comfort, fluff

cw. mentions of depressive episodes and depressive behaviors

notes. god i am so sorry it took me so long to get to this, my writers block is so fuckin bad rn but i managed to finish it! i hope u see this since i cant tag u and idk if ur following me but if u do then i hope u enjoy it:)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

𓆩☆𓆪

“(y/n), this is the fourth day in a row that you’ve slept in so late.”

you grumble in your half-asleep state, swiftly snatching the blanket he had so rudely stolen from over you. you tuck it back underneath your weary arms and roll away from aizawa.

huffing, you reply in a slurry manner. “tired, shota. didn’t get enough sleep.”

he hums, tilting above you to reach your furrowed eyebrows—he softly thumbs the crease forming in between them.

“stop that, you’ll look old.” he chides, feeling a bit hopeless with your attitude. he knows very well that your sleeping pattern has been through the ringer this past week, and he also knows he can’t force you to fix it.

that said, he still stubbornly wants to try.

“hey, sweetheart. if you get up now, we’ll go to a cat cafe. how’s that sound?”

your eyes fly open, only to dim moments after.

“not feelin’ it today, sorry sho.”

now, aizawa isn’t surprised by much, but this? this has him reeling on the inside. you never turn down an invite to a cafe, let alone one filled with cats.

something is amiss, definitely. though he’d like to speak with you about it directly, he’s worried that you’ll close yourself off even more—it’s not like you never confide in him, but you’re obviously keeping something from him.

he decides to let you rest, offering him enough time to consider his options.

when the sun begins to set, aizawa grows concerned. why are you sleeping so late now? with only solicitous thoughts of you clouding his mind, he shuffles quickly towards your shared bedroom.

creaking the door open, he finds the lights still untouched. “sweetheart?”

his eyes adjust, tracing the outline of your face that’s illuminated by your phone light—which isn’t very bright, probably because you’ve been in the dark all day long.

“hm? oh, sorry. i got stuck on social media.” you end your excuse with a light laugh, not even inching to shut of the device while your eyes lay on him.

he shakes his head and dismisses your words, moving to seat himself on the edge of the bed closest to you. he grasps your hand in his, smiling at you in concern.

“you haven’t been out of the room today, you know? it’s eight o’clock already.”

his voice brings silence with it, you averting your eyes as you can sense what’s ahead of you. scrolling on your phone, you distract yourself unsuccessfully.

“is there something you want to tell me?”

your scrolling pauses for a brief moment, just before you regain yourself and continue. your heart is by your feet and you have no idea where you should take the conversation now.

“i’m—i, uh. fuck, sho. i’m having trouble, alright? that’s all, and i’ll be okay in time. don’t worry about me, please.”

the last sentence drops from your lips and aizawa worries more than ever—those words always come from someone that needs to be worried about.

“quit it. i’m here to help you, not scold you or something. i’m your boyfriend, (y/n), not your mother. i can’t do anything if you refuse my help, but i’m asking you to let me help you.”

your scrolling doesn’t pause this time, it ceases completely. you shut off your phone, the room dimming before you reach for the lamp and switch it on. your vision is a bit blurry and you’re trembling ever-so-slightly, but you respond.

“okay.” with a shaky voice, you nod your head in extra confirmation.

aizawa’s lips turn upwards just lightly, “then it’s a deal. just one more thing, though. i need you to work with me, you have to try, alright? i’ll be here with you for every step, but i need you here as well.”

that’s how it started, you and aizawa both working to turn your episode upside down. two is better than one, right?

“hey, time to get up. i gave you an extra hour, so i expect a kiss after you shower and brush your teeth.”

you sneer, hating the fact that he knows you would’ve preferred to stay in bed and skip those things.

“why not now?” your tone is playful, yet he answers you honestly.

“because it’ll also be a reward for you, sweetheart. now get up, we’re going for coffee.”

the moment the toothpaste reaches your mouth, you gag lightly. after some time without tasting it, the feeling it leaves on your tongue is unfamiliar—aizawa is immediately by your side, brushing his teeth with you.

staring at him through the wide mirror, you smile to yourself. having someone next to you doing the exact same thing effortlessly may not be super comforting, but as he smiles back towards you the world seems just a bit brighter.

he snags your attention through the reflective surface, pointing from you to himself. your eyes leer on him as he counts on his fingers to a certain number, then switches his toothbrush to the other side. he wants you to repeat it, that much you can tell.

as you follow his actions, you turn it into a tiny game for yourself. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, aaand completely done.

“that wasn’t so hard, right angel?” he smiles down at you as you flip him off sarcastically.

“actually, it’s easier than i remember it. that might be because you’re here, though.”

critical hit, 98 damage dealt to shota aizawa!

𓆩☆𓆪

feedback is extremely meaningful!

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clamsjams · 10 months

Note

7, 15, 33:D

just realized that reblogging an ask game means that i’ll have to remember which numbers are for which question pray for me anyways

7. thoughts on cucurucho & the federation?

oh boy ok i have lots of these but i’ll try to condense them. cucurucho is very confusing and acts very contradictory at times and the feds are very weird and shadowy. what are their goals and motivations? we really don’t know. i like speculating on them and i think it would be interesting if cucurucho was working for the feds against their will or was brainwashed or something, but in my opinion i just don’t have enough evidence or data to say anything for sure

15. favorite pov(s) to watch?

i watch a bunch of povs, i actually follow every single qsmp creator on twitch, even the ones that haven’t played in a while, like kameto, and i like to swap povs if something more interesting is happening, like fun interactions. but for actual faves? i’m trying to not let my biases affect this lol bc i love max and his lore but he doesn’t have the translator in english most of the time and that makes it hard to watch for me. i adore slimecicle when he’s on bc he’s sooo good at going with the bit, and i actually like just having antoine in the background while i’m working. i can’t understand anything bc i’m not paying attention to the subtitles but it’s usually just some chill background noise

33. name a character and what they remind you of (ex color season food scent anything)

pac and mike remind me of like 90s bowling alley/arcade carpet, neon colors, laser tag, and arcade smell idk why but like arcades have a smell and they make me think of that.

antoine smells like when u go outside and u can smell that it’s going to rain, it’s all heavy and u can just feel it. also when u shine a light through a prism and u get those scattered fractals of light with little rainbows, i see him in those

maximus is hugs. giant bear hugs where u don’t let go for like 5 minutes and then u know u have to let go but neither of u want to so u kinda shuffle around in ur kitchen and it’s awkward and u can’t actually do anything like that but u don’t wanna stop hugging. max is soft, have u ever gotten wet, like u went swimming or got caught in the rain and ur soaked and shivering and then u get a towel and dry urself off a bit and get out of ur wet things and then when u finally get into dry clothes it’s all warm and soft and cozy and wonderful? that’s what maximus reminds me of

this last one got long and there’s way more that i could’ve written, for these characters and for others but i’m gonna end it here, i might make a separate post for more of these tho bc it was a fun exercise

#my first ever ask game omg #ask game #asks #pixiecaps #posts from the ocean #qsmp #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp antoine #antoine daniel #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #qsmp maximus #qsmp maxo

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streamafterlaughter · 2 years

Text

New Kid

gif credit

Chapter XIII: That Time of Year

masterlist | chapter XII | playlist

summary: winter break is finally starting to feel like just that, a break. You and your closest friends enjoy the Hawkins festivities to the best of your abilities.

tags: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF!!!!! some minor angst, mentions of parental abandonment, gn!reader, idiots in love, basically all just filler and tying loose ends these next few chapters. hang on tight y’all

a/n: cute lil chapter that made me happy to write. i hope u enjoy it! 1985 is almost over, and so is this fic. it’s getting really difficult to write tho bc i don’t wanna say goodbye!!! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Eddie’s POV

He’s hunched over his desk that’s been haphazardly wiped clean, his tongue sticking out the corner on his mouth as he sketches. The idea came to him in a dream, the first night in a long time you hadn’t been sleeping next to him. He dreamt of you on stage, but instead of The Hideout, you were ten feet above him in front of a crowd of thousands. He hasn’t recognized the song, he’s never heard you play an original, but the energy of the dream made him feel electric.

He pulls the marker up again, leaning back to see the drawing: a silhouette of two people, hands clasped as they spin, surrounded by fire. He leans back down, fixing a few lines before finally standing up. “It’s done!” He announces.

“Lemme see!” Dustin pushes off the bed, and Steve follows him closely. The two hover over the desk, inspecting Eddie’s creation.

“Eddie, this is great! Y/n’s gonna love it!” Dustin beams, and Eddie gives him a small smile.

“I uh, I don’t get it. Why are they on fire?” Steve cocks his head, like a different angle will answer his question.

Dustin sighs. “Must we explain everything to you? Y/n’s band is called Death Dance, Approximately. They’re dancing, they’re almost dying. It’s pretty clear.”

“Dustin, don’t use that tone with your father.” Eddie chastises, shoving the boy playfully.

“Oh! Okay, that makes sense.” Steve rests his hands on his hips, still looking like he doesn’t get the illustration.

“So,” Eddie claps his hands together, startling his friends. “Christmas is days away, what’s the plan?”

“Figured we could watch movies at Mike’s? Binge eat cookies and eggnog, exchange some presents, eh?” Dustin suggests, the glee readable in his expression.

Eddie turns to Steve. “And after, when the children are sound asleep in their beds dreaming of sugar plums or some shit?”

Steve shrugs. “We can go back to Y/n’s, spike the eggnog?”

“Sweet.”

“Now, though, we have a snowball war to win!” Dustin pulls his cap down, preparing to face the cold.

“To the forts!” Eddie declares, and reaches for his leather jacket.

—

Your POV

You and Robin pull into the parking lot of the Hawkins High soccer field, wrapped in layers of coats and carrying a giant thermos of hot cocoa. The boys have a snowball fight planned, and you have been tasked with snack duty.

“These kids go all out, huh?” As you enter the field, you take in the war zone before you. Two forts are already built, giant mounds of snow surrounded by bright orange cones meant for scrimmages. Eddie, Steve, and Dustin are shaping snowballs on the far side of the field, while Lucas, Will, Erica, and Mike huddle together to strategize.

“Oh, yeah. You get a bunch of DND nerds together, they’ll take any opportunity to make something usually mundane, supremely dramatic.” Robin crosses her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from the cold as the two of you approach Max, Eleven, Jonathan, and Nancy on the bleachers.

“Status report?” You ask, spreading out a blanket on the metal bench behind the couple.

“Will has been wounded twice, Eddie is treating the whole thing like a campaign, and Steve still has terrible aim.” Nancy reports, as if she’s writing an article on the battle of Bunker Hill.

“Mike is dead.” El adds, and you can’t help but chuckle at her nonchalance.

You pass the thermos to Nancy. As she accepts, you hear the familiar maniacal laughter of your boyfriend. You look up just in time to watch him hurl a snowball, hitting Lucas square in the chest. “AHA! BOW BEFORE YOUR DUNGEON MASTER!” Eddie turns to strut back to his post when another flying sphere nails him between the shoulders. The culprit, his victim’s own sister, avenging Lucas’s death. “I- I’ve been hit. Please, before I go,” Eddie begins, his voice taking a similar cadence to how you’d imagine a Shakespeare play being performed. “Tell Y/n, tell them,” You’ve had enough of the sidelines. You leap from your seat, abandoning your blanket and speeding down the bleachers, the cold wind sharp against your face.

“Tell me what, darling?” You call, falling to your knees beside your fake dying boyfriend. The snow seeps into your jeans, for you didn’t prepare for participating, and clasp his hand in your glove.

“Y/n! I must be dead, I must have died, did she tell you? Did Lady Applejack pass along the message?”

You try not to giggle, wanting to continue the dramatization Eddie’s created. “You haven’t left yet! Please, do share what you wish to say!”

Eddie inhales sharply, as if the words he wants to say are causing him pain. “Avenge me, Y/n. Avenge my death. Avenge our love. Please, don’t let me die for nothing!” He exclaims before pretending to take his very last breath. You sniffle, wiping away a very real tear caused by the cold, and rise from his limp body.

“You.” Your voice deepens. You stand slowly, ready to retreat to the fort where Steve and Dustin frantically form a stack of snowballs. Erica’s eyes widen as you straighten, standing over her like a mother would her disciplined child. “You will pay for this, Applejack.”

Erica takes a step back toward her fort, the snow crunching under her boot. “We’ll see about that.” She turns on her heel and sprints before you can grasp at the snow.

—

Eddie’s POV

After what feels like days of throwing snowballs, the Realm of Darkness and the Village of Wisdom finally come to a truce. You say a silent thank you to the universe, as you’ve begun to lose feeling in your toes.

You transport the kids to their respective households before backtracking to Eddie’s trailer with the rest of your friends. You’ve snagged a corner of the couch, wrapped in a big, fuzzy blanket. Steve and Robin sit on the floor against the couch, while Nancy and Jonathan have split the space of Wayne’s recliner. Eddie plugs the Gremlins tape into the machine, and takes his place beside you on the couch. You let him untuck your feet, sliding his own into the warmth of the fleece.

“Wanna little extra warmth?” Eddie offers you his flask, a mischievous smile on his rosy face, and you nod. He pours about two shots’ worth of vodka into your mug, then offers it to Steve. The flask makes its way around the room, and the six of you drink and talk as the movie plays behind you. Eddie feels his heart warming as he sips, the alcohol induced sentimentality taking him into a warm embrace. You’re snuggled into his side, and he can feel every time your body shakes with laughter at something someone else says. The trailer hasn’t always been a place of warmth, but tonight, Eddie feels at home.

—

Your POV

The days leading up to Christmas Eve are filled with holiday extravagance. Your mother insists on taking pictures with Santa, just like every year before, even though you’re a fully grown adult. You and your father pick out a tree, a tiny pine with sparse needles, because even ugly trees need love. You leave Mike’s early to set up for the more “adult” Christmas party, taking extra time to make holiday themed alcoholic beverages.

Your friends arrive at your house at eight sharp on Christmas Eve eve, which you and Eddie have dubbed Freaksgiving. He carries his armfuls of presents, insisting he doesn’t need help, while the rest of your friends trail behind him, one or two gifts in each of their grasps.

Eddie rings the bell, and you open the door to greet the rest of what you consider family, the warm air wafting from inside, smelling of cinnamon. You’d declared a rule: for everyone to wear the ugliest holiday sweater they could find. Yours is a cardigan, green and red with fleece polar bears stitched on each side, clinking glasses of eggnog. You chuckle at the collection before you: Eddie’s is blue with a caricature of Jesus with an eggnog mustache that says “Happy Birthday, Big Huy!” Robin’s has a drunk Mrs. Clause on hers with Every damn year stitched in bright yellow, Nancy’s is covered in bells, and Jonathan’s lights up.

“Welcome!” You present the living room to them, covered in warm white string lights, your ancient fireplace crackling with a strengthening flame. You personally despise holiday music, opting instead to play a mix of your friends’ favorite songs. Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush hums softly in the background as Eddie scoops you into his arms, wrapping himself around you like you’re the best gift of the night. “Help yourselves to drinks, and there are cookies in the kitchen! We’ll do presents once everyone’s situated.” You feel good, hosting. You are excited to make your friends feel extra loved today, a holiday that usually makes you sad to celebrate.

Eddie picks a chocolate chip cookie off the serving tray, and closes his eyes as he bites into it. “Babe, these are delicious!”

“Be careful, love! The chocolate chip ones are, um, extra special!” You giggle, and Robin’s eyes widen.

“Did you put drugs in these?!” She bites into her own chocolate chip dessert.

“Not drugs plural! Just a little weed!” You snicker, and pick up your own cookie. Nancy and Steve follow suit, and Jonathan takes two.

Eddie’s POV

“Alright!” You announce, quieting the babbles of surrounding conversation. You catch Eddie’s attention, and he looks at you in awe. The holidays have never been good to him. He’s never had the money to get presents for his friends, and even if he did, he’d never had friends to celebrate with. Beyond that, the holidays were a reminder of how alone he’d always felt, watching everyone leave to visit family, or have warm houses to welcome guests with home cooked meals and thoughtful presents.

Eddie feels a tap on his shoulder, and spins to greet you, holding out a small rectangular present for him. “It’s a little rough, but I did my best.” You say, shyly looking at his nose while you speak. He grins, eagerly taking the gift from you, replacing it in your hands with his own poorly wrapped, flimsy present.

“You first.” He gestures, and you tear the paper swiftly, unraveling the sparkly ribbon to reveal his creation. Death Dance, Approximately is written in capital, jagged letters across the top of the shirt, over a couple meant to vaguely look like you and Eddie, holding hands as orange flames erupt around them. You hold the shirt up to examine it, and you’re grinning ear to ear. “You like it?” Eddie asks, feeling the nerves in his stomach.

“I love it! It’s so beautiful, you drew this?”

Eddie nods. “Figured you deserved your very own band shirt. Soon you’ll be selling out of these at shows.” You pounce on him as he says it, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Thank you, Eddie. So much.” You muffle into his hair, and he chuckles. “Open yours!” You explain, once you’ve removed yourself from his torso.

“Okay, okay!” By now, everyone’s gathered around you and Eddie, waiting expectantly to see the gift you’d come up with. Robin grins eagerly, Steve pokes his head over Eddie’s shoulder, and Nancy watches Jonathan ready his camera.

Eddie peels the paper away, tossing it to the floor to reveal the cassette. “Pretty Boy.” He reads to himself, and he can feel his ears warming. “Can I play it?”

You nod, your face blushing bright red. Eddie walks over to your radio, and pops the tape in. It begins with your tender introduction, before sliding into the song you’d written for him. Eddie closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of your voice, singing only for him. The rasp in your voice gives him chills, and the lyrics pull at his heartstrings like they’re made of rubber. He feels the vibrations in his chest, and the pricks of tears welling in his eyes. He still can’t believe it’s for him, that you’d written and recorded a whole song, a love song, just for him.

Your POV

You watch Eddie closely as the song ends, and he finally opens his eyes. Steve holds his face in his hands, and Robin claps giddily as the final chord rings out. Nancy says something, but you don’t hear her over the nervous buzzing in your brain.

“Y/n,” Eddie says finally, taking a step closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes, and you watch as they twinkle with happy tears. “This is all I ever could have asked for, and more.” He lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “You wrote that for me? Seriously?!”

You nod vigorously, taking a step in his direction. “You’re my muse, I guess.” You chuckle.

It must have struck a chord with Eddie, because he’s suddenly running at you, and hoisting you into the air like a rag doll. “You’re fucking incredible!” He exclaims, and your friends all murmur in agreement. “Merry Christmas, love of mine.”

The rest of the gifts are exchanged with ease. You receive a studded belt from Robin, a new denim jacket from Steve, a copy of Ariel by Sylvia Plath from Nancy, and a leather bound journal from Jonathan. You spend the rest of the night watching Christmas specials in your pajamas, the fire slowly dying as the night comes to a close.

You say your goodbyes to your friends around midnight, waving them off in their vehicles while Eddie stays behind to help you clean up. “I’d say that was a success!” You declare, closing your front door behind Jonathan, and flicking the porch light off.

“Best celebration I’ve had, though that’s not saying much.” Eddie slides the cookies into a tupperware, and places the plate into the dishwasher.

You frown at his words. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, turning to you with a sad smile. “The holidays are hard. They’re usually lonely, Wayne and I never visit the family, we aren’t welcome anymore.”

You take a few steps toward your boyfriend, reaching your arms out for him. He meets you in the middle, letting you wrap yourself around his waist. “You’re always welcome here, we’re having a family dinner tomorrow. I'd love to have you and Wayne over.” You look up to examine his reaction. “Why aren’t you welcome? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“My mom left when I was a kid. Couldn’t take the way dear ole dad treated us, and didn’t have the means to take me with her. She promised me she’d come back, and she used to send me letters every year. My dad would hide them, get rid of them, whatever, so she stopped writing. Turns out, his family sided with him, even after I tried to tell them what he’d done to us. They blame me for the way he is, and they don’t like Wayne because he chose me over them. Good riddance.” He seems to have convinced himself, but you see right through the hard shell. He misses his family, and it stings to hear him talk so sadly about them.

“Eddie,” You whisper, not wanting to stir the air too much. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

He meets your eyes, his own still set in the sad puppy expression you’ve come to adore. His smile falters, though. “Im never gonna believe that. But enough about me, huh? I wanna come tomorrow, truly, but… is your grandmother coming?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, letting him change the subject for now. “unfortunately. But I’ll have my dad talk to her, I'm not gonna let her ruin the holiday.”

“I promise to behave. I can’t speak for Wayne, though.” He kisses your forehead, turning back to the dishes, humming his song under his breath. “I can’t believe you wrote this.” Eddie muses, and you aren’t sure you hear him right. “I mean, I can. I definitely can, but for me, I mean.” His cheeks turn red.

“Why not?” You frown, trying not to let the words hurt your heart.

“I’m still not really used to this whole thing where I’m in love, I guess.”

Your frown deepens and you step closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his tense body. He watches you, frozen against the kitchen counter. “Well get used to it, Munson. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” You lift yourself onto your toes and plant a kiss on his pouty lips. “Now let’s go upstairs so I can show you just how special you are.”

chapter xiv

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