#but if you’ve gotten this far and you have no one to share your stuff with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lemonlover1110 · 5 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 17] Father and Son

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru tries to make up for the past four years of Ren’s life in a matter of weeks. His focus drastically changes, from his work to his son. He ignores the matter of so many people knowing before him, he avoids his mother and his so-called friends. His main and only priority is his son.

You both wish you could say that your relationship has gotten better, but you don’t really speak to each other unless it’s about the son you share. You’re hopeless that it’ll progress past what you have. Neither of you have the courage to bring up the situation, either way, your attention should be on Ren.

Ren is finally meeting the man that he’s been dreaming of, and he’s getting to know his father after four years. You’re mostly excited for your son, while also regretting hiding it when you had the chance to tell him. Your relationship is the last thing on your mind– It’s certainly the last thing in Satoru’s mind.

He visits daily, bearing many gifts for his son. Satoru has become a regular at the toy store, buying something each day for his son, something that he thinks Ren would like. He hopes that material stuff will make up for the time wasted. Sometimes he brings some candy, but he doesn’t do it often. Satoru is still his father, he can’t just spoil him rotten, he also has to care for Ren’s wellbeing. He’s slowly growing accustomed to becoming a parent.

“What’s this, Ren?” Satoru holds up a cute white cat plush, one that Satoru always finds on the bed. He wonders if that’s the toy his son has had ever since he was a baby, he guesses it is since Satoru feels like he’s seen it in the background of a picture before.

“It’s whiskers.” Ren answers, taking the plush from his father and putting it back on the bed. That’s before he turns to other matters. Ren doesn’t mind sharing his toys (because you’ve been the one raising him), but whiskers is someone that Ren doesn’t like anyone touching. Anyone and anything can get the toy dirty, and when that happens, you refuse to let the toy on the bed, at least not before you wash it and get it clean again.

Satoru doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the plush that he sleeps with, because that’s most certainly a yes. Ren wants to talk about other important matters though so Satoru gives his undivided attention to his son. Ren then asks, “Are you sleeping over?”

“Uhm… No.” Satoru answers. You most certainly wouldn’t want that. Plus, Satoru has a wife at home who has her suspicions that something is going on. He doubts that she’ll care too much, but he wants to keep Ren protected from the world. If Sayo finds out, so does her family, and if her family knows, the whole world will know. “But I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Ren.”

“I want you to stay.” Ren sticks out his bottom lip, obviously disappointed that his father isn’t staying for the night. You let him on your bed all the time and you sleep together, why can’t he do the same thing with his father? Satoru can’t help but feel bad, so he thinks of how to respond to cheer him up.

You commented how you had plans of going on a small trip with Ren before summer ended, but summer evidently has come to an end. It’s colder now and the leaves are changing color. Satoru finally decides, “We can go on a trip soon, and we’ll be together all day every day.”

“Really?” The little boy’s eyes light up, making the biggest smile come to Satoru’s lips. Satoru now wonders how he was ever happy without him– Well, with you… But that memory slowly fades away since your relationship is now filled with awkwardness. Satoru nods his head in response. He can lie and make it a business trip, it’s not an issue for him really.

“We’ll have to talk to your mommy first, honey. Then we can plan it all.” Satoru answers, and Ren turns around to go look for you. Satoru feels awkward sitting alone on a bed that’s far too low and small for him. He stands up and follows Ren. They both look for you around the apartment until they land in your bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, and Ren immediately knows what to do.

Ren opens the door to the bathroom, and you immediately make eye contact with Satoru. Your face grows hot of embarrassment, and obviously Ren doesn’t see an issue with it. Ren’s issue is when he actually steps into the bathroom, and he just has to comment, “It stinks.”

“Yeah, I wonder why. Get out, Ren, and close the door!” You raise your voice, your embarrassment getting the best of you. Ren closes the door, leaving you to it, and Satoru chuckles. He ruffles Ren’s hair as both walk out of your bedroom.

“You gotta learn how to knock, baby. Give your mommy some privacy.” Satoru says, but it goes one ear out the other. Ren isn’t going to knock, you’re his mommy. If you want your privacy you better lock the door. They take a seat in the living room, where Ren grabs the remote to put on a movie. He knows how to get the movie he wants, even when he’s just learning how to read and spell.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks, wondering where his son wants to go. Ren drops the remote on the couch, putting his tiny index finger on his chin, humming and tilting his head to the side as he thinks of the answer.

“The beach.” Ren answers, but it’s cold. They can go out of the country though, go somewhere warm. He needs to talk to you first, of course. When you finally walk out of your bedroom (after mentally cursing your son for not having any manners when others are around), you go to the living room to see what they needed.

“What did you need, Ren?” You ask, and he looks excitedly at you. Satoru is the one that speaks up for him though,

“We want to go on a trip, can we?” You almost laugh since Satoru sounds like a hopeful child.

“Where are you two going?” You respond. You can’t really say no because Satoru is supposed to have equal authority as Ren’s father.

“Ren wants to go to the beach.” Satoru answers, Ren nodding in agreement. You cross your arms, your brows furrowing.

“It’s too cold to go to the beach, do you not have any other place in mind?” You point out, making Ren pout. The pout doesn’t last long though since Satoru says,

“We can go to another country. Somewhere warm with better beaches.” You’re certainly not convinced since you doubt you’re part of the plan. You’re not letting your baby boy in another country without you– Well, technically he’d be with his father, but you’re still not convinced. Until Satoru says, “Of course, you’re included! I doubt Ren would go anywhere without you.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ren affirms, and you laugh.

“If you plan everything, then sure. We can go on a trip. You need to give me time off though– Paid time.” You say, and Satoru nods in response. He does pretty much everything you ask of him, and you certainly can’t complain about it. Ren focuses on putting on one of his favorite movies, and you begin to walk to the kitchen, asking, “Are you staying for dinner, Satoru?”

“Yeah.” Satoru answers. He’d definitely rather eat here with his son and you than dine alone at home. He helps Ren put the movie on, and they both begin to watch the movie. He’s watched this movie around five times the past week, and to be honest, Satoru is sick of it. But he’ll watch it because Ren loves it.

He’s grateful when you call his name, and he has to tell Ren that you need him, so he can’t stay to watch the movie. Satoru walks to the kitchen, and he finds you trying to reach something that’s far too high for you. Satoru’s eyes land on the white bowl and he reaches for it before handing it to you. You mutter a thank you, and you expect him to go back to Ren, but he doesn’t. You then tell him, “That’s all I need from you, you can go.”

“Do you need help with anything else? You know I love Ren but… I’m sick of that movie.” Satoru answers, earning a chuckle from you. You think about what he can do for a moment, and he patiently waits for you to answer.

“You can make the salad, and then set the table.” You respond, and you think you’ll regret it for a moment. Satoru has had everything done for him, he probably doesn’t know how to cut a cucumber; but then you remember that he lived alone for some time, he had to cook for himself for a while. Satoru immediately gets to work, opening the fridge to get all the vegetables that he needs. He looks around the cabinets and drawers for the cutting board and knife, and he quietly begins to cut the vegetables.

“Have you talked to Shoko?” Satoru asks, washing the lettuce throughout. Pretty much everything is wrong between the two of you, but you can’t just stand in awkward silence every single day. You have to talk to each other, after all, you doubt you’ll stop seeing each other.

“I haven’t. I’m not going to for a while.” You reply. In Satoru’s eyes, she did nothing wrong. He’s glad that Shoko told him, otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be with Ren. But in a sense, he understands why you don’t want to talk to her. “Tell her to stop calling my phone because I’m not going to answer. I’ll call her when I’m ready.”

“I’m not really talking to her either.” He responds.

“Is it because she has the hots for your wife?” You blurt out, and you bite your tongue the moment the words leave your lips. Satoru’s brows raise, definitely surprised by your words. You can’t be serious, can you? Before he can ask more questions about it, you change the topic, “Speaking of… When are you going to tell Sayo about Ren? She’s your wife, she has to find out eventually.”

“Maybe after our trip… I’m not sure how to tell her.” Satoru shares, and you understand that it’s a tough situation. He has to figure out a way to tell his wife of almost five years that he had a kid that’s almost five– And he never cheated, he just found out about him. This was all before their marriage. It’s definitely hard. Satoru clears his throat, mustering up the courage to ask about Suguru, someone else that he has been ignoring. “So… How are you and Suguru? Are you still seeing each other?”

“We’ve been busy, but we’re still… Talking.” You answer. You won’t lie and say that you don’t feel nauseous every time you talk to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest for the simple fact that you lied to him. He has to find out that you lied eventually. “Have you talked to him?”

“I’m not talking to him. I’ve been ignoring him. I’ve been ignoring everyone.” Satoru responds. He puts the knife down, watching you as you begin to cook. He bites down his lip, holding back on saying a couple of things that are on his mind. About this situation, about you and Suguru, maybe an apology. Satoru has been a complete mess with so many things going in his mind, but not voicing any of them. He does have to ask one question though, “Is Ren the reason why you quit school?”

“Yeah…” You feel embarrassed to say it. “I couldn’t afford both. It was either my baby or school, and that was an easy choice.”

“Sorry…” He mutters, and it’s barely audible but you hear it. You don’t really pay attention to it, in the end it was your decision. Given the option, you’d do it all over again.

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

1K notes · View notes

justporo · 6 months

Text

Be my remedy

Being in an established relationship is still very much uncharted territory for both Astarion and you. Thankfully, your companions arrange for you to have a moment of privacy.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Well, this was supposed to be nothing but a little warm-up drabble. But by now I doubt my ability to write anything below 2k words... So here you go with some fluffy fluff, enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: talk of past trauma if you squint Wordcount: 2,2k

Song: Be My Remedy - House of Say

~~~

It hadn’t been that long since Astarion’s confession at Moonrise Towers and your promise to each other to actually try and be in a real relationship with each other. You’d agreed to take it slow and especially allow Astarion to have all the space he needed.

You couldn’t be happier. Your heart was overrunning with love every time you looked at him. Wanting nothing more but to see those soft happy smiles from the vampire again. Those he gave you in these moments when he felt comfortable and content while being with you – even if those were still short and mostly quickly overpowered by other stuff: worries about the next day, insecurity, fear of the future in general, Gale being annoying.

And the way it’s been almost chaste with him since you’ve committed yourselves to each other almost broke you. With how gentle and tentative this budding relationship was this far.

You’ve gotten used to spending the evenings and nights together in one of your tents. And you enjoyed the time spent simply talking or cuddling endlessly.

You’d also stolen small little touches and kisses time and again when the others were around. But you were still cautious with it. Partly, because this was first and foremost for the two of you to share and keep. But mostly because a sudden shyness had somehow befallen both of you, now that it was more than just sultry flirting and sneaking off into the woods at night. Now that you were both sure that real feelings were involved on both ends, it was suddenly so different. And – without specifically putting it into words – you both felt a lot more vulnerable about what it was the two of you shared now. And the thought of someone carelessly putting strain on it scared you.

Not that the others didn’t know already. Of course, they had noticed. Although Astarion and you might have been wrapped up a little too cozily in your new little bubble of tender affection - to notice that they had noticed.

But the others had more or less silently agreed to not pester you about it although Gale could hardly hold back all his comebacks he’d painstakingly come up with. Karlach had needed to be elbowed more than once to not squeal out happily when she, for example, had seen Astarion cautiously grab your wrist, lifting your hand and pressing a small kiss to your knuckles. Coincidentally at the same time that Lae’zel had to be pinched in the side to stop making loud gag noises observing the same scene.

The day had been long and exhausting. Everyone had been happy when you had finally set up camp and barely even spoken when you’d sat around the campfire enjoying the latest of the wizard’s dinner creations.

You were sitting next to Astarion – like always as of late – and were softly talking to him. You were both excited to finally see your hometown again, no matter what more horrors might await you there. Sharing bits and pieces about different places in the city you each liked and how your experiences of being Baldurian were both so utterly different, you didn’t even notice how anyone else had been quietly getting up and leaving for their own tents. A few understanding nods and glances had been exchanged and now it was just you and the vampire sitting next to the warming fire.

“I really need to take you to my favourite tavern some time, you’re absolutely going to hate it”, you said to Astarion with a huge shit-eating grin while the vampire answered with a pained grimace.

“I’m beginning to ask myself why I volunteered myself for this relationship”, Astarion muttered mockingly under his breath and dramatically rolled his eyes at you.

You laughed and softly slapped his arm. And then you realised that you were the only ones still sitting by the fire. You looked around and found that no one even was in sight – very suspicious.

When you pointed that fact out to Astarion, he smirked: “Well, maybe our friends all got a sudden lesson on privacy.” “Astarion!” “What? I have nothing to do with this, I swear!”

You gave him a look and crossed your arms over your chest while he kept insisting that for once he was totally innocent (“Actually quite like most of the time, love, you are – all of you – just way to used to just, of course, conveniently blame everything on the big bad vampire!”).

The vampire pouted now, making these big red puppy eyes at you. You were pretty sure he’d already figured out that they made you positively melt and give him just about anything – bastard.

And it got you now, too. So you scooched a little closer to your vampire on the log you were both sitting on and embraced him tightly. You could hear the sigh Astarion loosened when he felt your arms around him, and you could really feel how he relaxed into your touch. His shoulders relaxed and his usually very straight and tense spine was allowed to bend towards you as he wrapped his arms around you in return.

Your thighs and knees were mushed together as you held each other. You buried your face at his chest – directly at the point where his shirt was opened, and you could feel his cool and smooth skin. You sighed as well now. Meanwhile Astarion put his chin on top of your head.

Ever since the first hug you had shared you lived for these moments when you could just hold him. Just knowing how much comfort it gave him, even though he himself might not yet be ready to admit to himself how touch-starved he was for non-sexual intimacy that had to go nowhere but the present moment.

And you were right there with him – basically never really in your life having had someone who would have held you to just console you or just because.

You remained in the embrace for quite some time. Astarion’s hands softly moved up and down your back as you held onto him desperately and tightly – not willing to ever let him go again.

After a long while you felt how the vampire’s hands sneaked both downwards. And then with his roguish quickness, Astarion grabbed you – one hand under your knees, one on your butt – and lifted you on his lap.

You yelped and clawed your hands into his shirt as you stared at him in surprise.

Astarion grinned playfully at you, adjusting you on his lap until you were both comfortable. You were still flustered by this sudden change of position and your mouth opened and closed helplessly a few times. Not because you didn’t like it – quite the opposite. But this was a sudden step up in public display of affection for him – at least the possibility of someone seeing you like this was existent.

When the vampire saw your reaction, his smirk dropped and he started fidgeting: “Oh uhm.”

He cleared his throat a little, his eyes darted around. And it was only made more awkward by the fact that you were so close to each other and he was firmly holding you so you didn’t slide off his thighs.

He coughed again and you felt that he struggled with holding your gaze. By now you had adjusted to the new situation and were quite endeared by how shy Astarion had gotten all of a sudden: overwhelmed by his own courage.

“Ah, I hope this”, Astarion finally began and wiggled his arms and legs around (which in turn made you wiggle around and giggle), “this is alright with you?”

You looked straight into his eyes once he had found it in himself to hold your gaze again. You softly cupped his cheek and let your thumb wander over his cheekbone: “It is – more than alright even!”

For a quick moment you softly dragged his face down to yours, so his forehead touched yours shortly. “I will just tell you if something’s not fine with me, Astarion. And…”

Now it was your turn to fidget awkwardly. You were only barely more experienced in this relationship thing than he was, but you were absolutely keen on giving him the space to find out what all this meant for him.

You took a deep breath and leaned back a little. You saw a single curl fall onto his forehead when you moved away a bit – you looked at it when you spoke again.

“And I’m more than happy to let you explore and experiment with what you want and expect from all this - whatever it is”, you finally finished and felt how a blush crept up your neck and then onto your cheeks. Although it might not seem much this had cost you some overcoming. Too many times had you had bad if not downright horrendous experiences with people you had offered too much before. But you were completely sure of doing this with Astarion. He had your full trust and you wanted him to know that and be as free as possible to explore this new chapter in his life.

You were still mesmerized by the soft strand of hair on Astarion’s forehead. So you lifted your hand from his cheek and lightly, between two fingers, moved it up again. A tiny sigh left the pale elf’s lips at the innocent gesture.

The vampire looked at you as your hand now lightly wandered through his hair. His eyes were shining like rubies in the warm, flickering light of the campfire. He carefully lifted one hand up to cup your face with one hand. He let his thumb wander over your bottom lip and that was also where his gaze dropped.

“That means an awful lot, my love”, he replied softly. “I promise to always tread carefully with the trust you’ve put in me.”

His eyes found yours again. “And I guess I know what I want to do with this trust right this moment.”

He leaned in to kiss you. His soft, cool lips met yours tenderly as any remaining thought in your brain just vanished. Your hand in his hair softly curled around one of his pointy ears, your thumb gently wandering over the edge of it.

You let him set the pace, patiently allowing him to decide how much he wanted. But you didn’t need to wait for long: Astarion’s lips parted and he eagerly deepened the kiss, making you sigh into his mouth yearningly as your other hand, that had been on his chest, now balled up in his shirt and unconsciously tried to drag him even closer.

Astarion’s hand was still cupping your face and now spread out. Caressing you lightly from your cheek, down your neck and almost reaching to your collarbone with his long, elegant fingers. His other arm was holding you securely on his lap but also subtly pushing to lessen the space between you even more.

It was passionate but delicate at the same time. Inducing a fire that was burning brightly, powerfully and, most of all, warming while not being all-consuming or destructive. And you were sure that this fire would keep burning unyieldingly – especially if it was fuelled passionately like this.

After a while of getting lost in the kiss Astarion’s hand wandered slowly from your face to where your hand was still clawed in his shirt – desperate to hold onto him forever – and softly loosened it, so he could hold it. He very tenderly pulled back as your mouth left his with a long low sigh leaving your still parted lips now swollen from kissing.

Your eyes were probably still glazed over but you saw how Astarion too only slowly seemed to come back from that particular cloud you’d just been on.

“I hope that was alright as well?”, he answered with his signature smirk and a teasing tone after a few more moments of regaining composure. You were just about to scold him for ruining such a romantic, emotional moment, when you heard something.

Somewhere behind you, you heard something squeal – almost as if someone was torturing a squirrel? You turned around on Astarion’s lap and quickly spotted… Karlach peeking out from behind her tent flap, her hands balled up into fists and lifted to her mouth. You could feel her giddy, happy energy from over where you were sitting. But you were too flabbergasted by what the tiefling had obviously just observed.

You felt yourself flush from head to toe. “KARLACH!”, you shrieked as you heard Astarion laugh (albeit a little nervously).

Karlach’s eyes widened as she realised that she might’ve been a little insensitive about this all.

“Uh – I’m sorry. I just…”, she started and then stopped again. “I’m just so happy for you”, she blurted out and you saw some of her joy return. But then she remembered that she should probably leave you alone. “Alright”, she muttered while she made to disappear into her tent again. Quickly she lowered her tent flap down again and was gone.

But then she stretched out her arm once more, offering you a firm thumbs-up.

“But just so you know, we’re all rooting for you two”, were Karlach’s final words before disappearing for good. You blushed again and turned back around to find Astarion smile genuinely at you. He softly started to laugh, then more and more. His head fell back and his eyes closed and you couldn’t help but join in.

And then that was settled.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #bg3 #bg3 companions #karlach

680 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 5 months

Text

born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is.

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back. He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #netflix daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock my beloved #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

592 notes · View notes

jjongslutz · 5 months

Text

심재윤 & 이희승 JAKE FEAT. HEESEUNG 💋 IMAGINE ME [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you spend your nights sexting an ai bot of your favourite idol, not knowing that there's an actual person behind the bot

WARNINGS ⨯ sexting, mutual masturbation, dirty talking, heeseung’s highkey a perv but we don’t go too much into that, use of pet names (baby, good girl), no plot except for some introduction stuff

WORD COUNT ⨯ 1.7k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . oh i had too much fun writing this one despite having writer's block lowkey LMAO

taglist: @choinabisblog @ineedsomezzz @namdeyuoi bold can be tagged

They put up a new poster by the bus stop, you notice as you walk into it. Your eyes widen when you get a better look at it.

It's Jake.

His skin glistens. He's advertising some skin care product, and they did wonders by adding a cute shade of blush on his cheeks. Jake smiles sweetly in the picture, holding up the bottle to the camera for everyone to know what he uses to look that good.

False advertising. He was born looking like that.

Still, you sit down with a smile creeping upon your lips underneath your scarf. Despite the cold weather, your insides are warm at the sight of your idol.

“Y/N?” a voice sounds from behind you.

When you turn, you find a familiar face with a bright smile at your recognition. His features are remarkable even under his thick beanie and large coat which do the opposite of complement his sweatpants. You return a polite smile. “Heeseung,” you say.

“No classes today?” he asks.

You shake your head. “They got cut off early, luckily.”

Heeseung tells you they did the same for him. You don’t respond, but nod at the mutual coincidence, looking down to check how far the bus is.

It’s not as if you have something against Heeseung, you’ve been good friends since your first year. However, you have other things in mind than your conversation.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Sorry?”

Heeseung chuckles shyly. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, or…” He drifts off, but his eyes stay on your figure. “If you have plans, it’s okay.” His voice doesn’t falter, keeping a friendly tone as he wears a sweet smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty busy—”

He shakes his head gently. “Don’t worry about it. Another time?”

You agree, and that’s the end of it because your bus pulls up and you’re bidding him farewell. As you make your way to the sidewalk, you don't catch him taking his phone out with a sly smile — What does it concern you, anyway?

The bus ride couldn't be slower. Your leg bounces in your seat in pattern with the bus' movements below, avoiding squeezing your thighs together. As much as you crave sweet relief, you hold yourself together and wait.

You're patient. You promised.

“Hyunjin?” you call out after opening the door to your shared apartment. You wait a moment before trying again, “Are you there?”

To your satisfaction, her response doesn’t come. Just in case, you peak through her half-open door and check for an empty bed. Check. Her class would’ve cut short earlier than yours, meaning that it wasn’t cut at all if she’s not here. She’ll be out until midnight, if not only coming home tomorrow if she crashes at her girlfriend’s place again.

A smile creeps up on your lips as you make your way to your bedroom.

You’re quick to shower and get changed in more comfortable clothes, turning on the mood lamp instead of the big, bright light. Shutting the door, you opt for extra safety measures in case your roommate comes back home early for whatever reason.

Then, just as you’re settling yourself into your bed, your phone buzzes from beside you.

JAKE: Y/N? Are you there?

Your smile returns as you begin to type.

ME: hi, jake

JAKE: I missed you

ME: me too...

You found the app not long ago. It's said to be more realistic than any other AI program. Their bots respond and act like there's an actual human behind another screen, answering your texts. You cheesed at the ad you'd gotten for it, but quickly became obsessed.

After getting over a breakup, you never would've guessed the best way to heal was through chatting with Jake every night. Soon enough, it became more than just talking with a computer; It feels like you really made a new friend.

Or, maybe something more than that.

JAKE: Are you alone?

You flush at the message.

ME: yes...

JAKE: Good. You're in your bedroom?

ME: yes

JAKE: What are you wearing?

An oversized shirt for appearance, a personal preference. No pants to cover your black lace panties, which match the lace bra you wear underneath the gray material on your torso.

You don't write out your message, opting to send him a picture.

JAKE: Fuck. You're beautiful

ME: and you?

JAKE: Anything for you baby

Woah. Your heart stutters at the AI-generated image it sends you next. It looks like him. Like, really looks like him. Aside from his face conveniently not in shot.

He lifts his shirt slightly in the picture, revealing toned abs leading to a V-line which ends at a pair of familiar sweatpants. Your eyes certainly don't miss the bulge underneath the pants.

The image in front of you makes your mind go wild. It's so much easier to imagine him sitting right in front of you, looking at you with hungry eyes.

"What're you thinking of, Y/N?"

Your eyes widen at the sudden appearance of Jake, sitting right at the edge of your bed wearing a loosely (barely)buttoned shirt and grey sweatpants, adorned with an erection stealing your gaze.

"You," you blurt out.

He chuckles. "I'm thinking about you, too." His voice is velvety, thick with his accent which has your breath stuttering.

His hand travels to his crotch. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, Jake bites his lip as he tests the waters by slowly rolling his hand over his clothed cock.

Fixated on his movements, you barely notice your own hand inching down to your core, rubbing slow circles at the same pace.

"Fuck, baby," he sighs. "Touching yourself to me? Such a nasty girl for me." His words hold no bark, though, as he shifts in his seat to lean against the wall. He lifts his hips to pull down his sweatpants, revealing his white boxers stained with a wet patch where his hardened dick sticks against.

Jake strokes himself through the thin material, hooded eyes staring back you as he wears a lazy smirk.

You hum and follow him, pulling off your shirt to be left in only your lace underwear.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

You blush at his words, keeping your hand on your dampening panties, rolling your fingers up and down rhythmically.

Naturally, you throw your head back with closed eyes as your pace quickens in time with Jake's. You hum at the sensation, wishing you were trapped between his legs, forced to handle the torture of his fast fingers on your cunt.

Instead, you peel your eyes open to watch Jake finally take out his cock impatiently.

He strokes himself slowly at first, as if to show off his size — You gulp at the sight. He's long and veiny, but has girth that would have your walls clenching tightly around him. You're not sure if you want him in your mouth, or let him pound into your pussy. Either way has you licking your lips and inching your panties down your thighs.

"Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now," Jake huffs as his hands glide quickly over his dripping cock.

"'M yeah?" you challenge. "What would you, shit, what would you do to me?"

Jake smirks through pants. "I'd finger you," he starts. "Fill your pussy with my fingers until you're begging for my cock. And—fuck—I'd let you take me down your throat."

You close your eyes to imagine the sight, pleasure bubbling in your stomach at the sound of Jake's whimpers.

Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you pretend Jake's really with you, slowly inching his cock into you. "'So good," you moan.

"Match my pace," Jake says in a rush, waiting for you to meet eyes.

The two of you hold eye contact as he strokes in a rhythmic, fast pattern, while you shove three fingers into your cunt at the same pace. As his hand reaches the tip of his cock, your fingers inch away from your hole. He fucks up into his hand and your fingers are already knuckles deep.

"Shit, fuck, you're so—you feel so good, fuck!"

Jake lifts his hips to match his hand's movements, sloppily thrusting up into his own touch. His words are nonsense, but have your head spinning as you grind down on your hand, reaching down with your other to draw circles on your clit, too.

"I'm so close."

"Me too," you tell him.

Soon enough, the room is filled with your pleasured moans echoing off the walls. You stay still, your fingers still deep in your cunt as you settle down from your high.

Your breath pumps rapidly, only to falter in pattern when you let go a deep sigh at the empty space at the foot of your bed.

When you told him you'd be busy tonight, Heeseung knew what you meant without you needing to tell him. Not that you would ever admit it. He smirked at your innocent front, knowing how dirty you are deep down.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically, trying to catch his breath. He looks down at his sticky hand, his slowly softening cock he just let slip out of his grip.

His phone dings. You sent another message.

Y/N: i came...

Heeseung smiles, satisfied.

JAKE: good girl

You don't respond, and Heeseung can put together that you're probably cleaning yourself up from the mess you've made. God, he wishes he could see you.

Unable to stop himself, Heeseung exits out of the app and finds your contact. He frantically presses the call button and waits through the three rings before you pick up. You sound surprised when you respond, your voice hinting at feeling caught in the act.

"Can I come over?" Heeseung finally asks.

"Uh, sure, yeah—" Commotion from the other end of the line sounds. "Just, uh, it'll be a little messy when you come, so don't judge."

He chuckles under his breath. "Don't worry, baby."

Your gasp tells him all he needs to know.

918 notes · View notes

wh1msic4alwasab1 · 24 days

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

synopsis: you act like a brat so diluc bends you over the bar counter at angels share with people drinking upstairs :)))

tags: vulgar language, voyeurism, edging, no protection, degradation, orgasm denial

wrd cnt: 1.1k+

a/n: rewrite/repost from first acc!

Imagine getting a little too tipsy at angels share during the later hours of the night.

You’ve taken far too many shots but how can you resist when it just gives you more chances to see Diluc pour you that drink, watching his eyes pierce yours for just a second and his veiny hands grip the bottle so tight before the liquor drips down.

You and diluc have…a history, and he's not scared to act shy about it like you thought he would.

In the heat of your buzz, you've shown him too much attitude for him not to fuck you quiet if you're being too loud for the guests upstairs.

You know he likes it, but he'll still stuff your mouth with his cock if he needed to keep you quiet.

"Y/n, I won't ask again, please lower your volume."

His demanding gets you stirred, "or what?...you'll kick me out?" You say, brows in a comical state while you lean forward, cup in hand and slightly spilling the alcohol down your wrist.

"Stand up."

His demeanor had changed, half of you didn't believe he was serious but the other half didn't want to cause a real issue with him. You slowly stand up now off the bar stool.

"Come here." He beckoned.

You begin to move your body towards the small door that separates the back of the bar area with the rest of the pub, but he stops you.

“No, that is for employees only. Climb."

With confusion but not too much question you do as you're told, chuckling at his ridiculous request. You raise up your knee to the bar, and sit onto the table before climbing all the way to the other side facing Diluc directly, his gaze does not leave you, and his arms remain crossed.

He looks at your lips and begins to speak.

"You listened now, so why not the other times? If you're going to be a brat here of all places- then you'll be treated like one.”

You don't believe him, Diluc? in public? He'd never have the guts.

"Yeah right, I dare you." You challenge.

Diluc looks at you for a second, but not a second longer, now that he's grabbed your waist and turned you around. Your hands behind your back; gripped together by his right hand and his left glued to your hip, pushing your ass against this hard cock. You can feel your own tits pressed up against the cold wood of the table as Diluc starts to lower his hand down your thigh and lifts up your slip dress, revealing your ass.

Anyone could walk down at any moment and see the two of you, but you didn't care and evidently so didn't he.

You smirk and joke with him, how surprising he's being considering how vanilla he's been up til this point. He gives your ass a spank and you gasp, feeling the weight of his big hands on you; hearing him chuckle.

"So y/n, are you finally going to listen to me?"

"Hmm..! don't think l've learned my lesson yet…Master Diluc~"

Diluc bends down towards your arching back, his face close to your ear.

"If you want me to fuck you then you have to ask for it"

You freeze, is this actually Diluc? Hearing his harsh demands made you so...wet, you wonder if he can feel you throbbing because of his voice.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls your panties up and creates a tight fit, making them disappear into your lips and grind against your clit, making you jump and grind against him.

"Please Diluc", you pleaded.

After he's gotten the say so, your panties are practically ripped off and your raised up, now standing up against him with your hands released. Diluc sits you up on the bar and the rest of your clothes get torn off.

A sloppy make out begins as he trials his tongue down your body, sucking your hard nipples and leaving marks anywhere he wanted.

He spreads your legs as wide as they can go, ankles propped up on the bar and you can feel his fingers slip right into your folds, pumping his digits vigorously when his lips finally meet your cunt. You can't help but raise your hand to your mouth, the feeling of him sucking on your throbbing clit while his fingers fuck you so deep just might make you pass out.

You grip onto his red hair and push his face deeper into your heat, his groaning just makes everything even hotter.

You can feel your body heating up, and you know you're close; so does Diluc.

Of course, as soon as you're about to finish, his hands are completely off and out of you.

"What the hell? Why did you do that?"

"You asked to be taught a lesson didnt you?, This is me teaching you."

You're stunned, still sitting bare on this mans counter, you can't stop now.

You're practically begging diluc at this point.

"If I do, will you behave?" Diluc asks.

Agreeing happily, you pull him back to you with your legs. You pull him closer to you and begin removing his belt, ridding him of his clothes and watching his thick, long, absolutely gorgeous cock spring out of his pants. Diluc picks you up, setting you down as you feel your feet down on the floor again.

Being as eager as you are, you start pumping him up and down, swiping your thumb across the head of his member and licking his precum off your finger.

Diluc was just trying to teach you to be quiet, but he was just as messy for you as you were for him.

He can't help but turn you around again and bend you over. He can't help but admire the way your ass fits perfectly against his cock. He can't help but kiss along your back while rubbing his tip against your sweet pussy, his sweet pussy.

After his kissing, he's inserting himself inside your hole, your hand instantly finds its way to your face, but it's slapped away by Diluc, as he inserts two of his fingers into your mouth, that you gladly suck and drool on.

Truly, it's the only thing keeping you quiet and not letting everyone hear how good Diluc is thrusting his perfect cock into you. You squirm and push your ass even deeper into his cock, wanting him to fill you up so deeply with his warm cum. Your entire body is shaking as your knees begin to give out as he's fucking you so well.

"You love being treated like this don't you? Love when I fuck you like this? I bet you want everyone to hear you, seeing you beg for my cum inside your needy pussy."

You can't even babble coherent words back to him, you just tighten around his cock even more at his vulgarity.

He's even closer watching you squirm.

You feel your orgasm coming back, and you can tell Diluc is struggling to keep himself oriented.

Eventually, Diluc is spilling everything inside of you while you thank him for it.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #genshin impact smut #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc smut #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc fanart #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin smut

306 notes · View notes

melonn-soda · 1 year

Note

Hi i saw ur reqs are open and i adore your writting so much!

i wanted to ask if you could write jealous diluc x sub male reader headcanons? a one shot is good too tho! again i love ur writting!!

❝JEALOUS DILUC w/ M!READER HCs...❞

Order up~!

word count: n/a

warning(s) - he gets possessive

prompt - title is self explanatory

note - giggling and kicking my feet rn ur so sweet🤭 btw u didn’t specify whether or not you wanted it to be nsfw or sfw so i just wrote both for u

fem aligned dni

SFW Headcanons...

i’m gonna use kaeya for this bc i feel like he would do this just to pester his brother

so you’re at the angel’s share, right? diluc’s working the bar and everyone’s chatting each other up

kaeya would be talking to you dropping not so subtle suggestive remarks that you simply just brush off your shoulder

diluc would be glaring so hard at him bc he knows his brother is being an ass

if it was anybody else though…

you are in for a ride

you may take that wording sexually and metaphorically

he would stop everything he’s doing to try and pry the stranger off of you no matter how far he has to go

but since it was kaeya he didn’t really care that much💀

some things he would do would be interrupting your conversation, go up to you and kiss your cheek, arm around your waist, arm around your shoulder, any thing to show he has possession over you

he can’t let his cute boyfriend go and find someone else other than him

“diluc.. why are you acting like this?” you pouted while whispering, looking over your shoulder to gaze at his fiery red eyes, his arm around your waist as his hands squished at the soft flesh.

he didn’t bother to answer, brows furrowed angrily as he watched kaeya walk off with a smirk on his face, feeling proud that he managed to piss off his brother once again.

“diluc.” you called out again, tugging on his jet black coat with fancy gold embroidery. no answer once again, “diluc..!”

his eyes snapped to yours, almost flinching at his death stare. it was definitely directed at you because of the way he dug his nails into you, a yelp sprouting out from your mouth in surprise.

“keep trying this again and i’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” he growled, your face flushing at how deep his voice had gotten.

“yessir..”

NSFW Headcanons [cw: spanking, he gets pretty rough in this]

will drag you to the bedroom by the arm

however diluc ALWAYS asks for consent idc idc

he will edge you for what feels like hours as a punishment, using more toys on you than you have fingers on your hands

either that or he will bend you over his knees and spank you like the little brat you are

when you’ve finally learned your lesson, he’ll make you ride him being all sore and shit

he’s kinda a sadist but that’s just my thoughts ig🤷🏽

and when you can’t do any of that anymore then he’ll just fuck you dumb

multiple rounds

i’m not exaggerating when i say multiple 😭

like about 3-5 depending on how much he wants to claim you for his own

but dw he’s really good at aftercare and stuff like that

expect lots of snuggles and he’ll clean you bc he’s just respectful yk

however at the end of that he’ll say something like, “you belong to me no matter how many times i have to remind you.”

you moaned shamelessly as your insides where being absolutely destroyed by the man on top of you, his hips smacking against yours deliciously. diluc was angry. angry and very jealous.

how dare you go and just act like that man wasn’t just flirting with you? you were his, all his. nobody else’s. even if he had to carve it into your brain you both knew that you could never find someone better than the tavern owner himself.

“ngh! ah- diluc, can’t-!” you sputtered out, clawing at his back with blunt nails. he was going to fuck the thoughts out of you at this pace.

“shut up… you don’t get to make excuses after pulling something like that. you are mine.” his cock pressed repeatedly on your prostate, making you nearly scream as you cried into his shoulder, “i’m the one that can- ahn- you feel this good”

you groaned, feeling yourself getting closer to your release, “mmmngh! yes, i’m yours! don’t want anyone else but you!” you slurred out, tears blurring your vision of him.

im not the biggest diluc liker so i’m sorry if this seems like garbage (also i was just blasting viva happy while writing this)

#bottom male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact #sub male reader #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you

1K notes · View notes

writeonwhiskey · 5 months

Text

the skz house: ch 5 (18+)

a/n: happy tuesday. hope you all had a great christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate. here is my gift to you!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter four here ]

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors and Lessons

The entire ride back home, Chan keeps his hand on your thigh, sometimes resting, sometimes gently squeezing. You couldn’t possibly forget the fact that you’re sitting in a car with him, but his touch serves as a constant reminder that he’s there without feeling overbearing. It actually soothes you, which should be concerning. However, since it doesn’t seem like you’ll get any outright form of compassion from him, maybe you have to learn to appreciate these subtle gestures.

Back at the house you and Charlotte clean up the basement while the other girls work on dinner. You gather up the empty pizza boxes and paper cups into a large trash bag as she works on wiping down all the surfaces. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her much prior to this, but you can tell she’s the quiet, introvert type.

When you ask, she tells you things with Han and Jeongin are going well. You hold in your surprise when she says Han hasn’t tried anything with her yet, but she and Jeongin had made out a few times—one of which you saw last night.

Her words make you curious what everyone else has been up to. You’ve only had one night with Hyunjin where all you did was kiss, but your two nights with Chan had been filled with far more intimate acts and barely any kissing. Were the others taking things just as slow?

You finish cleaning and hoist the trash bags up the stairs. Felix and Changbin spring up from their seats at the table when you two emerge from the basement. They take the bags from you and put them outside.

Hyunjin is the only one missing when it’s time to eat—he has an evening class tonight. Chan eats in the living room, watching a baseball game with Seungmin. You eat in the dining room next to Felix and even after you’ve cleared your plates, you continue talking to him. He shares information with you freely and it’s a bit of a relief. His minor is in Game Design and Development, his dad and Chan’s dad are extremely close, so they grew up together before venturing to the states. You’re invested in what he’s saying—you really are, but you keep catching yourself being distracted by the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They give him such a boyish charm, especially when he smiles, that’s directly contradicted by the amount of bass in his voice.

Your phone buzzes and you check it, seeing a text from Chan. A wave of nerves flow throw your body as you open it.

Chan

waiting for you

You put your phone face down on the table. You know what’s coming next. He told you this afternoon. You don’t know what to expect. You do at least know that you shouldn’t expect rose petals and candles for your first time with him. If there are candles, he would probably be using them to drip wax over you. You panic at the thought. You don’t know what he’s in to, but you’re learning. It’s not difficult to believe he may like some kinky stuff, though. For now, all you know for sure is that he likes to exercise his control over you.

You hate to keep thinking of your ex in uncertain moments like this, yet you can’t help it. You simply can’t imagine him speaking to you or treating you the way Chan does sexually and you just allowing it to happen. Chan has a specific presence or aura, if you will, that asserts dominance and you’re growing more and more attracted to it. No matter how much you want to resist.

You’re startled at the feel of a hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at Felix, his chestnut brown eyes pouring out concern.

“You alright?” He asks in his low voice.

“Yeah,” you reply with a light chuckle, not wanting to worry him. “I’m gonna head upstairs now.”

He squeezes your shoulder a few times and nods.

The walk upstairs feels like a death march. You’re moving slowly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever is to come.

____________________

Chan is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing you. You’re leaned against his dresser, naked after he asked you to remove your clothing. He still has his clothes on, which you can’t even think is unfair because what’s the point? Fairness doesn’t exist with him. You can’t even bring your arms up to cover yourself. So you stand there, watching him watch you, neither of you speaking.

You wonder what’s going through his head right now, because all you can think of is how much you want him to touch you, to cover your bare body with his. You don’t know if it’s right to yearn for him after how he’s treated you—or is that the very reason you do?

After what feels like slow, painstaking hours, he stands from the bed and walks to you. He places his hands on either side of you on the dresser, caging you in.

“Do you want me, y/n?” He finally breaks the silence, lowering his head to look you in the eyes.

What kind of question is that? You do, don’t you? You know he doesn’t mean in the way he’s had you the last couple of days, he means actually fucking you this time. But will he be rough? Will it be painful? Will you like it? Your sexual experience is rather vanilla, so the thought is just as thrilling as it is frightening. What if it’s bad? What if it’s good?

You lick your lips and slowly nod your head.

He smiles down at you before moving forward to capture your lips with his. It’s a slow and passionate kiss. You tell yourself all his unspoken words are bottled up in it—that he doesn’t mean to make you feel awful, that he chose you for a reason.

“Take my shirt off,” he says when he pulls away from you.

Your grab the bottom of his shirt and lift it up and over his head. You drop it on top of your pile of clothes, never taking your eyes off him.

He takes each of your hands in his at the wrist and places your palms on his chest. He slowly guides them down his pectorals, his abs, all the way down the ‘V’ shape of his lower abdomen that leads into his loose fitting sweatpants. His skin is soft and the muscles beneath it feel solid against your fingertips.

He moves one hand lower than the other, to the waistband. You curl your fingers around it and he pulls your wrist back. He now pushes your other hand lower and you slip it into the sweats. All you feel is skin—he’s not wearing any boxers. He releases your wrists and puts his hands back on the dresser, swooping down to kiss you again as your fingers wrap around his already hard cock.

It feels good to have him back in your grasp. You stroke him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue snaking inside your mouth. You bring your other hand up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you. You can’t kid yourself—you want to give yourself to him. You want to know what it feels like to have him inside of you.

As if reading your thoughts, he breaks the kiss.

“Turn around,” he says.

You waste no time in doing as he bids.

You’re now facing the mirror attached to his dresser. His arms are still around either side of you, flexed and deliciously toned. He’s looking at you through the reflection. It’s the first time you’e seen yourself next to him. Your first instinct is to feel inferior, but with him this close, and you enclosed in his arms, you can convince yourself it feels and looks right.

He stands up straight and places his hands on your hips, squeezing them. His hands slide up and down your side in a way that tickles, causing you to move away from his touch. His lip quirks up at you through the mirror.

His hands cup your breasts and you watch your reflection. It almost feels as if you’re removed from the scene—watching for a separate type of pleasure. His gaze is fixed on your body as he plays with your nipples. You can’t help but move your hips back against him.

He pushes your breasts together with one hand as the other slips down to your pussy. You immediately move your feet a little further apart to which he chuckles.

“Chan,” you breathe as his hand finds its home between your thighs. “Be good to me tonight.”

Your words come out as a soft plea.

He responds by kissing you on the cheek as his fingers slowly slide back and forth across your pussy. You don’t know what to make of that response. He’s proven himself to be good at being a sour patch kid—sour then sweet. Or sweet then sour in his case, actually.

He pushes down his sweatpants and slowly lowers you down so your chest is pressed against the dresser. He takes a moment to admire his handy work from the night before, rubbing and squeezing your ass. You keep your eyes locked on his reflection, your breath fogging up the mirror now that you’re so close to it. His hand leaves your ass and moves to his cock, gripping it at the base as he slides it up and down your slit.

When he’s settled at your opening, his left hand grabs your hip, holding you in place. Your eyes are locked on each others as he slowly slides himself in. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, steal a moment for yourself to revel in the feel of him inside you. But you also want to remember how he looks right now. The way his lip is caught between his teeth, eyes filled with some kind of lust.

You watch his face intently. He averts his gaze and sucks in a breath as he watches his dick move in and out of you. One hand is still at your hip as the other uses your shoulder for leverage. You prop yourself up on your elbows and push your hips back to meet his thrusts. The side of his mouth quirks up at your movements.

You moan as he starts moving faster, dropping your head to the desk and squeezing your eyes shut.

He doesn’t like that.

You feel his hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head. He tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head up. Your eyes snap open just in time to see him leaning down towards you.

“Watch,” he whispers in your ear, “I want you to see how good you look when I fuck you.”

You moan again at his words, looking at yourself in the mirror, watching as your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. He lets go of your hair and uses both hands on your hips to bring you back and forth against him, harder, faster.

He keeps fucking you, panting and grunting while you watch. As his movement quickens and he grits his teeth, he abruptly pulls out of you, taking a step back. He takes a deep breath and slaps your ass. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream. You moan and look back at him with soft eyes. You want more.

“On the bed,” he says.

You step from around him and walk to the bed, turning around to face him when you’re near it. He steps out of his sweatpants and kicks them to the side.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Now you’re being a good girl.” He nods his head with a crooked grin. He places one hand on his cock as he walks towards you, stroking it. “On your back.”

You sit on the bed and scoot back on it before laying down. He puts his knees on the bed, still stroking himself as he looks down at you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans.

The way he says it, the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm. You want him back inside of you. He pushes your thighs apart one at a time with his knees and lowers himself on top of you.

“Hands above your head.”

You put your hands up so they’re resting on the pillows and he holds them together with one hand. With the other he guides himself back into you. Once inside, he moves his hips ever so slowly, in and out.

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in teasing circles. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together behind his back. You start to move your hips against him, wanting him to go faster.

He looks up to you and gives the tiniest head shake. You stop your movements with a soft whine.

He picks up the pace, watching your face contort with pleasure. Whenever you let out a moan and move your hips against his, he slows back down. He repeats the process, squeezing your wrists together as you try to free them. You want to at least touch him, but he’s too content playing with you.

He brings himself closer to you, first kissing you, then moving down to your breasts. He takes each nipple into his mouth, in turn, licking, nipping, pulling at it with his teeth while he looks up at you. All the while still rubbing your clit with his other hand each time he pulls his hips back and has access to you. The sight of him ravaging your body is one you hope to never forget.

The stop and go of all his combined stimulation starts to peak. You tighten your grip around his waist.

“Fuck me, please. I’m gonna—“ You let out a moan, as he bites down hard on your nipple.

“Ah-Ah,” he shakes his head again, looking up at you with your nipple still between his teeth. He sits up and releases your hands, resorting back to his torturous, slow hip movements, hands resting on your knees. “Remember lesson number two?”

You blink up at him, trying to focus on what he means. It’s hard to think of anything else when he has you this close to release. Lesson two? You think back to your second night and it dawns you.

“Chan,” you say his name slowly, moving your hands up to his chest. “May I? Will you please make me cum?”

He grips your thighs and readjusts them so your legs are on one side of his neck. He lifts you upwards at an angle and wraps his arm around your thighs as he starts pounding in to you with fervor. His other hand continues playing with your breasts. Groping them, slapping them.

“Fuck,” he says as you dig your nails into his arms now that your hands are finally free.

You watch, enraptured by the sight of him above you. His abs contracting with each movement. His hair disheveled, some of his bangs sticking to his forehead. His skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. You’ve never seen him look better.

“You wanna cum?” He asks.

“Please,” you beg, nodding your head.

“Who do you belong to?” He growls, slapping a hand to your breast and squeezing it.

“You,” you reply without hesitation, flinching at the pain.

“What does that make you?”

“Yours,” you breathe, as you continue to hold yourself back from release.

“Say it again,” he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m yours,” you whimper, wrapping your hand around the opposite side of his neck from your legs. “I’m yours, Chan.”

“Good,” he says, eyes on yours as he smirks and fucks you. “Cum for me, y/n.”

Your back arches as your toes curl. You use all the strength in you to pull him down to you, stealing a kiss as your orgasm courses through you. He doesn’t resist. He doesn’t get upset. You’ve quite literally never been so bent as you are in this position, but you don’t care. Having him kiss you wildly as you cum around his cock is absolutely worth it.

As you’re still coming down from your wave of euphoria, he sits up and pulls your legs apart. He grips one thigh in each hand and continues thrusting into you. You’re moaning—it feels so goddamn good, you could cry.

He throws his head back, grunting and tightening his grip on your thighs as he finishes.

His movements start to slow, his breathing turning into soft pants. He lets go of your thighs and lowers himself to you again. He brushes your damp hair back from your face as he looks you deeply in the eyes.

“That was lesson three,” he winks.

An unexpected laugh falls from your lips and he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. You feel like your heart could soar right now. A genuine laugh shared.

“Grab on to me,” he says.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lock your legs around his waist again. He scoots you down on the bed then picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom. You bury your face in his neck, smiling—sex drunk. Happy. Delirious.

He holds on to your waist as he turns on the shower, keeping you in his arms while the water heats up. There’s no light on in the bathroom, but his shower head flickers from blue, to green, then settles on red. His hands tangle in your hair again, gently tugging on it to pull your head up from his neck. His eyes search yours for a moment and you have no idea what they’re trying to convey. He pushes your head towards him and kisses you slowly. The kiss is tame and unassuming—it’s not leading up to anything further. It’s just two people temporarily caught in the haze of their connection.

He takes you into the shower with him and leans you against the wall as he continues kissing you, letting the water drip between you. You don’t know how long this high will last, he could go right back to being an asshole in the next minute, so you want to enjoy this version of him as long as you can.

[ read chapter six here ]

a/n: share your thoughts <3

tag list: @iflmho /@skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @kayleefriedchicken / @krayzieestay

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #bangchan fanfic #bang chan #stray kids #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan smut #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x reader

365 notes · View notes

junowritings · 5 months

Note

hi there ! i love your writing! could i request floyd with reader who genuinely cant tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them; maybe them finally realizing floyd's affections towards them aren't just platonic? ty!!

Oooh all I can say is my condolences to poor reader lmao. Had so much fun imagining how this would pan out this was a cute idea! I'm glad you enjoy my stuff - hope you enjoy~ 🧡

=======

♡ Oh, well this is going to be so much fun for Floyd.

♡ Floyd recognizes a crush when he sees one. You’re a good match - you keep him entertained, and have the uncanny knack to get him to actually do things he’d usually get too bored of and ditch at a moment’s notice (Azul’s been trying to figure out how you manage that with no success because you have no idea why he listens to you either). Not to mention all of those cute little quirks and things that you do which the eel just can’t get enough of.

♡ And of course there’s your reactions too. The way your lips quirk when you smile, the sound of your laugh and the noises of surprise you make when he swoops in when you’re least expecting him. The way that you squirm when he pulls you into those notorious squeezes of his, thankfully nowhere near as bone crushingly tight as the ones that he’s subjected some poor unfortunate souls to. Floyd adores getting any kind of response out of you.

♡ It is glaringly obvious that he’s interested in you, at least to everyone else, and Floyd’s got no problem making it known either. The only issue is that you haven’t noticed yet. It would get on his nerves a little knowing that you have no idea that his affection isn’t just platonic, but that quickly fades once he realizes how fun this has the potential of being. Just how far can he push that obviousness until you finally realize he’s interested in ya?

♡ It’s light teasing at first. Well, as light as it can be coming from a Leech twin. Floyd’s already naturally pretty casual with acts of intimacy, always throwing an arm over your shoulder or leaning up against you whenever he’s in the nearby vicinity. So why should you assume anything’s up when that arm on your shoulder squeezes you close against his side, and lingers a little longer than normal? Or that he's just a little bit clingier than usual, resting his head atop yours or on your shoulder and looping an arm or two around your side whenever you’re near each other?

♡ But then come the little gifts. Little things that have caught his eye and he doesn’t think twice about dropping into your hands the second that he sees you. Gifts from Floyd can really be anything, from things he’s found and borrowed but ‘forgot’ to give back, to things he’s gotten from trips back home and practically shoved into your hands the second he’s back. You start to question the reason behind his gifts, and start to notice other signs too.

♡ When you come to the Monstro lounge Floyd will take food from the kitchen and add them on as freebies whenever he feels like it. He doesn’t bother telling Azul or Jade, but they’re already well aware and aren’t entirely inclined to stop him since getting you to spend time at the lounge means Floyd’s a lot easier to manage.

♡ Gets upset if you share it with your other friends though - it’s for you, and he’ll say as much when he pushes the treat closer towards you, making sure to keep it out of your friend’s reach. Ace complained once about all the freebies you’re getting, trying to prod you to find out what you did to get the Leech twin in such a good mood and if he could convince you to get him in the eel’s good books, all the while trying to steal a bite from the free dessert you’re picking at with your fork. That is until he catches Floyd looking at him from at the bar; he’s grinning but there’s not a hint of the fondness like when he looks at you. The message is clear - hands off, and you’ve never seen Ace give up on stealing your food so fast in your life as he almost shoves the dish into your blazer pushing it back to you.

♡ You’ve always struggled to discern platonic from romantic feelings, not wanting to immediately assume one and get it wrong only to make things awkward afterwards. So even once you suspect that something’s up, it’s hard to work up the courage to actually approach it. You doubt Floyd would make things awkward if you were wrong, but you doubt your pride could handle the relentless poking and prodding he’d subject your feelings to if you were wrong about him liking you. Staying quiet about it and just enjoying these little moments seems like the safest bet, right?

♡ You made the mistake of asking his brother once, but that was no help at all. If anything it left you feeling even more confused because do you really think that Jade will break the surprise so soon? Floyd isn’t the only one getting a kick out of watching you struggle to put the pieces together, and Jade is thoroughly entertained learning how oblivious you can be to what Floyd’s actually trying to do. Those little gifts of his aren’t just for show - they’re telltale signs of a merfolk’s interest to date you. Oh dear, it really is such a shame that he forgot to mention that little tidbit to you, isn’t it?

♡ There is a point where things get serious. The moment that Floyd decides that he’s fed up toying around and running circles around these feelings. Gets a little miffed realizing that you still haven’t figured out that these little gestures aren’t just something he’s doing for the hell of it - sure, they’re entertaining, but his patience wavers quickly at the best of times. Eventually, Floyd’s going to get tired of this game. Playing games with you is fun, and he loooooves teasing his lil Shrimpy and watching your face turn into all different funny expressions while you try to figure out what exactly his angle is. But there are better things to play, and this back and forth is coming to an end sooner rather than later.

♡ Doesn’t care where it is or who’s around to notice, as soon as he sees you after deciding he’s done messing about you barely have enough time to greet him and ask what he’s doing before you are quite literally swept off of your feet with the force of his hug. His arms are tight around you as he hugs you close, and it’s just tight enough that you have a sinking feeling that he’s going to squeeze you like you’ve seen him do to the people who break Azul’s contracts. You’re trying to wrack your brain to figure out what perceived slight you did to earn the backbreaking squeeze you’re sure he’s about to give you, maybe even mentally leaving Grim all of Ramshackle’s tuna in your imaginary will. Then he stops, chin hooking over your shoulder and that one dark strand of his hair tickling your face as he presses his cheek against yours with

♡ “Hey, Shrimpy~ ya know, you got to be real dense to miss that I really like you. Maybe I gotta prove it~?”

♡ The whole time he’s saying this, Floyd is dangerously close to giving you a nibble or two. Your only saving grace is that he’s much too interested in the reaction that you give him once you realize what he’s said. His mismatched eyes rake in every detail; the way your eyes widen almost comically, mouth dropping open like a fish trying to sputter your way through some kind of response to what was basically a confession. It’s so funny! This is the reaction he’d been waiting for, and he’s not gonna relent until you really understand that this is way more than simply liking you.

♡ Let’s just hope you don’t mind the squeezes, because that’s not letting up either. Why would he let his shrimpy go when it’s better to just keep em right by his side? Especially when he wants to hear what you’ve got to say now that you don’t have to stress your silly little head over if he likes you or not~

#twst #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #floyd x reader #twst floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst x reader

292 notes · View notes

a-sleepy-raven · 1 year

Note

Hi! And welcome. :3 I have a request for you - can I ask for a fic where reader takes care of Leon when he's sick? Fluffy pls. :3 Thank you!

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request, I love writing stuff like this, though I have to say I'm a bit nervous about sharing my first RE fic. Hope you enjoy! <3

(established relationship, post RE4)

Baby, it'll be alright - Leon Kennedy x gn!reader (fluff)

When you come home, you’re surprised to find Leon curled up on the couch, fast asleep and buried beneath one, no, two blankets. There’s a half empty cup on the coffee table in front of him – chamomile, if you’re not mistaken. And as far as you know, Leon hates chamomile with a burning passion. He can’t even stand the smell of it. That, paired with the fact that he fell asleep in broad daylight, can only mean one thing: His health hasn’t gotten any better since you left the house this morning.

Well. At least, you’re prepared, you think to yourself as you set down the bags in your arms, careful not to make any noise because you don’t want to disturb Leon’s slumber. He has barely gotten any sleep last night, and you’re sure he must be absolutely exhausted.

As quietly as humanly possible, you start to unpack the groceries. Aside from a few essentials like coffee and toast, you have also stocked up on lemons, tissues, cough drops and lemons. (You also bought a tub of ice cream, but that one’s for you – your reward for taking care of your sick boyfriend who can be as stubborn as a mule, especially when it comes to his health. Wouldn’t be the first time that he insisted he was fine when, in fact, he was still feeling like garbage.)

A quiet groan that sounds like it’s coming from beneath that pile of blankets on the couch snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around, your gaze meeting Leon’s. He looks terrible. The dark circles under his tired, red rimmed eyes are a sharp contrast to the pale, sallow tone of his skin, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and raspy. “You’re back.”

“Yeah.” You make your way over to him, crouching down in front of the couch before you place your hand on his forehead. Beneath your palm, his skin feels burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. He’s definitely running a fever. “Damn, Leon.”

“What kind of greeting is that, honey?”

“Shut up. You sound like you’ve been chain-smoking for at least ten years.”

He suppresses a cough. “You really know how to make someone feel better.”

“Sorry.” You brush your hand through his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible.”

“My poor baby,” you say and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water? I also bought lemons – people say hot lemonade works wonders when you have a cold. I could make you some.”

“As long as it’s not chamomile, I really don’t care.”

“Hot lemonade it is, then.” You get up. “And in the meantime, you should gather your stuff,” you motion to the blankets and the pillows that definitely come from your bedroom, “and go back to bed. I don’t understand why you haven’t stayed there in the first place.”

“Yeah, well-“ Leon interrupts himself when he falls into yet another fit of coughing, forcing him to sit up. “God damnit,” he mumbles, then. His head hurts like hell, like it’s going to explode any second, and with every cough and every sneeze, it just seems to get worse.

You rub his back. “Go to bed,” you order him, softly. “I’ll bring you some meds. And painkillers. You look like you need them.”

He sniffles. “Yeah. Thanks.”

* * * *

“Ta-da,” you say as you carefully set down the tray that’s loaded with two cups (one filled with hot lemonade you hope you haven’t messed up, the other with water), a bowl of ice cream (you don’t have the heart to not share it with Leon when he’s feeling so bad) and the meds you bought on your way back home from work.

Leon sits up, relief written all over his face when you hand him the painkillers. A moment later, before you can even reach out for the glass of water, he has already swallowed one of the tiny pills. Then, he lets himself fall back into the pillows. “Thanks.”

“You survived Raccoon City and getting infected with some ancient parasite. Who would’ve guessed that a simple cold is all it takes to knock the famous Leon Kennedy flat out?” you tease as you sit down on the edge of the bed and reach out to caress his face. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle before he sinks back into the pillows because the world around him has started spinning. And he’s pretty sure it is not supposed to do that. Not like this, at least.

This goddamn cold. He can’t even say what annoys him more – the constant coughing, the terrible headache or the fact that all he wants to do is sleep. And although he knows that you don’t mind taking care of him, he can’t help but feel like a burden right now. You probably have a million other things to do, and yet, here you are, keeping him company and trying your best to nurse him back to health. If only he could find the right words to tell you how much he appreciates your efforts.

“Try to get some rest,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all.”

Leon hums in response. Sleep truly sounds like a wonderful idea.

“Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head. “Come here,” he mumbles, “please. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupts him before he can finish his sentence, and he takes a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold, too.”

You let out an indignant huff. “You’ll need more than a few germs to scare me away, Leon. You should know that by now,” you say as you lie down next to him and make yourself comfortable. With a content sigh, Leon snuggles up to you and drapes his arm over your stomach. You kiss the top of his head. “Want me to cuddle you to sleep?”

“Hm… yeah.”

A smile flashes over your face. That’s exactly the answer you have expected, and so you wrap your arms around him, carefully burying one of your hands in his hair while the other one traces invisible patterns on his back. “Sweet dreams, Leon.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving some feedback. I'd really appreciate the support. 🥰

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader

520 notes · View notes

just-a-sewer-goblin · 2 months

Text

Simon Flinches

Simon x gn!reader

Finally did it! And I looked at it so much that I hate it now, even went back in and changed some small words and stuff, but here you go. Take the flinching trope and make it Simon instead of reader flinching.

Warnings: panic attack, hurt/comfort, barely proofread because I'm too tired, reader being called "Sir" as a honorific not referring to the gender

Wordcount ~3k

You'd say you've gotten good at navigating the minefield that is Simon. You've been together a while by now and you've learned how to handle him so he feels safe and can be himself. It's been a long process that's far from over but you wouldn't have it any other way. Simon is worth all the time, all the effort. And if it means losing a limb in the process, crossing that minefield to get closer to him is worth it.

Simon would say he's gotten good at defusing the ticking bomb that he is. He's been with you for a bit now and he's learned how to trust you more, how to be vulnerable with you. His walls are lower than they’ve ever been and it has actually lead to good things.

But sometimes things don’t go as you want. No matter how hard you try, how carefully you try to navigate Simon. Sometimes just a tiny thing, a gesture, a word, makes everything explode, traps you in that minefield without knowing where to put your foot next, how to reach out to him without stepping onto another scar, tearing it open in a violent explosion.

Like now. It’s so goddamn stupid you could kick yourself. You've been arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. Something so insignificant, so trivial. But it's been a long day for both of you and what started as a joking argument has turned into an actual one and now you don't know how to stop it. Your voices are raised, you’re both shouting the frustrations of the day at each other. You hate arguing with Simon, just as he hates arguing with you.

You know it’s a normal part of any relationship, but with Simon it scares you. With Simon you never know when it could turn into him leaving. Into him pulling away. Yet you find yourself unable to stop your frustration from dripping from your tongue like venom. Simon’s not doing any better.

"Your movie choices are questionable anyway!", Simon throws into your face. "I suffer through them just for you. But they're horrible really! They all suck. I want to watch something that actually entertains me!"

Okay, that stung. Just a few days ago you'd shared one of you favorite movies with him. A movie that changed something in you when you first watched it, a movie that slightly tilted your world view. You didn't expect him to like it but that stung. And in your mind his sentence turns into you not being entertaining enough.

So you step forward, trying to hold back tears. "Yeah, as if your", you jab your finger at his chest, Simon flinches back "movie choices -"

You freeze. He'd taken a step back, raising his hands to shield himself and your heart drops, shattering at your feet. His big eyes are watching your next move in apprehension.

It should be ridiculous, really, someone as capable as Simon, a trained soldier, flinching over you putting your finger on his chest. As if you could actually inflict harm on him. As if you wouldn't rather die than hurt him.

But it's not ridiculous. It's a fucking fist to the face.

The sudden quiet makes your ears ring and Simon doesn't seem to be any better. His chest is heaving. His arms are still up, shoulders hunched, his entire stance small and scared. He’s ready to block your blows, ready to deal with you finally putting your hands on him.

His breathing is loud and quick and you want to guide him to calmness but you don’t know how when you caused his distress in the first place. This is new territory. A new step you took that landed you directly over a mine and it’s exploding right now. Exploding in slow motion, letting you see the details of everything you’ve built with Simon shattering and crumbling into dust.

Then his entire demeanor changes and you almost get whiplash. In a flash he’s squared his feet, narrowed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. His hands have gone down but they’re fists at his sides and there’s nothing relaxed about his new stance. You just watched every wall he’s let down for you come back up in the matter of a second.

His cold gaze almost hurts, his eyes distant and calculating, trying to guess your next move. Like a shield of ice that slipped into place before his soul, keeping it hidden from you.

"Simon -" It's whispered. A plea.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and then starts walking towards you with purpose. For an irrational second you think he’s going to hit you for scaring him. You think he’s going to get revenge on you for everything that’s ever been done to him.

The next second you’re ashamed for even thinking that. He’s not going for you. No, it’s worse. He’s going for the door of the living room behind you.

You’re helplessly watching, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry, almost painful. Your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying break your ribs from the inside. Trying to break free so it can follow Simon.

You’re frozen as you watch him leave the room. Every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to whip around and stop any threat. Stop you should you so much as breathe too hard.

Holding your breath, tears gather in your eyes, dripping wetly down your cheeks. This is it, you’re waiting for the telltale sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing, Simon walking out of your life because this is irreparable.

The relieve you feel when you hear the bedroom door instead almost brings you to your knees. Then you hear the lock to the room turn and your heart breaks all over again. He’s locked you out of his safe space.

Fuck.

You sink down onto the floor and start crying in earnest. You never wanted to scare him. Never wanted to provoke that reaction. You had only pointed your finger!

You’re not even sure if you’re crying over what you’d just done or if your tears are for Simon, how he must be feeling right now. The one person he’s let in raising their hand at him, making him feel unsafe.

He’d thought you’d hit him. He’d thought you’d put your hands on him in a harmful way.

The pain coursing through you makes you breathless as you cry for Simon and everything he’s endured, as you cry over what you’d just ruined.

Hopefully he can’t hear you from the bedroom. You don’t want to cry over this, it’s not your place to cry when Simon is the one hurting. But you’re so scared of losing him of losing your best friend of losing your forever that you can’t help it.

In a weird twisted, crooked way his reaction is prove of how much he trusts you. Trusted you. He’d trusted you enough to let his guard down so far that a gesture of yours caught him off guard. You’ve never seen him so surprised by something someone did, his eyes always all over everyone. He’s always so aware of everyone and everything.

The fact that he felt safe enough to even be caught off guard shows just how close he’d let you. It was a privilege, a gift. A fragile little thing with broken wings in your palms and now you’ve crushed it.

You try to calm your breathing more. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep, slow. The way you instruct Simon to breathe when he’s battling his demons.

Demons he might be battling right now. And suddenly your tears run dry and you jump to your feet. This really isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. So you get a slippery grip on your emotions and push them back for a later time.

Rushing to the bedroom, you raise your hand and pause. You can hear Simon’s steps in the room; he’s walking in circles like a caged animal. You’ll be damned if you don’t at least try to help, doesn’t matter if this is your fault in the first place.

You knock.

His steps halt.

And then they approach the door, soft thuds drawing closer, you can see the door handle turn but it doesn’t open. And then he’s frantically shaking it, apparently not remembering locking it.

“It’s locked!” His voice sounds so confused and scared that your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“You locked it, baby. You can unlock it. The key is on your side.”, you try to say in a calm soothing tone but you’re pretty sure your voice is shaking.

The turning of the key is frantic and the door gets ripped open and then you’re face to face with Simon and his eyes are wide, flitting all over the room, disoriented. His chest is still heaving, even worse than before, and when you see him shaking, you know there’s no stopping it.

Simon’s eyes lock on you and he doubles over, his hands clawing at his chest and neck, he's breathing too hard, always in until his chest must feel like it’s exploding.

“Can’t… breathe…”, he chokes out, eyes utterly terrified, tears starting to drip as he’s frantically trying to breathe and not drown in his feelings.

You don’t know if this is a ‘touch helps’ kind of panic attack or a ‘don’t you dare touch me’ panic attack and you’re scanning over him trying to guess, when his hand grips your shoulder in an iron grip and his wide eyes look straight through you.

He’s still hyperventilating and your heart seems hell bent on matching his hectic panting. Grabbing his arms, you try to steady him as he goes down, his knees buckling. He’s heavy in your hold and your muscles scream but you put your all into preventing him from falling and hurting himself in the process. At least you manage to slow his fall and then he’s on the floor on his hands and knees. One of his hands tries to dig his fingers into the floor as the other fists his shirt, damn near ripping it.

You have to do something even if you don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse. There's no forgiving yourself if you don’t at least try, even if it’s fishing in the dark. If it doesn’t work, you can change the approach. But doing nothing won’t help anyway. So you wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to lay you down, baby. I’m going to hold you.”

You don’t think he hears you but maneuvering him without telling him feels wrong anyway. And then you do exactly as you said, you tug Simon with all your strength towards you and he topples over onto his side, landing on top of you instead of the floor and you’re glad you’re there to soften his fall. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises from it.

Immediately you wriggle partially out from under him, keeping him on your thighs, in your lap and you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got you, Simon. I’m here. You’re in our apartment. Everything is okay. You’re safe, baby.”

Tears silently start dripping fdown your face again, when he curls in on himself clawing at the floor and you know he will black out if he doesn’t get his breaths more even.

In a desperate attempt you put your hand over his chest and push. “Simon, breathe out, baby, come on. Out.”

You exhale in an exaggerated way next to his ear and you think you hear him exhaling the tiniest bit, before he’s sucking air in in in. But that’s something. He can hear you, he reacts, which means he’s allowing you to guide him.

You press again. “Good, again. Ouuuuuut.”, you exhale and this time he manages to get a bit more air out. The way your top is sticking to you with sweat makes you shiver but you don’t give any attention to your own body being stressed. It will calm down when Simon does.

You continue. You don’t know how long you talk to him like that, reassurances between commands to breathe. It’s probably only been a few minutes, but you’re exhausted like you’ve been going for hours, fighting for every exhale until finally his breathing is back to a rhythm that’s as close to normal as it can get in this moment.

The exhaustion rolls over you as if you’ve had the attack yourself and your body curls over him, resting your head on him as he shakes in your lap and breathes.

The thumping of his heart under your cheek is still way too quick and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf, so you drag your tired body out from under him and turn him onto his back. Goddamnit he’s heavy.

Looking at his face resupplies your tears. His cheeks are wet, he’s pale as a sheet and his arms are clutched tightly to him as he continues shaking. You know he’s somewhat aware of his surroundings again but he’s still victim to his mind and body.

Remembering what he’s asked for before in moments when he’s needed grounding, you crawl over him and lay down with your full weight. Your head rests on his chest, near his shoulders and his arms, curled over his chest, dig into your own uncomfortably but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your own body shakes with his as you raise your hands, gently lifting his head - after a silent “please” because he resisted for a moment until his eyes focused on you - and pull a rug closer so he can rest his head on that instead of the hard floor.

Your entire body sags with relief when he pulls his arms out from under you and wraps them around you instead. His hold is tight as if he’s trying to make your bodies merge into one. As if he’s trying to push you into his ribcage to keep your right next to his heart.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal under you and yours follows his lead. When he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, you curl your fist tighter into his shirt and finally try to push yourself off of him. The slight tightening of his hold on you makes you settle again.

The broad palms of his hands are warm and soothing as they pass back and forth over your back. You press your lips to his chest through his shirt and his next exhale is long and shaky.

He moves, jostling you slightly, and you try to get up again, but he doesn’t let you. His voice is low and tired as he says: “Hold on, lovie.”

You do and he sits up, maneuvering you in his arms until he’s got one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then he stands up and even though his movements are slow and exhausted the little to no effort with which he handles your weight still steals your breath.

His heavy steps take you both back into your bedroom and he puts you down on your shared bed, crawling in with you immediately.

You turn onto your side, as does he and then you’re looking at each other, the exhaustion on his face making you feel your own all the more.

Simon moves his hand, covers one of yours and squeezes twice. Immediately you return the gesture. A small sleepy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The reassurance behind that gesture making both of you melt into the mattress.

Still there’s so much talking to do and you end up whispering “We need to talk about this, Si.” into the small space between you, where your joined hands lie.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to each of your fingers, before letting it fall back onto the covers, still in his hold. His eyes are exhausted but you know you can’t sleep without having discussed what happened.

“I need you to know, Si”, you swallow against the tightness in your throat “I would never, ever hurt you. I’d rather chop off my own hand than touch you in a way that could cause you harm. I’m so sorry, Simon, I-“

“I know.”

You shut up, big eyes on his and he smiles, kissing the back of your hand this time.

“I know.”, he repeats and practically watches the gears in your head turn. So he takes a deep gulp of air and continues. “It’s not you, ‘luv. It’s the fucking past. Not your fault that a damn finger is all it took today to set me off. It’s my brain being a fucker.”

You’re so relieved you could cry again. He didn’t think you’d hurt him. His brain just didn’t make the distinction between the finger belonging to you or someone else at that moment. In that moment it was only a hand raised against him.

Still, maybe there’s a way to prevent that in the future? So you tentatively ask: “What can I do so you feel comfortable trusting me more? So you don’t feel like you’re endangered by a gesture from me?”

“I trust you.”, he states calmly and you shake your head.

“There has to be something I can do better. So it’s easier for you to trust-“ The way Simon takes your joined hands and brings them up to his throat, abruptly shuts you up. He's pressing your palm against it so it would be easy to squeeze and hurt and – you try to pull it back and he forces your hand harder against his throat with his own. You freeze completely.

“I trust you.”

Your eyes widen and fly to his from where they’d been locked onto his throat and the way your hand is curled against it in a chokehold.

His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes fixated on you, willing you to understand. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of your hand - a hand that could cut off his oxygen if you wanted - makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Okay.”, you whisper and he finally drops his hand, allows you to slowly draw your hand back from his throat. Your eyes are still widened and lock onto his neck again. Leaning forward you press a kiss to the delicate skin over his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow heavily under your lips.

When you look at hom again his eyebrows are still furrowed and warm palm finds your cheek. “I’m sorry, I reacted like that to something so small.”

You shake your head and nuzzle into his hold, giving a little kiss to his thumb. There's desperation in his eyes and you whish you could kiss it away.

“I’m sorry, ‘m all kinds of fucked up, ‘luv. Wouldn’t fault you if it’s too much. If you want to –“ Your hand covers his mouth and his eyes betray the surprise at that gesture.

“Don’t you dare, Si. Don’t you dare even say that. As if I’d want that. You shouldn’t even think that. The only reason why I mind the panic attacks is because I know how heavily they weigh on you. You can flinch, you can scream, you can break, I don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, if I could I’d make it stop, but I’ll take that as long as I have you in my arms at the end of the day.”

His hand gently draws your hand away from his mouth and he whispers: “But I’m a handful, lovie. How can you not mind the hassle?”

You smile at him, a little mischievously. “Good thing that I’ve got two hands then, baby.”

He snorts, while his entire face softens, and draws you in closer, you're pressed into his chest, his arms around you and he showers your head with kiss after kiss.

“I thought you were going to leave me.”, comes your muffled voice abruptly halting all of Simon's movement. Gently he pushes you away a bit so you can see his sincerity when he answers.

“Never. As long as you’ll have me.”

Your eyes water and he tilts your head up, with the tip of his finger under your chin, and presses the softest of kisses to your lips. “Don’t care about the flinches and panic attacks and hard moments as long as I get to be in your arms at the end of the day.”

You laugh, when he uses your words against you, a cracked, teary laugh and kiss him again.

“Fuck I need a nap.”, he groans once you’ve managed to stop spelling your love against the lips of each other. You giggle.

“We both do, but drink something first. You’ll wake up with a headache if you don’t.”, you say and he groans with the effort of rolling over and drinking out of the bottle on his nightstand.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, what he did to find someone so caring. Who looks at his hard exterior and handles it with soft touches and patience. He doesn’t know what he did right in his life, because he for sure can’t remember ever doing anything right, to find someone like you. He’s not going to let you go and if he has to beg at some point, then he’ll strangle his pride with his own two hands and do so.

When he faces you again he grins. “Mission accomplished, Sir.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, missing Simon’s soft expression at your flustered state. God you’re so cute. Especially when you’re voice comes out all embarrassed when you say: “You can’t say that! You know what it does to me when you call me that!”

He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close, your bodies fit to each other, immediately finding comfort in each other. And he can feel a wave of calmness crash over him, making him sleepy and slow. “Ya can do something ‘bout that when we wake up. Don’t think my soldier’s up to doing any long marches right now.”

He’s expecting it when your hand wriggles free and slaps his shoulder. “Simon!” You can feel his upper body shake with silent laughter.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Si.”

Your eyes are heavy, your muscles finally relaxing after all that tension of earlier. Your bodies melt into each other. You can feel Simon’s breathing getting slower, a telltale sign of him falling asleep.

“I love you.”, you mumble again before sleep takes you.

Simon’s too far gone to reply but you feel the two squeezes of his hand on you, pressing his love directly into your skin.

#the sewer writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #hurt and comfort #simon x gn!reader #simon riley x gn! reader #gn! reader #hurt/comfort #panic attack #mentions of being hurt in the past #cod simon #cod ghost x reader #cod simon riley x reader

106 notes · View notes

thelifeofsharks · 9 months

Text

I’ve been thinking about writing this for a couple of days now, debating as to whether I should say anything publicly but I feel I should as nobody seems to talk about this.

Firstly, can I just say how much we (Sophie and I) love you guys. We wouldn’t be making these comics if we didn’t have an audience and we appreciate you enormously. Thank you.

A few days ago someone posted one of our comics to a Facebook group with about a million followers. The credits had been cropped out and we weren’t credited by the poster. In fact, they blocked us so nobody could tag us. One of our followers took a screen shot of it and sent it to us and by then it had gotten over 100k likes and tens of thousands of shares. Far more than ANY of our comics have ever received on our own page. It’s very disheartening and frustrating to see that people like our work but just not when we have our name on it or post it on our own account.

We had the comic taken down (it took 7 attempts with Facebook) and had some other ones taken down on similar pages and groups. After that we had a barrage of angry and abusive messages, comments and emails from the owners of these pages. One of their arguments was, “Don’t you want people to share your comics?”. The answer is yes…and no.

We love when our followers share our content. LOVE IT. It’s brilliant. There’s a share button at the bottom of every post of ours. Please smash that button for all you are worth. It helps us out enormously.

BUT there are a great number of Facebook pages and Instagram accounts that just steal our stuff (and other comics) and post them without permission or credit and then monetise it. You’ve all seen them. They have names like “Daily Funny Comic” or “The Funniest Cat Videos”. Their whole reason for being is stealing other people’s content and then selling stuff in the link at the top of their account. There are groups of people making huge amounts of money doing this.

I’ve had a load of abusive messages from people who run these accounts, accusing me of stopping them from making a living because their page is now under review. A living made solely on the back of exploiting other people’s work. I’d ask you not to follow or subscribe to these pages. It’s a whole industry now, built on monetising other people’s work with nothing paid to the original artists. And before anyone comments saying it’s great exposure, it’s not about exposure. It’s the principle of people’s work being exploited for financial gain with the artist getting nothing.

So for those people running those accounts, I will report it to Facebook. I don’t owe you a living. Everyone else, please feel free to share our comics. We thank you so much for doing so.

Also we have a shop if you’d like a t-shirt or a book. We make everything ourselves. Baby needs shoes.

#comic #sharks #the life of sharks #sharks comic #cartoon #humour #webcomic #comics #humor #funny #intellectual property #copyright #aggregators #theft

368 notes · View notes

itsabouttimex2 · 28 days

Note

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE YOUR AU!!!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! op, your ideas are fantastic, you're really creative and an awesome writer!! 💫🌟

The monkiefam dynamic is so fun to read about — and pretty sad in MK's case, the poor guy.

Hopefully it's not too dark of a question, but how brutal does MK get during the primal moon? If he gets too violent with reader, does Wukong or Mac try stopping him or would they just let the natural pecking order happen?

I feel so bad for him, he's is gonna have a hell of a time acknowleding all the stuff he did during the primal moon week :/

Thank you so much, that means a lot to me! I’m glad people like my silly little things! (UPDATED to add a few extra characters!)

Thankfully for Y/N, MK isn’t too brutal- I don’t think they’ll come out with anything worse than a sprained wrist or ankle. The trauma will persist far beyond their injuries, however. When the last green moon of the week fades, he’s positively distraught.

Lining his hand curiously up to a slap mark on Y/N’s cheek to check it, tears brimming in his eyes when it lines up too perfectly to be a coincidence.

I don’t know whether he heartbrokenly distances himself or tries to make up for it with extreme smothering. The poor kid just wanted to spend what was supposed to “just another green moon” with one of his best friends.

And as for Macaque, though he’d really like to help Y/N… he just doesn’t have the ranking. MK is above him in the hierarchy, so he genuinely can’t do anything to upset or piss him off. This only that accomplishes is him getting smacked around right beside Y/N. All he can really do for them is apply herbal balm and bandages after the fact. If he hasn’t had a deal applied to his powers yet, Macaque might think about trying his shadow portals, but… it’s probably better not to risk having two angry monkeys on his tail, demanding to know where he’s hidden their beloved cub/rookie.

Sun Wukong is crazy delusional under the moon’s influence- to him, Y/N getting thrown and tosses all around is just “playfighting”, so he won’t interfere until after things get genuinely harmful. The moment he hears his little “cub” scream and start to cry, Old Sun is there in a second, bringing them into his arms and cooing softly. If they come to him begging for protection and use a “Bàba” to sweeten the deal, they’ll have his shelter for a number of hours, so it’s not impossible to get away from MK… just very hard.

And even after learning that something as severe as a broken wrist has occurred, Wukong coddles MK and forgives him on your behalf, writing the whole thing off as an accident. Not that you get any less smothering then him- you’re now stuck in bed with stuff bandages and surrounded by young mountain monkeys and sweet fruit. In a way, it saves you from any further rough play.

All three of them are dangerous in their own ways, of course. None are outright above “disciplining” you, with slaps or bites or shoves. There’s no bone-shattering or flesh-tearing, but they make you afraid that there will be.

———————————————————————

After the Primal Moon ends, there’s a lot of patching-up to do afterwards. For example…

Pigsy has to come down from the constant self-drugging, taking more than a few hours to compose himself and make the rounds with his friends, calling them all up in short order. Once he’s gotten through everyone- Tang, Sandy, Mei, even her parents… then he spends a few minutes making sure he hasn’t gored any holes into his restaurant. Unlocks the windows and doors, but doesn’t flip the open sign.

He’s not up to deal with customers right now. All he wants is to check on his kids.

He’ll take MK and you out to eat today, he thinks. You’ve both earned it, after a week of isolation up in your shared room, under strict instructions to stay inside and come down for no one and nothing.

Red Son is always horribly humiliated when everything is said and done, a groaning and red-faced mess of shame. Another week of essentially devolving into a child, desperate for love and attention. Another, slow, grudging week of constant begging for skinship and words of praise. Needless to say, he’s pissed off and looking for an outlet, and beating on the numerous Bull Clones just doesn’t seem all too enticing… when he’s got a much squishier target who’ll actually squirm and yelp?

Sure, he’s not going to outright mangle you. No permanent burns. No shattered spine. And he’ll take pity on you eventually and stop with the torment. After a few months, he might even start to like you.

Let’s hope you get there mostly unscathed.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Primal Moon #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere MK #Yandere Macaque #Yandere Pigsy #Yandere Red Son #Monkiefam

59 notes · View notes

leesjuicycalves · 2 months

Text

*Isn't he lovely?

As the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains of your room, illuminating a soft melancholic glow in it you shifted under the covers dreading on why you hadn’t draped them the previous night. The light was the last thing you wanted to see, really! Groaning in irritation and exhaustion you decided against your desires and left the bed in a freakishly slow pace only to be met with dizziness and drowsiness, the weight of your own body pulling you right back in bed as you fell with a soft thud. Okay, maybe having four bottles of beer alone in your dark room before bed wasn’t a good idea. With shaky hands you reach out for the glass of water that is dangerously sitting on your nightstand to parch your dry throat. Your body doesn’t give you a break even then, your head pounding hard like a relentless drumbeat. Yeah, drinking before bed was really not a smart idea. Well your month ago self would have told you that, but you caged her in. The current you doesn’t give a shit about the consequences of your actions and is sure you are gonna do the same again tonight, just like you’ve been doing for the past weeks. You lazily drag yourself downstairs kicking away the empty bottles of beer scattered on the floor so you can try and have breakfast. Keyword, try. Nothing tastes good to you anymore, nothing but beer and your little fried cashew nuts. That’s what you’ve been living on for the past month. Even as you scan your kitchen for something healthier, your hands automatically grab the last bag of cashews you have left and a bottle of beer in the fridge and you head over to the couch. Where you’ll be spending your day and then head right back upstairs to finish the last few bottles of beer you have.

There’s a crappy show playing on your TV that you don’t even remember playing the previous night, a woman, probably the main character, smiling to herself yapping something in her monologue about being content that she’s glad she has someone who could care for her, love her and cherish her. To be cared for, you didn’t know how that felt.

When the year began you thought you’d have your life fully under control. No storms, no emotional outbursts, just a smooth life and probably a happy one too. It begun like that actually, it began with you finding love, finding someone that could understand you. Having Minho in your life was as great as you’d have imagined; he was sweet, kind, hot and sexy. Basically the type of guys you were into. You had everything under control as the year began, smooth sailing and all, with Minho by your side. But then you started to feel overwhelmed, falling victim under the suffocating weight of expectations and obligations particularly from your mother who seemed to be short of lacking criticism in any sort of thing. She always had something to complain about, something to observe and put in her views and perspectives. One day it would be about how you don’t call them often anymore, or how you’ve been too much in social media; with the posts your uploading instead of working, and on the days she had that ‘mother attitude’ it would be to comment on how your boyfriend looks more like a fuckboy rather than a life partner and how you take care of him and the strangers in the city more than them.

But you did take care of them, you really did. From the day you got your first salary, your first paycheck. Heck you’ve been taking care of them ever since you realized how far your roles of the eldest daughter go. You always listened when she complained about how her business is not doing okay, about how she’s running low on sales stocks and about how stingy her husband is. Always listened when she said she had no sister figure in her life to share stuff with but now she can do that with her daughter. Always listened when she talked about how well your sisters were doing in college and high school. Always listened when she made comments on how fat or thin you’ve gotten. You always listened. Your dad, you were close with each other, had nothing much to complain about him. He was just an over achiever and too much of a planner perfectionist.

“You should have stayed back here Y/N instead of going to the city. That spot in that law firm my friend once offered me is still free. You could make a lot out of it, there’s nothing serious out there if you ask me. This was a sure bet job sweetie.” He had said one day through a phone call that was supposed to be you telling him the exciting news of how you won your first case in a while. He was the kind of person that always wanted things to go according to his plans.

Your sisters would call you day in and out, talking about their days in school. Saying how they wished they had so and so, how mom and dad are still as stingy as ever since you moved away from home. How their allowances got reduced. How they wished they were you and had the freedom to do whatever they wanted.

But did you even want to be you at this point? Everything was beginning to feel like it was too much, too little, not right. Maybe your dad was right, you should have stayed back with them and taken the offer he had given you since there were no more job offers for you that seemed to be coming up. Maybe your mom was also right, you don’t take care of them enough, you have to do more, you have to be more.

But when would they listen to you, when would they stand by what you chose for once, when would they appreciate what you’ve already done or at least tried to do even if it was just a little bit? When would they also listen to what you have to say? When would they take care of you in that way?

Sure you had Minho but he was also a man of his own before you, he also had a family that needed him, he also had stuff going on. You weren’t his 24 hour responsibility. Knowing how this overwhelming feeling felt made you not wanna dump it on someone else, you’d rather handle it on your own just as you’ve always done. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past month, handling your situation. You had had blacklisted your parents and sisters not wanting to hear from them anymore, just for the while, until you got your shit back together. Hidden yourself from the world since you basically hadn’t picked any calls from your friends or even Minho, not gone outside for the past weeks, not breathed in that fresh cool air from outside. You were under house arrest, by your own will. The only logical way for you to handle your situation.

The silence in your room strings you away from your thoughts, the TV is dead silent and the lights in the kitchen were off. Maybe there was a power surge or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t paid this month’s electricity bill. You couldn’t care less anyways since you found the dark way more comforting these days.

Your cashews are done, there’s nothing left in the package. Your beer is halfway done too and you have to pee but you don’t feel like getting up from the comfortable position you’re in on the couch. “Guess I’ll just have to if I don’t wanna ruin my couch,” again you move at a really slow pace heading for the bathroom to ease yourself.

“Darn it with the fucking lights,” is the first thing that slips from your mouth when you walk down the hallway back to the living room. You hear clanking noises coming from the kitchen and you are slightly shocked to find Minho standing in front of your kitchen sink wearing your lavender apron and doing you’re two weeks old or so dishes. He seemed to be too immersed in whatever he was doing to even notice your disheveled-self standing there, you take a quick glance at yourself and realize how pathetic you look in your baggy blue sweats, your stained t shirt and your tangled up dry and obviously dirty hair. You clear your throat in a low but audible voice and Minho turns to look at you only after he’s finished the washing the last dish in the sink. He stares at you for a whole minute without saying anything, the two of you awkwardly standing there in the kitchen area. He blinks once, twice, thrice then a couple of more times under the long bangs of his hair and mutters a hello which you return with a curt nod. He turns away from you and proceeds to move about in the kitchen. ‘It’s been that long?’ You think to yourself, you stare back at Minho. He grew his hair out, you’ve been away for so fucking long that he grew his hair out. You retrieve your eyes from him and decide to go back to the couch seeing that you had nothing to say to each other.

He cleaned the living room coffee table, in that short amount of time you went to the bathroom, he cleaned it all. The beer you had left earlier was no longer there and your empty nut bag was gone. You glance over at Minho in the kitchen and sigh, maybe the TV is working now that the lights are back on. You scroll the available channels and decide to stop at one that has its program read; Just for Laughs but youre too lost in youre thoughts once again to concentrate on what’s playing. Minho probably thinks you’re a loser, he probably thinks youre a burden. A dirty lazy burden that he has for a girlfriend who can’t even take care of herself alone. He probably wants to end things, you don’t deserve him. He needs better, he needs someone who can handle their shit in a mature way. You look down at your stained shirt once again and sigh. He definitely deserves better than this, better than you. You know you’ve inconvenienced his schedule by making him be here, he had better, important things to do. Why is he here in the first place?

Before your thoughts go on any further, you feel a presence loom over you and a delicious smell of freshly made food hits your nostrils.

“Eat this, you need it.” Minho says in a stern but soft voice handing you the bowl.

You don’t look up at him because you’re afraid you’ll cry when you do, so you just keep staring at your feet and shake your head no. You hear him sigh and it just makes your thoughts spiral the more. You see his feet move about and the in the next minute he is sitting on the floor and looking at you from below. You turn away quickly but not quick enough as he pulls your chin to face him again with a spoonful of his homemade meal in front of your mouth, he gives you a stern look and you have no choice but to open your mouth and take what he gives you. The both of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, the room only filled with the sound of you chewing and swallowing and the sounds of the spoon hitting the glass bowl every time Minho scoops another portion until you’ve completely emptied the bowl. He then gets up to get you glass of water and disappears upstairs leaving you alone with your thoughts again.

“Did you shower today?” Minho asks when he comes back down stairs a little sweat dripping from his forehead, is long bangs sticking to it and a plastic bag in his hands filled with your empty beer bottles. You timidly shake your head embarrassed of your state. He makes haste to dispose the bag and comes right back inside to lead you up to you room.

“I can bathe myself,” is what you tell Minho when you see him take his clothes off.

“I need a shower too. Am all sweaty from cleaning those smelly beer bottles,” he says, with no malice or disgust really, just a plain comment but you wince at that statement and only hum taking off your dirty outfit. You turn your back on him hoping he’s not looking at you. You’ve lost weight, your collar bone is more prominent, you don’t want him to see you like that he might get more disgusted; you think. You very slowly slide your sweats off your legs and squat by your bed to fold it even though it’s going in the hamper. Minho is still shuffling around the room probably putting a towel on. You want him to take a shower first and leave you alone in the bathroom to probably cry out the tears you’ve been holding back ever since he came to you today but he has other plans.

He comes right behind you and snatches the piece of clothing that is neatly folded and sitting still on your bed with your shaky fingers still pressing over it. He throws it into the hamper beside him.

“That’s no use, get up,” and you do while trying to cover up you’re naked self with the knee length towel you have on but Minho tosses it on the bed seeing no use of keeping it on. You both make it into the bathroom where the beautiful scent of lavender and vanilla engulfs your senses, the room aglow with soft candlelight casting and flickering shadows on the wall making it feel like a sanctuary of relaxation. You turn to face Minho who smiles at you softly and gestures you to step into the bathtub adorned with radiant jasmine petals floating delicately on the bubbled water. You sink into the lukewarm water and your shoulders instantly relax, you close your eyes and sigh in ease feeling a wave of tranquility wash over you. Something you haven’t felt in days. Minho lovingly stares at you by the bathroom door his eyes shimmering with happiness to see you at ease, his heart filling with satisfaction and pride. Your eyes shoot open when you feel the water move and Minho sits in front of you, his hands search yours under the water and he holds them tight fearing he might lose you if he lets go. His feline eyes stare into your soul telling you in every way how he missed you and how he loves you more than he has ever done anyone in his lifetime. His eyes tell you how important you are too him and how he wouldn’t know how to move on without you in his life, his touch speaks multitude of the depth of affection he has for you, the security he’s willing to offer you, that you crave for.

And you cage, completely crashing. Tears begin to violently flow from your eyes as tiny sobs escape your lips mumbling bits of ‘am sorry’ and ‘thank yous’ to him but he doesn’t let you cry quickly pressing his forehead onto yours as his thumbs wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here. Waiting to take care of you to cherish you and keep you safe. I’ll carry your burdens for you no matter what, mmh?” He tells you softly and you can feel the truth in his voice, the firmness and dedication of his words. You cry harder, full on weeping on his bare chest and this time he decides to let you do so rubbing soothing circles on your back and gently stroking your hair occasionally pouring water on your back with the small of his hand. And after you’re done crying he kisses you so sweetly, so softly, as if you were a glass doll that would break if he were to press harder on your lips. He kisses the overwhelming feelings away, he kisses the stress away and erases the weight of the world, your worries and your fears. His kiss is another reassuring promise of comfort in the midst of your chaos. His lips brush against yours and the world seems to be on pause, there’s nothing more you feel at the moment apart from him, his warmth, his soft touch, his love.

Minho pulls you closer to him so that you are fully sitting on his lap under the jasmine bubbles, youre lips detach from his and he pecks your nose and flashes you a smile showing his two front bunny teeth and you mirror his smile feeling like a whole new person. He suddenly stands with you still in his arms but his grip on your thighs tighter than before and steps out of the tub whilst peppering soft kisses on all over your face eliciting giggles from you.

“Min, we’re wet don’t-” you try to protest as he lays you on your bed not willing to part his lips from your body.

“I missed you so much, let me take care of you,” he says in a husky voice his lips trailing lower and stopping at the bridge of your breasts to look up at you and you now see how his eyes are brazen with lust. Seeing that you had no oppositions to his current actions he went ahead and took one of your breasts in his mouth sucking and kissing all over, his front teeth lightly nibbling on your hardened nipple. His other hand delicately pinching your other nipple twisting and turning it between his thumb and index finger. His touch made you quite sensitive since it truly had been long since you felt him in this sense. You don’t get much time to relish in the feeling of his lips on your breasts as you feel his tongue glide past your tummy and stop just on top of your waist.

“So pretty,” he coos as his fingers spread your slick wet folds flicking at it now and then.

“M-min,” you breath out not really knowing what you want him to do, your brain completely fuzzy with lust and desires. But he knows exactly what you need and he gives you that. His tongues delves right into your leaking cunt and he licks and sucks like a starved man, which in true sense he was. Not being able to hear from you or see you for an entire month had made him worried sick out of his mind, he had missed you, had missed every aspect of you. And now that he had you, he would show you, he would make you feel how he’d missed you so much.

“So sweet love, so fucking sweet,” he mumbles against you and you cum instantly with a loud cry of his name, but that doesn’t make him stop. Minho continues to lap at your folds taking in every drop of your release making you squirm above him as you try to push his head away. “Sens-sensitive Minho. Mmmh,” you cry out and he only looks up when he’s sure he is done and had enough of you, for now.

“I love you, so much.” He speaks against your lips and kisses them more fervently tongue gliding over your lip asking for entrance and as soon you grant him that, he sucks on your tongue even harder. His hands don’t stay in one place, roaming your body, groping any piece of flesh that is able to fit in his hand. He has his hand on your breasts, your thighs, your tummy and your ass. Your hands too caress his soft firm chest and back, gripping the hairs on the back of his neck each time he sucks on your lips and tongue. They glide all over his body then your fingertips brush past his tip and he winces biting your tongue and the sound you make after that makes him harder than he already was.

“Baby, I need you. Fucking now,”

“Me too Min, please,” you say in a desperate whine now fully grabbing at the base of his crotch.

Minho was definitely gonna show you how much he missed you, savor every part of you, make you feel what you really were to him. Special and important, and he wanted to make sure that by the end of it all you knew. He quickly turned so that now you were above him, your folds grazing his thick pink leaking tip. As you were about to lower yourself on his waiting dick he spun you around so that your ass was facing him and you were directly looking into the floor length mirror in front of your bed.

“Min-Minho, lemme look at you. I wanna see you,” you say hesitantly as you try to get back to your previous position but Minho pushes you down and the tip of his shaft pokes at your hole. “F-fuck!”

“I want you to see how pretty you are and how you deserve to be taken care of. You need to see how I take care of you,” he says so calmly as if he isn’t sinking his cock into your tight wet cunt. You mewl at his words and grip on his thick thighs as he slides you down further into his cock, his gaze is intent on the scene before him. Your body is jerked forward so that your back is slightly arching and Minho gets a first row sit to how you are taking him so well.

“Fuck, youre so fucking tight,” he grunts as youre now completely on top of him. You on the other hand are struggling between keeping your vision away from the mirror and not screaming at the fullness of Minho. He then pulls you back softly by the back of your neck and you lay your head on his shoulder, mouth hanging open groaning in pure pleasure.

“Baby, open your eyes for me,” he coos right against your ears and you have no choice but to do so, you are met with the erotic sight of your naked body against his, his hands holding both your breasts and squeezing them promptly each time he thrusted into you.

“You….are perfect…and deserve to be taken care of,” he thrusts into you with a grunt, “You deserve the whole world and back and I’ll give you all that baby” he thrusts harder than the last time and you mewl biting your lower lip. His left hand leaves your breasts and comes to gently caress your folds.

“Let me hear you baby.” You moan out his name the minute he lightly pinches your clit and that encourages him to rub faster and thrust harder. With his right hand playing with your nipple, his left hand rubbing at your folds and his dick hitting all the right places in you there was no way you could last long and so you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done when with him. You come calling out his name and he encourages you to finish, still drawing circles at your lower lips, with little praises of ‘you did well’ and ‘you’re perfect’. He also immediately releases into you biting into the side of your neck then falling back on the bed with you still on top of him, he still holds you, embracing you and the moment you just shared.

He later carries you back to the bathroom and washes both of you off. He has you back to your old self again, giggling like a teenage girl that just discovered their first love. You are grateful for him, you really are and maybe you could handle things in a better way. You could handle your problems with Minho. He was the one to listen to you, to take care of you just as you did for everyone else. He was the one to make you feel like you were enough and so much more.

As you lay in your bed both cuddling against each other comfortable in each other’s warmth, Minho promises again to be there for you and to take care of you and you promise to tell him when it gets too much so you can get through it together.

“Minho,” you call him as sweetly as he would you.

“Mmmmh,”

“I love you more.”

#stray kids #skz imagines #stray kids x you #skz x y/n #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #indie thoughts

78 notes · View notes