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transmascissues · 2 months

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it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it #some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively #but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much #maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk #but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t #ask answered #testosterone #hrt #ftm hrt #hair loss #trans men #transmascs

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m-ayo-o · 3 months

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HIIII, I've been thinking in reader wanting to ride megumi's face but she is so shy to ask but somehow megumi finds out what she wanna do😋😼

somehow? he knows. he's a smart guy ;) 18+ ! watching porn, masturbation mention, oral, afab reader x 21+ megumi

You can't articulate it. Every time he goes down on you... you want more? Sure, he encourages you to move your hips. He grabs your body as he kneels between your legs on the bed and drags you closer, sucking and making out with your pussy.

But after watching a certain pornographic educational video... you're starting to desire what you saw. A girl- a very pretty girl- climbed up on her partner's lap, then he pulled her higher, over his chest, then higher- over his face!?

Won't she suffocate him like that? How can he--

But when you hear the audio of the man moaning, you know he can breathe just fine- and if he can't? He sure as hell doesn't care.

And since watching that video, sliding your fingers down between your wet folds, you can't get the idea out of your head. In every intimate instance with your sweet boyfriend you want to bring it up, but you just can't.

He notices your hips bucking with such need- it seems to be growing every time you do this together; every time he pleasures you. But he pins you down and holds you still, sucking and licking you so thoroughly.

Had he considered pulling you up to perch on his chin? Sure. But will he do it... without being asked? Perhaps not.

You'd love it, surely? Or would you be too embarrassed and tell him to stop? That could potentially ruin the mood, so he keeps quiet for now, pressing himself further into you and humming contently.

"Ngh- Megumi?"

"Mm?"

"C-can we try... a different position?"

Uh.

"What position, princess?"

Could you be any less specific?

Do you want him to push you back, tilt your body up with your ass in the air and he's kneeling over you, sinking his tongue in from above?

Or... on your knees? With his face smushed into you from behind? He's sure he could manage that.

Maybe you want to sit on the edge of the bed, with your legs spread?

You stare right into his eyes for a moment, until he pops his lips from you and sits on his haunches.

"Baby, what is it?"

I can't read your mind, dammit.

You wish he could.

Your eyes flit over his gorgeous features, you bite your lip and grip at the sheets. He sees your shyness, your inability to express your needs... and he guesses. It's a hunch. But in all honesty, he thinks, what girl wouldn't want this?

He lies down on the bed and watches your eyes go wide with shock.

"Come on, sweetie," he pats his chest, gesturing for you to sit up there.

He moves you up by tugging your thighs, now you're sitting over him with a certain look in your eyes that confirms all of his thoughts.

"Sit on my face."

He tells you to do it, and you swear you're going to lose all of your self control. You perch up there like it's your damn throne and he makes you so comfortable you start to run your fingers into his black hair and admire that pretty face of his.

And he can't help it now, licking you and pressing his tongue up and into you, swirling around the bud of your clit and through your folds. It's addicting, the way you start to move, and the view he has- good god- your stomach and tits have never looked more sexy. He holds your waist and encourages you to move. You have no idea what you're doing, but fuck it feels so good and you can't stop.

"Mmmhmm- that's it princess-"

He feels you getting closer. He knows the look on your face now- how your eyebrows arch with concentration and your back gets a little stiff. He can feel every muscle in your cute body... he knows the dips and rises like the back of his hand.

"Cum on me, hm?"

He's asking you to. And you can't keep him waiting.

"M- mhm- Megumi-- y-you're too good at this-!"

He knows.

"Haha, you're so cute-"

He watches you steady yourself and eventually slow down, as your hips still over his face.

"Next time... just ask me, okay?"

Guessing is fun. But taking orders? That's hot.

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi <3 #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro imagine #megumi fushiguro x reader

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hotyanderedaddies · 1 month

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The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 4:

Yandere Bully Interrupts Your "Date"

Part 0 │ Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Jonathan was a nice guy, you figured.

The quarterback of the football team was always all smiles, and he seemed to never treat you differently despite being way higher up on the social ladder. Therefore, you sort of liked to tutor him. Not only did it feel like you were sometimes hanging out with a close friend, but it also made you feel good deep down that a guy was paying you some attention... even if it was just for school. But still.

And plus, you figured that he could potentially protect you from Blake.

Seriously, it was crystal clear that Jonathan lived in the gym after school, given his large muscles and athletic prowess.

Blake is muscular too, but he tends to hide his bulk underneath his leather jacket.

But still!

You tried your best to force your mind away from Blake as you and Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. It was a small place where the two of you could be uninterrupted during your study session. It was one of the few local spots where Jonathan would treat you as payment for tutoring him, and you'd always order something sweet and tasty!

The two of you took your seats at one of the booths near the back, and your eyes stayed glued to the door. The constant fear of Blake finding you kept you on edge, and you found it hard to stay present with your brain always straying back to the bully.

You mentally berated yourself, annoyed that you kept thinking about Blake.

He'd claimed you as his, and you'd gotten three strikes.

Both of those spelt trouble in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to avoid the guy. Therefore, you figured that being away from school with someone big who could protect you was the best course of action.

Jonathan and you placed your orders and tried to start the tutoring session, but it was close to impossible for you to get your nerves settled.

"Is something on your mind?" the jock finally asked when he'd noticed you staring nervously at the door for the millionth time.

"O-oh!" you mumbled, jerking out of your panicked daze. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little... distracted." You sheepishly smiled at the end of your statement, hoping that the jock wouldn't catch onto you inadvertently using him as protection.

Jonathan pursed his lips into a thin line, deep in thought. "So," he slowly asked, shrugging his broad shoulders, "is it Blake?"

You jerked back in your seat, shocked. "Wh-what do you mean?" you stuttered, trying your best to force an innocent smile onto your face.

Jonathan scrunched up his face in confusion. "Oh, my bad," he muttered. "I just thought that you two were having couple problems."

"'Couple problems'?" you repeated.

Jonathan shrugged again. "Well, yeah," he grunted. "I mean, by the way Blake talks about you, I thought the two of you were dating..."

"The way he talks about me?" you repeated again, feeling yourself go pale at the words you heard.

Never in your life would you have ever expected Blake to talk about you in any sort of positive manner. You always tried to avoid him like the plague, hence you'd preferred if he didn't know that you existed. But if he were to talk about you, you half-expected him to curse your name and call you the scum of the earth given how badly he's beaten people up all around you.

Thinking about it, there were several of Blake's victims you knew personally:

Kyle, the bully who's stolen your lunch money back in the sixth grade. He'd gotten his face beaten to a pulp, causing his nose to be a little crooked now.

Tristan, the guy who'd called you ugly on picture day. Blake had based his face so hard that his front teeth had been knocked up, totally ruining his picture.

Cesar, the douche who'd smashed your science project to smithereens for a YouTube prank. Well, Blake had filmed himself stomping him in the nuts, posting it to Cesar's now defunct account.

Wait...

"Wh-what has Blake said... about me?" you asked, feeling your heart fall to the floor as you thought everything over. It all had to be a coincidence, right?

The waitress delivered your food, distracting the jock for a second as he began to eat his fries. "Oh, um, he says lots of things about you," he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

That didn't really help.

"Like what?" you pressed.

The jock took a loud gulp of his soda. "Well, he says that he--"

He was cut off by the loud slamming of the front door. The both of you were altered to the booming noise, making you both flinch as you turned to see none other than Blake enter the tiny diner.

The bully's eyes scanned the area before landing on you, narrowing in your direction.

Uh-oh...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

I'm sorry about the lack of tagging people! I'm forever and always appreciative of everyone's interest in this story. Unfortunately, I just can't tag everyone at the moment. I apologize and hope you all understand!

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere daddy #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #yandere bully #yandere bad boy #yandere bad boy x you #bad boy x nerd #bad boy #blake the bully #my oc #Blake

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mellowsaturns · 1 year

Text

for you, anything

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

warnings: fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

wc: 900

—

After spending years and years fighting to survive a cordyceps apocalypse and tolerating a totalitarian government regime, you were no stranger to hardship. But it seemed like one thing has finally gotten to you, something that had you weak and bedridden for days now, something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it happened—you had managed to catch a common cold.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the combination of a sore throat, the inability to breathe, the stuffy nose and constant chills was making you feel awful.

The door opens and on a normal day, you would’ve been alert and ready for any potential intruders but you had no energy left and besides, you knew who it was just by the creaks of the floorboard.

You peek out from the corner of your eyes and Joel was leaning against the wall at the end of your bed, looking at you in pity.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pulling the thin blanket over your head.

That garnered a small chuckle from him. “Didn’t even say anything,” he said.

“You didn’t need to,” you murmured.

Feeling the bed dip with his pressure, he pulled the cover away. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” you replied as he brought his hand up to feel your forehead. “I can feel a major headache forming,” you added with a pout.

“Poor baby,” he cooed.

You gave him a weak punch in the arm. “You dick, if you’re here to make fun of me just leave.”

He snickered for a bit, clearly enjoying this before mellowing. “Here,” he said, handing you a paper bag you didn’t even know he was holding.

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion you took a peek inside. “Joel,” you gasped, “How did you manage to get these?”

Because inside the bag were different envelopes of white pills and packets of powdered electrolytes, everything you needed to help you get through a cold—probably way past its expiration date, but still, these were highly prized. You would have had to work months just to get enough rations for these items. And Joel just handed you these…

“Are you seriously questioning my skills?”

You scoffed. “No. But you really didn’t have to get all these for me. I would have gotten better with time.” And you know that he knows it too, but he still got these things for you because he knew it would help alleviate the pain even if it was for a little bit. And no matter how much he downplays it, you know how hard it must’ve been for him to get these items. You know because you’re in this business with him.

You couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips. “But… Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.” For always taking care of me.

He hummed and looked away, embarrassed at the gratitude you were giving him. Getting up, he headed to the living room and grabbed you a bottle of water.

“Let me,” he offered, before placing the bottle on your bedside and helping you sit straight. He popped the medicine onto your palm and you swallowed them down. And maybe it was the placebo effect but you were feeling better already—or maybe it was just the fact that Joel was here.

Sometimes, he really was the best medicine.

Suddenly, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Here.”

You frowned in confusion before a surprised expression spread all over. “Joel…” you whispered.

Turning the package in your hand, you examined its content and the slight wrinkles of the plastic. He had managed to find you a bag of those hard fruity candies that you once loved when the world wasn’t in ruins—something you had forgotten until now. Something meaningless you told him all those years ago when you first got to know each other and reminisced about the good old days.

You wanted to cry. He went through all this effort just to make your life a little easier and joyful when you know it made his life a little harder.

When you looked up at him, he gave you a shy smile. “Thought it might make you happy.”

You were beaming. And if you weren’t sick, you’d kiss him.

He started taking off his shoes when you stopped him. “Joel, I’m sick.”

He scoffed, as if you said something absurd. “Move over,” he grunted, hogging the spot next to you and getting underneath the covers.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I kinda miss this you know,” you whispered. Because even though you were wrapped in his jacket he gave you a few days ago, in which he insisted you wear because your blanket was too thin, it just wasn’t the same.

He made a noise in agreement and minutes later, he was snoring.

It’s been three days since you caught a cold, hence, three days since you’ve been fully in his presence. It only occurred to you now that he didn’t stay away because he was scared of catching it, but that he spent all that time working and doing what he does best. All because of you—all for you.

All you could do was admire him as moonlight gently graced the features of his face.

When you got better, you’d give him that kiss he deserved.

#self indulgent bc i am sick and feel awful #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x you

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bunny-yan · 3 months

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Didn't Tasman always married some other girl in all the previous timelines? I think lover is justified in not trusting him one bit. Imagine if she throws that fact in his face and how all she ever wanted is someone loyal and he's never loyal to her while she always was.

You are just begging to make him angry aren't you? Our hero doesn't like to be questioned. TW: mentions of abuse, depictions of violence, language, mentions death,

—

You stared. You didn’t know what else to do when he presented you with a simple ring etched with declarations of love and devotion.

His eyes were shining, hopeful as he knelt and presented it to you.

Onlookers whispered, most stopping to witness history being made. The world’s hero was proposing to an average commoner after all. You could see the looks of disgust on the faces of his party members as they watched the tragic display.

You felt your stomach clench painfully, the butterflies more like cicadas fighting desperately to be freed from such a narrow space. Your hands were clammy as you wrung them together, you felt lightheaded, and it took every fiber of your being to prevent yourself from passing out from pure shock.

Why would he do something like this after the screaming fit the two of you had the night before? It was hardly a good sign that it was time to spend the rest of your lives together. Especially considering how that fight ended.

You didn’t want to think about the bruises that were hidden underneath the long-sleeved tunic you were wearing despite the blazing temperatures. If you thought about the terrible words whispered harshly in your ear, the rough hands, you thought you’d puke and ruin this heartfelt display.

“I know it took longer than we thought, but I wanted to keep my promise.”

An understatement.

A fucking understatement is what it was. You’d made the promise to grow up and get married to your childhood friend in your first life. To propose talking about an age-old promise, that had been broken as far as you were concerned, felt cruel.

Shaking your head, you tried to keep your voice soft so you didn’t embarrass him and give all of these people another reason to hate you.

“Tasman, don’t do this.”

His eyes shined, if he heard what you said, he didn’t acknowledge it as his smile grew before sealing the nail in your coffin.

“Will you marry me?”

Gasps echoed throughout the crowd, the throng of people desperate to push closer to see who the potential partner their savior was taking, to hear what you would say after being given such an honor. It would be a lie to say that you weren’t hurt by how unimpressed some of them were. You could amount it to jealousy and you were sure that’s what it was, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to blame them when they didn’t know that their hero was a monster disguised as a saint. And how could they? He’d kept it so well hidden, even you didn’t find out until this lifetime.

It was cruel to abandon you after asking you to wait for him. Marrying another broke your heart, but any hope you had of rekindling anything other than a burning disdain for your childhood friend seemed impossible when your forgiveness was usurped by his selfishness to finally take what he never seemed to want before.

The longer you stood there, awkwardly staring at him, the louder the whispers grew.

His bright smile waned and stress began to appear on his features. Why weren’t you accepting? He’d finally done the one thing the two of you wanted. It should’ve made you happy. Why weren’t you happy?

“Lover?” he said, voice strained as he debated to stand or remain kneeling.

You shook your head again. Overwhelmed by feelings that hit you like a freight train you whipped around before almost running away. The crowd parted to let you through, finally silent as they looked at their savior, struck dumb, still on his knees as he watched you disappear.

It was the wrong move.

You should’ve gratefully accepted his offer, hiding the disgusting feelings from sight until you could tell him, behind closed doors, just how you felt about even the thought of marrying him.

Instead, you ran. It was dumb. It was stupid to believe that you would have time to process your feelings before confronting him and when a hand caught your elbow just as you reached the door to the inn you rarely got a chance to leave, the ominous feeling in your gut solidified as you looked back and stared into unquestionably angry purple eyes.

You were dragged to your prison faster than you could stumble behind him and you winced when your knee banged on the stairs. He didn’t slow down, refusing to let you go until you were shoved inside the bedroom.

“Do you insist on making a fool of me?”

“I don’t know what you expected me to say.”

“Was a simple ‘yes’ too much to ask for?”

It was, but you didn’t tell him that. Staring at the floor, you rubbed a hand over your face as you tried to make sense of the turmoil you’d been thrown into.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

He grit his teeth, closing the door to your bedroom when familiar voices could be heard entering the common area. Didn’t want them to know about the trouble in paradise, even though it was clear not only from the embarrassing display but from the way the two of you would fight incessantly. About anything and everything since you were brought here.

Taking a deep breath, he walked closer to you before holding your hands in his as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“I thought my feelings were clear.” When you didn’t speak, he continued. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We made a promise to be together when we were younger and I want to make good on it.”

Looking into his eyes, you said, “You remembered.”

A lone tree in your hometown held your initials encased in a heart with his. The two of you promised that you would always be together and that when you got older, you’d spend the rest of your days in love and inseparable.

Narrowing your eyes, you ripped your hands out of his grip. “It’s a little late.” Pacing to the window with Tasman on your heels, you said, “We made that promise ages ago. Lifetimes ago. That tree is dead if it still even exists along with that useless promise.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not too late.”

“It is!” you exclaimed, turning to face him. “I don’t love you Tasman. The days I dreamt of marrying you and spending the rest of our lives together are long gone. They were crushed after you took that vow with someone else.”

“We talked about this,” he said, exasperated.

“And yet I’m still angry.”

“Don’t you realize how selfish you’re being?” And here it was. “Holding on to something that happened in the past when I’m trying to make up for it now. I’m trying to make this work. To make us work and you refuse to stop acting like a spoilt child.”

Typical Tasman. Resorting to calling you selfish whenever he couldn’t comfortably paint himself a victim of circumstance. It was old news. It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did, but the words buried themselves in your skin, threatening to rip out every violent impulse and dig up each insecurity you tried so hard to manage.

“I’m a spoiled child and yet you can’t seem to stop clinging to me despite how much I make it clear that I want nothing to do with you. Your mistakes were in the past? Well, our love is too.”

He slapped you across the face. Hard enough to knock you from your feet. Your knees banged harshly on the carpeted floors and you held your cheek as you looked up at him.

He wasn’t above putting his hands on you, but he’d never done it without warning, without physical resistance on your part.

You stared at him, frozen as he glared down at you.

“You’re acting ridiculous.” Fingers clenching and unclenching, his intimidating figure towered over you as he went on his tirade. “Have you ever thought about how I must’ve felt? Having to leave you behind? Being used as a disposable tool to fight someone else’s battles? I would’ve given anything to stay by your side, to grow up together and live a normal life, but I had to become the hero. To save the world. To save you. I sacrificed my life, my humanity to give you the chance to live freely and you’re whining about not being with me for a couple of lifetimes? I spent decades trying to forget you. Centuries! Long after you disappeared from this world. Because, unlike your existence, the hero’s fate only ends when the world does. Would you have had me tease myself with a glimpse of what happiness could have been like by coming back? Spending a single century by your side before you grew old and left me with memories of what living was?”

For all the pain in his voice, you could only think about how much your jaw ached. How devastated you felt learning of his multitude of affairs. Sure he could claim that none of them mattered, that he was doing it to forget about you, but where did that leave you? Where did it leave the centuries worth of feelings that continued to go unanswered?

Quietly, so softly that it wouldn’t have been heard by anyone other than him, you said, “It took you eight centuries to change your mind?”

You looked at him and something was off about his gaze.

Something was wrong.

What had changed? He’d abandoned you time and time again and only now did he return. He’d spent the last eight lifetimes treating you as a placeholder that he never planned on coming back to. What was so important that forced him to come running back?

Your mouth opened, slack in realization. It made you sick to your stomach to even consider, but you had to know.

“Why don’t you let me go back to my life without you?”

“What life?” he said, spitting out the words as if they were poison in his mouth. “You were an orphan, wanted by no one. You had no friends,” Because of him. “You couldn’t hold down a job.” Because of him. “You couldn’t even manage to find an apprenticeship. You had no future before you met me.”

“At least let me spend eight of my lives fucking other people and we can call it even.” you snapped. You felt fear coil in your stomach at the rage that poured through his gaze as he descended upon you. Grabbing your shirt by the collar he yanked you to your feet before he got in your face.

“You’re mine.” he said with a snarl.

There it was.

The ugly jealousy that reared its head whenever you proposed a life without him. He couldn’t bear to live with the thought of living without you, yet he refused to allow you to live a life where you could potentially forget about him.

You weren’t allowed to move on and experience life. He’d rather go back on his mind-numbingly nonsensical ideals and trap you by his side, even offering something you would’ve cried tears of joy for had it been one lifetime earlier, rather than let you go.

You didn’t think your heart could break further, but you couldn’t help it as you thought of how easily all of this could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t waited. If you would have decided to live instead of wasting away again and again.

Tasman would’ve come running back, both of you surprised and young, eyes unwearied from the knowledge of previous lives, of heartbreak and loneliness.

Of betrayal.

Maybe the two of you would’ve argued, he would claim you broke your promise by not waiting for him and you would argue that you didn’t have to remain trapped in the same town to wait for him to finish fighting and come back to you. Maybe he would’ve gotten angry and insisted that you stay and when you refused, maybe he would’ve offered to bring you with him. Making new promises of protection, promising to help fight each others’ battles, and keeping old ones of loyalty and love.

Thinking about it now, the idea felt like a distant fairytale. An unthinkable possibility looking at the man you no longer loved.

“You’re mine,” he repeated, reaching into his pocket.

You panicked when he pulled out the ring.

“To let every know, we’ll marry and make it the wedding of the century once I defeat the Demon King.”

You tried to tug your wrist out of his grip, but it was like iron. When the ring got closer, you balled your hand into a fist. You knew there was no real point in fighting him, but you had to do whatever it took to prevent this from happening.

Irritant and unwilling to play the kind hero who would never hurt a soul, you screamed as your wrist was crushed in his hand. Your fingers splayed on reflex and he smiled when he was finally able to slide the ring on your finger.

“How lovely,” he hummed almost longingly.

A silent chant set your wrist and he released it to allow you to curl into yourself on the floor. You felt little other than a dull ache, but you couldn’t forget the feeling of your wrist shattering that quickly.

“Don’t bother trying to take it off. You won’t like what happens if you do.” he said before turning and leaving the room without another word. You could hear the insincere congratulations pour in, muffled from beyond the door.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere male #ask #gn reader #yandere hero

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cottonconnielvr · 10 months

Note

can you write one when its like, reader x plug!connie where they like toxic off and on, but he still spoils her and all that because they in love fr. he's like a real jealous type and is lowkey overprotective. but they always together and spend alot of time with eachother

No matter what you were always gonna be Connie’s.

No matter how many times you guys “broke up” you still belonged to him and everyone knew.

It was hard to strive as a now “single” woman. All of your old hoes were wiped off the face of the earth somehow (thanks to Connie). Any new guy that has the potential of being just a one night stand was scared away by a pair of emotionless eyes that stared you down from across the club.

Every night out with your girlfriends was ruined, any attempt to hook up with someone. ruined

Connie was everywhere you were. You blocked him on every social media, but he still created more accounts just watching your page. He also had eyes on you everywhere. You’d often see some of his most trusted guys at the mall, updating him on your safety.

His friends are so faithful to him it’s frustrating. Your bestfriends were his bestfriends, due to the fact that you were always around you all just became so close!

But when you have a girls night out with Mikasa and Sasha they are always cockblocking for connie.

“That guy was a dick Y/N”

“I dunno maybe you should just get back with Con”

Everyone around you did nothing but encourage you to get back with him, even your parents!

They love having him around and he’s excellent help in the kitchen!

Connie is fairly toxic but you won’t really notice until you think about it.

He’s got himself so involved in your life and everything you do, people can’t help but ask about him! And that was what he intended to do.

There was no possible way you could forget him, he was everywhere. You broke up with Connie but Connie didn’t break up with you.

You lasted 35 days and 45 minutes before getting back with Connie. Ever since you “broke up” with Connie, you’ve been focusing on a clothing line you’ve been wanting to release. You gave up on trying to go out and find simple one night stands. You were fairly sex deprived but didn’t give in. Nothing a vibrator couldn’t fix.

You were over men and their stupid ass inconsiderate ass feelings. Connie didn’t stop taking care of you though. You’d get random paypals and cash apps from Armin or Eren. $850 - FOR from Connie :)

You still were extremely grateful though. This particular night you decided to go to a party Ony was throwing. You were going out for yourself tonight, plus you haven’t popped out in a while gotta keep these bitches hatin

You walked through the entrance of the house, “Way 2 Sexy” blasting through the speakers.

“Heyy sexyy” Sasha drags out as she wraps her arm around you, holding a cup in her hand. You hug her back with a smile on your face, ready to get wasted.

After many mixed drinks and a blunts worth inside of you. You stumbled to a bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You lip synced to the song that was playing from downstairs, checking yourself out in the mirror. Your eyes were red and low, all your movements sloppy.

As you re-applied your lip gloss, a deep voice spoke out to you.

“You’re avoiding me” You jumped at the sudden voice, thinking you were in the bathroom alone. You looked back in the corner of the bathroom, seeing Connie lean on the wall. He looked good as always.

“Connie just go” You mumbled in irritation, not wanting to give into the man in your drunken state.

“What did I tell you about watching your surroundings mama, hmm?” Connie stepped closer to you, “Didn’t even notice me following you. How are you supposed to stay safe princess” Connie fake pouted at you, looking down at you with pity. You could reject him all you want but your face told it all, you missed him so much.

“Sshut upp” You slurred, attempting to walk around him and out of the door.

“Talk to me” Connie’s hand gripped your waist, pulling you back in-front of him. “There’s nothing to talk about, we areee overrrr” Your own eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t cry mami,” Connie cupped your chin, making you look up at him, “Just take me back. I promise I won’t fuck up anymore. I swear i’m going crazy without you, I can’t stop thinking about you. Just please come back home with me” Connie rushed out, the tattooed drug dealer fought the urge to cry. You’ve been ignoring him like crazy. A part of him felt like you were really done with him and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Okay Connie, I will” You nodded, letting your emotional state take over. Your arms wrapped around Connie, just wanting to feel him. “I’m gonna go home with you”

The next day you were sitting on Connie’s lap at Eren’s house. You sat pressing sticky kisses up and down Connie’s neck while he counted a few bands, a joint resting in his mouth.

Eren rolled his eyes as he walked pass you two on the couch. As annoying as it was, everything felt back normal again. You were right where you were supposed to be, with connie <3

thinking about toxic!yandere!friend group now but in a platonic way

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jazjelspen · 11 months

Text

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.3]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(how would some of our NRC students react to this?...)

(includes each house leader +ace and deuce! as requested!<3)

(also includes lots of angst!/mention of blood but not a lot/ angst angst angst angst angst--/not proofread/may be ooc and inconsistent in some places(in both the second part and this part) my apologies!! T-T/mention of book7 overblot/did I mention angst?)

it's been over two weeks now, two weeks in RSA.

so far you've met the headmaster of the school, Ambrose LXIII, with the guidance of Rielle. the headmaster understood your circumstances and talked to you about how he'll try his best to find a way back home for you, and to ease up any of your doubts and concerns he even said he'll promptly ask a student to hand you a report from him of any progress he's made to ensure a safe passage back home for you!

even without having to be an official student or enroll they let you stay in the same dorm as Rielle with your own dorm room as a temporary stay here... and your dorm room was actually nice and well set up! like a hotel room... you were relieved you didn't have to worry about the ceiling cracking and falling on your face for the rest of your nights here.

and to your amazement the headmaster kept his word, unlike Crowley. any report of progress was mostly driven by research but he did mention a lot of Twisted Wonderland's history to connect to any potential gateways back to your world... and this felt way better than whatever Crowley was doing so it was like a breath of fresh air.

finally for the first time ever you've been able to feel like you’re several steps closer to seeing your friends and family back home!... every time you'd think about it you'd get goosebumps of excitement.

during these past few days you've met an enormous amount of friends! most of them being Rielle's while others were outside of the inner social circle but still all of them were friendly or just got along in some way or form, it seemed almost magical. aside from Rielle one of your other closest friends was this boy of green eyes and long, and I mean long blonde hair that usually either dragged behind him or was in a huge braid, he was actually the one who healed your broken arm and wounds with his magical healing powers from his hair! and now you're able to be more active again!

Raps is his name, and he was usually always called upon and under strict supervision by his father whom was a professor there... but you weren't sure if they are related by blood or not since the professor had dark black curls and grey eyes rather than the yellow haired boy's more bright features, but you never really bothered to ask or wonder much. in the end you two got along well and actually had a bit in common! mostly due to the fact that you both can relate to the feeling of being trapped, restrained.

in the end you absolutely loved your temporary stay here so far, you hoped no overblots would ruin your experience... so you never really let your guard down but nonetheless it was relaxing.

we wouldn't be able to say the same for Night Raven College and everyone you left behind though!

Meanwhile in Night Raven College....

it was after classes ended on this cold and grey day when five particular freshmen and a student robot of NRC have been grouping up after school for the past week for one particular reason only...

"where could they be?? we've searched everywhere! the halls, the classrooms, the garden, forest, the shore... it's like they disappeared from thin air!" exclaimed the ace, Ace Trappola to be exact.

"we've looked everywhere Ace, what also irks me is that even Vil has been harsher on the entire dorm since they disappeared." the apple of the group, Epel Felmier, sighed in frustration on the brink of snapping.

"...but could they have been taken, kidnapped?... I'm sure Grim would've heard of any struggle but we haven't even heard from the cat." spoke the wolf of the group, Jack Howl.

"no.. Grim has been avoiding us like the plague and even managed to sneak away from us several times. not sure where he could be hiding now aside from the old ramshackle dorm but-- even yet he always manages to slip through our hands!..." the spade spoke worryingly, Deuce Spade was deeply concerned for your safety and confused over Grim's actions.

"that human!! they've been driving the young master mad! all he's been talking about is where they could be and if they are alright!!... and every time I come back to him it's like the sky and his excellence himself just keeps getting worse and worse!.." the loudest knight of Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt, exclaimed loudly with worry for both the prefect and his young master... but more worried about the young master's train of thought with how worse the clouds have been getting with the most terrible rain and thunder when each day goes by.

"my big brother hasn't been sleeping at all.. way worse than when he has his game marathons. he's constantly looking for any digital footprint they could've left or even trying to hack into their location but it always overrides somehow... it always says that the device is dead or nonexistent." the younger of the shroud brothers, Ortho Shroud, is seen stressing over you and his big brother, Idia Shroud. "with the amount of information my big brother has been trying to look through it could possibly even make me short circuit."

the entire group was at a frustrating dead end for any clue of your disappearance aside from all your everyday items being left behind and your last known scent to be in the ramshackle dorm and at the very edge of the sea. other than that no one has much of a clue.

well they have been hearing from students that a ship appeared as quickly as it disappeared in the night/very early morning before anyone was up, and that one rumor caused other different kinds of rumors to spread like wildfire. some say you were abducted by pirates, stolen by mischievous pixies, suddenly teleported back into your world without warning, or even... that you have finally left on your own. everyone acknowledged the rumors but they didn't want to think about the reality, the cold hard truth, that you really could've left.

if only they knew how terrible their house leaders took it too.

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(requested characters)

Ace: the ace, one of the first people you've met. he's always been a funny and childish friend, sometimes he made you laugh and cry of joy from his terrible yet funny jokes and antics while other times said antics would get you in trouble. he didn't want to accept that he could be part of the reason why you're gone, which is why he tried to convince himself and everyone else around that you were taken instead of leaving voluntarily... he wouldn't be able to handle the guilt and heartbreak to accept that you truly left. he loved you, he truly cared for you and your well-being-- he knew he had a hard time to express these feelings but you were his best friend! of course he cared for your health! but... he couldn't handle the fact that maybe just maybe... he wasn't there for you enough to stay with them a little longer.

he could still remember the first day that you were gone, you weren't in any of your classes-- the teachers didn't even call your name when taking attendance anymore. it was utterly bizarre. Grim was still in his classes yet he sat far away from any students that knew you and disappeared after every class ended.. it was as if he was hiding something. and he was, but Ace and Deuce had no idea what it could be aside that they knew it was about you.

in the end, Ace is left heartbroken knowing that he didn't make sure to do enough to help you even when you asked for it from them. he knew that all he and deuce gave you was pure and utter trouble.

and he couldn't accept the fact, so now here he is having his friends look for you when he knew that you were long gone without even saying goodbye.

Deuce: the spade, one of the first people you've met alongside the ace, a passionate yet slow boy with a heart of gold. as much as he cared for you too the way Ace did he knew that even he wasn't helping either. he knew they should've done more or at least what you asked of them. but now you're gone, and just like Ace it seems as if he too is in denial about their part in your disappearance. he truly wants to believe that you didn't leave on your own even if all evidence was starting to slowly point to that possibility.

unlike Ace though, he seemed to be accepting it faster than him. he still followed along with the story that you were taken but he knew that after all the trouble, all the overblots, all your injuries-- he knew you just couldn't handle it anymore. after all it was clearly written on your face the day when you awoke from losing consciousness in the last overblot that you were ready to move on and make proper progress to get home.

he just...truly wishes that at least wherever you are that you are at least taking care of yourself with more helpful and reliable friends by your side, something he knew that he and Ace weren't able to do.

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(your dorm leaders)

Riddle

inside of the dorm with pampered red roses adorning every corner was the queen of hearts of the Heartslabyul dorm completely and utterly tearing his dorm room into shreds in pure red rage.

Riddle Rosehearts was fuming, heartbroken, and betrayed on so many levels that he hasn't felt in a good while. hearing from Cater and Trey about your disappearance and then hearing from other of his dorm students about the ship that sailed here as quickly as it left in the late hours of the night/very early hours of the morning.

he immediately assumed that you were kidnapped and in danger! he even marched to the headmaster's office to report your disappearance with other dorm leaders!... well actually-- surprisingly they all came at the same time without planning. but in the end when approaching Crowley with this question of 'where is the prefect?', the headmaster was calm, horrifyingly calm, and said a phrase that shook him on many levels with his fellow dorm leaders beside him.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left."

"but they will be coming back to say goodbye before they go back home-- if they find a way back home... right?" spoke the leader of Ignihyde, for the first time out of his room.

"unlikely!" exclaimed the headmaster with a smile.

that one first phrase that headmaster Crowley told them was all that he needed to hear, in the moment of processing what he's heard everything was basically fading away as he also slowly but quickly ran back to his dorm room, in tears.

he was so angry, so furious, so emotional, so... he felt as if his own heart had been grabbed and thrown out of his chest. 'why couldn't you at least say goodbye??' he'd think.

he has never thrown so many books, ripped up so many letters he's written for you from himself that he never dared to send or give, and cut up then stepped on so many bouquets of roses in his room with your name on the tags.

wait...

oh, those roses.

he stopped dead in his tracks with tears streaming down his face as he pathetically dropped down to his knees at the sight of all the five sad 'bouquets' of fresh red roses he planned to give you, now all had their petals and stems broken, torn, shredded, and crushed.

he then realized he didn't have his gloves on anymore... his palms had small yet prominent holes that were dripping red, red as the roses he destroyed. seems like the roses had thorns.

ahh..he remembers now...

those roses were meant just for you.

Leona:

"what do you mean you still haven't found the herbivore yet?..." spoke the ruthless Kingscholar lion of Savannaclaw in a low yet snarly tone "I doubt they could've swam themselves out of here with waters like the ones this place has anyway. you all are likely not even looking right." he huffed as he closed his eyes with his body on the ground of the botanical garden facing away from the hyena gasping for air due to all the running that he had to do to bring the news to Leona.

Ruggie took a few deep breathes and quick pants before speaking "...we've already got twelve other students including the Ignihyde dorm leader's younger brother and the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore, a robot and a hunter, looking around and no one's found them! Howl already tried to sniff them out and all we came up with was nothing much but just a faint smell of them from the shore." he huffed and panted in exhaustion.

Leona just scoffed "as I mentioned before, you're all still probably not looking in the right places."

Ruggie tried to intercept but knew that even if he did it'd be fruitless and gain nothing from trying to correct Leona, yet he was frustrated too and wanted to know where you could be as well.

but unlike the freshmen at least Ruggie has been starting to accept the possibility that you really have left, forever. Ruggie was about to turn and leave to continue the search and try to sniff out any information from other students until---

"Bucchi." Leona broke the short silence with a throaty command for his attention which he certainly achieved with both of Ruggie's ears poking up to hear his next set of words.

"keep participating in the search for the prefect. If all continues to come up dry, then I'll just have to take this into my own hands."

and this time without trying to speak a single word back he nodded with a quick and stern 'mhm' before scurrying off to help the rest of the students. once the hyena was gone Leona then had his eyes look up through one of the many windows in the garden that are presenting the sky's ever growing storm. oh how much he was longing for you.

he could still remember as if it was yesterday, when Crowley told all of the house leaders the news after they all abruptly showed up at the same time.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home!"

that phrase.. he remembered how taken aback he was.

Leona slammed his fists on the headmaster's table "parted. ways?? as in they left NRC?!" a low growl came from inside his throat as Headmaster Crowley contained his eerily calm smile on his face.

"Sir Kingscholar I must insist you to control your temper." he spoke in his usual annoying and irritating voice "It's what they decided and were set on, end of story."

Leona couldn't remember much else after that blow out since all he did right after that was back away and stayed stuck in his thoughts until finally he just left the room suddenly. He didn't listen to any conversations that happened after that since all he could think was 'why not at least say goodbye?'

he finished recounting the moment before he mumbled to himself "I still have too much to say to you.",

but really he hoped that somehow somewhere you could still hear him. even if you probably left them for good.

Azul:

The sea witch of the Octavinelle dorm was pacing back and forth in every corner across his office in the Mostro Lounge. He's tried his best to squeeze out any information out of any of his dorm students or employees about the prefect with the help of his left and right hand eels ,Jade and Floyd Leech, with Floyd being the most productive yet not catching much information aside from the students he's squeezed the air out of exclaiming about some ship that has left in the midst of the night way pass midnight but too early to be morning. It intrigued all three yet it made our octopus pop a few nerves with how panicky he's been.

when he first heard this rumor it made him run to the headmaster's office with the immense fear that you could've been taken. he could remember his glasses slipping off at every bounce he made with each step of his run. he could remember the moment he opened the door to the headmaster's office along with the sudden appearance of all of his fellow house leaders in the same room..(excluding Malleus as usual) he could still feel the sweat dripping down his face, the crazy and misplaced strands of hair from his usual look, his glasses lopsided, and the scarf of his uniform threatening to fall off his shoulder-- of course he attempted to fix every one of these details on the spot to look somewhat presentable.

yet the answer he got from the headmaster was nothing short of soul-crushing for him. he asked a continuous amounts of questions as to why and how but all were dodged by the headmaster and answered with a short,

"it's just what they decided."

now he's just back into his office now diving head first into his work and school. much to his dismay it only kept him distracted for a temporary amount of time and in the dark of night under his covers all he could think about is you, just you.

he truly wished he could've been a part of your world.

Kalim:

the generous sultan of the Scarabia dorm was sulking in his room with his friend Jamil sitting by his side. Kalim was heartbroken over your disappearance and he remembers how worried sick he was at first. he like many assumed you were kidnapped and he was even waiting for some kind of ransom note to appear and he would've paid full price and more... but when he and other dorm leaders came to talk their concerns all they got was the news that you left voluntarily.

he was one of very few that felt that in their hearts you'd come back. one way or another Kalim felt in his broken heart that you'd appear as suddenly as you disappeared and unlike other dorm leaders he wouldn't put it against you to the slightest. he wouldn't hold grudges or be mad at you if you ever came back, in fact he understood why you'd leave and he was all up for making everything ten times better than before just so you'd never leave him again.

"you have to be realistic here, Kalim. for all we know maybe they found a way home faster than they did here, or they found a place where they don't have to worry about the next overblot or what their next meal will be." Jamil tried to be straightforward and blunt with Kalim, he didn't want him to have hope that you'd come back and then actually never coming back. "we don't know and may never know unless some kind of obvious sign shows that they will actually come back... but just don't keep your hopes up. for your sake." Jamil stood up from the edge of the bed to walk towards the exit of the room "I'll be back, I have to make dinner so you won't go to sleep starving."

With Jamil leaving Kalim then jumped out of his bed to open his window, the sky still not clear of the grey clouds and still not dark enough for the second star of the right to show up but still hoped that his message would still be received by the wishing star.

the platinum blonde boy held his hands together under his lips "please please please please.. please.." Kalim mumbled, wishing with all his heart.

"please, may _____ be safe, sound, and happy... wherever they are.."

Vil:

in the dorm of the fairest queen was the dorm leader watching from up above behind the tallest window of his room. clenching both of the red velvet curtains in his hands as he watched a group of freshman and a robot, including one of his own, group up and talk hectically and stressfully to each other. Vil Schoenheit knew very well why this particular group of students were talking in such an exaggerating manner, after all... with what Rook has told him and what he's heard from various students around the school it was most definitely about you.

as collected and uncaring as he tried to seem right now he could definitely feel worry and a kind of anger bubble up inside him.

'could you really have left?' he thinks.

remembering what the headmaster said and all the bits of evidence he and Rook have picked up it seemed that it was certainly the case.

"they parted ways with us to find other opportunities at finding their home! they felt too bad to tell you all so they just left." spoke the headmaster.

you really did leave without saying goodbye.

he couldn't completely blame you, as silent and busy as he was he obviously knew that his and the rest of the overblots and people that surrounded you were bringing you down. it's why he invited you at times for make-overs, spa days, and everything in between to at least brighten up your spirits whenever he could.

"I suppose all of that wasn't enough for you." Vil mumbled to himself as he aggressively thrashed both curtains he held in each hand inward to close off the view of the storm clouds from the sky, to stop those clouds from taunting him any longer.

that and because he couldn't let anyone from out his window see the mascara dripping down his face.

"Roi de Poison?..." his hunter spoke in a calm and hesitant voice, noting that this isn't exactly the time to try to make conversation.

and he was right "Rook!--" Vil seemed to have jumped, immediately yet carefully wiping his mascara-filled tears with a handkerchief on him. "what is so important that you had to come in without knocking??" he exclaimed as he has yet to face his hunter.

"Roi de Posion... there is something your eyes must see to believe." he seemed to take out his phone with an image on his screen.

"Well get on with it then!" Vil exclaimed before he finally turned to face Rook in dramatic motion, eyes still a bit bloodshot even from the few tears he had.

Rook carefully approached Vil, phone in hand, once he took one last look on the screen to make sure it showed what he wanted to show the hunter then finally faced the screen towards his dorm leader with hesitance.

it was a Magicam account, someone's most recent post...from yesterday..

it was Neige.

but.. wait... that person by his side.. it couldn't be--

why were you in Neige's Magicam post?

Idia:

dorm leader of the underworld Ignihyde, has not been sleeping as much as he should be. of course he's never slept well in the first place but it's just been getting worse since the ramshackle prefect has left.

currently Idia Shroud was looking for any digital footprints he could find, trying to track your location, trying to figure out where you could be. in the end it was all for naught since for the past week or two he's found nothing and basically has given up at this point.

he leaned back against his gaming chair and with a sigh of disappointment, he didn't want to accept what Crowley told all of the house leaders in his office. he knew that there's some kind of trace of you out there somewhere, he felt like it was up to him to find the person who bothered to give him the time of day and attention that he'd never thought he'd get.

the light from his screens were causing his eyes to become dry and almost bloodshot, each blink hurting his mind and his focus. that was until a notification came from his phone.

that's strange.. no one ever sends him messages unless it's in game.

he grabbed his phone beside his keyboard to read the message. how odd, it was from the noob Rook Hunt. what would the vice-dorm leader of Pomefiore want anything with him? nonetheless Idia was slightly intrigued yet annoyed, he pressed on the notification to lead him straight to the new chat with the hunter, it said:

"Roi de Ta Chambre, I do hope this finds you well. A little bird told me that you too have been wondering about the safety and whereabouts of our beloved missing prefect. I may have the answer to your worries here."

below the message was a link to a Magicam post under the name of Neige Leblanc. he's heard of the name but was never interested in the petty and do-gooder lives of any of the RSA students. he cautiously pressed on the link to show a photo, a photo of said Neige Leblanc posing with a familiar face... a familiar face that he now wished he didn't see.

it was you, you were with an RSA student...

"tch..." Idia grumbled as he threw his phone back on his desk before he stepped back out of his chair and walked over to his bed "why did i even bother."

he fell face first into his bed and hugged one of his long yet soft pillows tightly, tears quietly falling down on their own slowly, he didn't dare make a sound in case Ortho would come barging in. he continued to cry quietly now acknowleging that you truly did leave without a goodbye, and left with RSA students no less, and with how you treated him before you left-- he dreamed that he might've had a chance with you.

but he should've known, dreams are for rookies.

Malleus:

the dragon prince of Diasomnia was a strange case, unlike every one of his fellow dorm leaders he actually knew that you left by ship. where to though he had no clue.

he remembers that he came to visit you at late hours of the night at the ramshackle dorm like he usually does except he saw you sneak out with nothing but Grim on your back. he followed you walking down to the shore to see a large ship awaiting for a passenger and what shook him a bit more was that the headmaster was there beside the ship, expecting... you. Malleus watched in confusion as you gave your beloved fiery feline a huge and long hug and some shared words with the headmaster. he was about to teleport himself right in front of you when he saw you walk up the gangplank of the ship to hop aboard but he stopped himself when he remembered about your cast.

ahh yes, how could he forget. he gave you the broken arm, the cuts and wounds, he gave them all to you when he overblotted. he knew that you said you had a chance of going back home but he didn't think it'd have you to go by ship.. and without saying goodbye.

in the end he just watched you and the ship disappear, watched Grim slowly walk back to ramshackle, and watched the headmaster disappear on the spot.

for the next few days that passed he's been mourning the loss of your presence, he's almost casted spells to take himself to you-- to retrieve you and hide you in a tower with nothing but him to protect you... to right all the wrongs he's made. he'd bring you fresh flowers every day and make sure to keep you healthy and happy, he'd do anything to have you back.

but he should've held back, every other person who's overblot you had to deal with should've held back. the headmaster should've done his job. then maybe just maybe you would've been able to be in his arms that night when you left.

in the end he was the only one who didn't ever visit the headmaster for any information about you. he had no reason after all he saw you leave.

after he gets a grip on himself though, he will confront Headmaster Crowley for any information as to 'why' he let you leave.

right now all he could ask is why... why why??.. the more he felt stuck in his thoughts the more the storm outside worsened. at this point everyone could see how he's feeling, his entourage of three tried their best to comfort him but it was no use. the prince of thorns was stuck sulking, and he didn't know how else to stop unless you were back into his arms.

he's also been taking way too many naps now, strange to his three knights yet he knew he did this because every time in every one of his dreams he had you in his arms and walked beside you. he had you all to himself in his dreams.

he saw that this was a better solution than being awake.

(THIS IS SUPER LONG and I might've messed up here and there T-T hope it broke a few hearts tho! I tried my very best in each one of their reactions!<3)

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oozedninjas · 5 months

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Heyyyy I was wondering if you could do how the boys realize they're in love with you and how they react to said realization? Maybe even how long they'd take to confess??

Sorry if that's too much in one go or if you've already done it, ily and I love your writing <3

These are technically two requests so I'll just stick to "How they realize they're in love" if that's okay :)

MDNI / Turtle guys are mid to late twenties

BAYVERSE GUYS REALIZING THEY'RE IN LOVE

---

Leonardo:

Once he notices, Leo would carefully consider the implications that come with romantic emotions and reflect upon whether or not he's willing to go through what it entails to give himself to someone.

He would make sure this isn't just a fleeting thing before making any decisions on acting upon those feelings. Once he does, he'll drop little hints that surpass obviousness.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't that he is not brave enough to make the moves; it's just that he assumes that what he has to offer is little and prefers to give you all the signs. This way, if you want a relationship with him, you have the necessary tools to let him see that you do want to be courted.

Donatello:

Donnie's sharp enough to recognize what he's feeling the moment he discerns those exquisite tingles in his chest as something beyond just excitement. Yet, like the reserved creature that he is, digesting such emotions and coming to terms with them is… another thing entirely.

I think he would tough it out for the most part. Often bombarded by intrusive thoughts of a negative reaction on your side if you were to find out. His mind plays tricks on him, making him daydream about delightful dates with you, followed by the voice of mockery asserting that could never come to happen.

He has to be realistic. It isn't logical that someone as beautiful and brilliant as you are would risk being with a non-human creature who's not even biologically compatible with you. No, he's better off as your friend.

Raphael:

He knows what he feels for you; however, he refuses to accept it in his heart (or in front of anyone else, for that matter) because it would be too painful not to be reciprocated. Nevertheless, as his feelings for you grow, so do the desires to protect you and keep you safe and secure. This makes it difficult for him to conceal his true feelings to a sharp, tenacious eye as your own.

If he comes to confess his feelings, Raphael would strive to balance his rough exterior with moments of tenderness, as he recognizes the importance of displaying his softer side to achieve more deepening emotional connections.

Mikey

Mikey's excitement and eagerness to be around you would give him away in the blink of an eye. It's cute because he holds this "We should totally date! Haha, joking, joking... UNLESS!" attitude all the time.

I think he would express his feelings in a joyful, creative form. You can expect an outpouring of artistic expressions: drawings, poems, or spontaneous acts of affection.

I think Mike's the one with a higher rate of emotional intelligence; many lessons he's learned across his journey, and in his adult years, it's easier for him to establish his limits and boundaries. With this in mind, I think he would ponder if it's worth potentially ruining his friendship with you. If the answer is yes, he goes with everything he's got.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 24 days

Text

jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 2: Need

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You crave.

I am sorry for how long this took - to be fair, it's been months since I wrote actual smut and I was nervous to re-pop my smut cherry, ahahahaha. Yes, this chapter features actual smut, hallelujah for Reader! This doesn't technically mark the end for the troubles, however deceptive the ending is. Depression is a process, and sometimes we go through ups and downs with it. We're facing an up here! Ish.

Thanks be to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and offering much-needed pointers to make this chapter coherent and well-rounded. I cannot post without you holding my hand ever, and I love you for putting up with it.

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of PPD, penetrative s*x, lactation and lactation kink.

Wading through the waters of this curious state of mind is no easy process.

Melancholy. Mother’s malady. Madness. Whatever it is called among differing circles, you now know it is not uncommon. This knowledge does not ease the despondency that comes in waves, threatening to shatter any semblance of the control you are tenuously rebuilding. There are days when you feel as though you cannot even bear to lay eyes on your boy and girl, that the merest act of sighting them will somehow cause their unhappiness, that you will ruin them by being near them. There are times when you believe yourself to be the only woman in the world who cannot simply love her children as mothers ought to, free of the complication of treacherous notions slithering through the mind like draughts of poison, silent in their destruction. There are moments when you think that perhaps you should never have allowed them to spring to fruition, that you should have found a way to tear out the blooms that had sprouted within your belly before they had the chance to become living, breathing creatures.

That last thought is particularly repellent.

It is not your fault for thinking these things, though. They are ideas sprung from this affliction, designed to cause uncertainty and create chaos. It does not stop you from thinking that you may well be the most despicable monster to disgrace the earth. If you were left to your own devices, it is indeed likely that you would remain abed for days on end, resigned to misery.

But it is not a fate that you are allowed to succumb to. On the mornings when you find yourself unable to depart the cocoon of your sheets, your ladies coax you up with surprising and uncharacteristic purposefulness. Gone is their cloying timidity, replaced by creatures of determination as they all but drag you bodily upright to clothe and feed you, to immerse you in cheerful chatter while they work.

Gerardys comes to visit you, followed swiftly by Ūlla, newly returned from her journeys. The two rather predictably bicker over how best to approach any potential treatment.

“My colleagues at the Citadel recommend bloodletting,” the maester says with a frown, glancing nervously at your healer, “to restore imbalanced humours.”

Ūlla levels him with a foul look. “Are you stupid? Princess making milk. Losing blood is bad for her, and the babes!”

“If she remains hydrated, any complications will be minimal.”

“Tell Prince,” she shoots back challengingly. “See if he agree.”

“Forgive me, but Prince Daemon does not have the final word here, my lady. As Maester of Dragonstone, it is my responsibility to ensure residents are—”

“Losing blood hurt Princess, and babes, too! Stupid man!”

She storms out of the room with nary a word further, and you find yourself resigned to the possibility of enduring fattening leeches hanging off your skin. Gerardys begins to talk you through the process, though in truth you are not minding him as closely as you ought, but it does not seem to be long before Ūlla re-enters.

“Here,” she says, pressing a nondescript pouch into your hands. All the while, she is glaring at the maester. You inspect the contents, your nose tickling at the mild citrus scent that emanates from within. “Lemon balm,” she explains. “Make into a tea.”

Alas, you think ruefully. More tea. At this rate, it is a small wonder that your urine has not taken on the various aromas and hues of the remedies you are made to consume.

The tea does help, though, or perhaps it is simply in your mind. Perhaps the tea is not the cure, but time. Perhaps it is the magic that lives in your blood, that unites you to your dragon and ties you to the fate of a long-dead dynasty, that best eases your path forward. You still have hours and days where you fare poorly. But gradually, these moments come with less and less severity, feelings that do not fade but are ones you can muse upon, chew about like toffee sticking to the crowns of your teeth. Uncomfortable, difficult to cleanse yourself of, yes, but possible where you perhaps had not even been aware of their existence before. You learn to appreciate them for what they are, no more or less than calls for a defeat that is not yet yours to claim…

Because, despite the war in your head, your babes are happy. They are settled. They thrive. If you truly had been failing, this would not be so.

And thus, you persist with the teas and tonics and tepid baths recommended to you, with the dogged joviality of Jeyne and Bethany, with long walks at Ser Lysan’s side marked by the whip of salty sea air and the faint pulsing warmth of the sun. With visits to your boy, your Athfiezar, his smoke-breath and scaled mass and the thrum of a secret kinship clearing the muck of unhappiness from your view and restoring, in parts, a clarity well-missed. Through it all, you realise—bit by bit, hour by hour—that there is more beyond the sorrow. That something is blossoming, weak and spindly and scarcely living, but there, right there below your ribs and growing, a sickly weed straining toward the light. Something like hope.

It unfreezes the most poisonous of your tender ambitions, slackening the bonds of your inflexible drive to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys alone. ‘Tis a hard-won concession, but one necessary to your wellbeing and theirs. Still, you cannot help but feel your bond closest when they are swaddled against you, tiny hands pressed against your breasts and greedy suckles drawing from the wellspring of nourishment your body has created for them.

“Have they latched well, Princess? Ought I assist in any way?”

You glance up with great effort, nearly incapable of tearing your eyes away from them both. Freda feigns nonchalance, but it is easy enough to tell that she is anxious. Your rather spectacular histrionics are not easily forgotten by all.

Shaking your head, you smile. “They are fine, thank you. They are perfect.”

Never have you spoken truer words. You are constantly marvelling at how dissimilar they are to the shrivelled little beings that you had laboured to bring into the world scarcely two moons ago. Their hair, pale at birth, has only grown brighter, solid where it had been opaque. Much of Aelys’s has fallen out, which you have been assured is quite usual. It certainly makes it easier to differentiate between the two on sight, though this is becoming more and more simple as their differing features have begun to assert themselves. In Rhaenar, you see the promise of Daemon’s strong nose; in Aelys, the shape of the eyes. They share your mouth, even if Aelys’s pout reminds you more of Rhaenyra. These little things make them individuals with each passing day, untangle the singularity they are oft referred to as and begin to show those around them that they are becoming their own person.

You know now that your wish to gather them close and tuck them out of sight of all others is not simple maternal instinct, and instead a symptom of this malady. Through Freda’s tales, you learn that many are involved in the rearing of common-born children; through Ūlla’s considerable experience and your sister’s anecdotes, you begin to understand that your original undertaking was never feasible. It grates you so, but you try to take heed of their womanly advice more than you truly desire to, obliging their recommendations to allow the twins to sleep in the nursery during the night. But in the daytime—in the now—they are all yours.

“That they are,” Freda says, snapping you from your hypnotic reverie. “A bonnier lad and lass I’ve never met, you can be assured of that!”

Even though you know she likely feels duty-bound to say so, you cannot help the flush of pleasure. Their nursing has slowed, eyes heavy-lidded and noses huffing warmth against your skin. It is gratifying to see them so satisfied.

As soon as Rhaenar’s lips pull away, smacking wetly as he gurgles and smiles, Freda is ready to lift him into her arms. His head rests upon the cloth tossed over her shoulder, fists waving with each pat she makes against his back.

“Another meal for the little Prince and Princess,” she says, grinning. “Well done, Your Highness!”

“It would seem so.” Aelys is done, you think, but working her mouth still for comfort. It seems to please her to continue the act long after your milk has emptied. You cup her head, running your fingers through the wispy locks in a manner you hope is soothing. “It is relieving to have finally managed it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Rhaenar belches, kicking his legs when Freda makes a startled noise as she always does. “But what an impressive feat, milady—nursing one babe to a full belly can be difficult enough, never mind two! That thistle tea must be something special, indeed.”

It is not only the tea, you think.

The memories of Daemon’s lips at your nipples, his body hard against yours, the low lusty grunts of more than just gustatory delight—and there are many, as many memories as nights in which his faithful service so oft takes place—elicit a soft, secretive smile even as heat rushes to your face. This heat travels further, down, down, reminding you uncomfortably of another dilemma you are facing.

Desire. It is something which you ponder greatly upon over the next days.

When you had just given birth, you did not think you would ever be capable of it again. Of course, this sentiment had followed a rather gruelling several hours of agony, much of which you cannot recall, and the overwhelming fear that you may perish as your mother had done. With your lower half all but mangled and shedding the remains of what processes your body had devised to best facilitate your children’s growth, the notion of letting your uncle couple with you had seemed positively dreadful. ‘Twas akin to the thought of him rutting into the gaping maw of a fresh wound. But the blood of that night had passed, and the pain had faded, and in your mind, it is almost like it had never happened at all. You do not remember the sensation.

You have not resumed your courses save for some light spotting in your smallclothes, though that is apparently to be expected. Your breasts are ever noticeable, large and leaking or shrunken and soft depending on the time of day, always sensitive regardless of state. Your belly is quite nearly back to the state it had been before carrying the twins, save for an additional laxness and the crawling lines of dark delineating the places where your flesh had most stretched. These are all changes, differences that you have come to anticipate, understand.

It is likely why the return of carnal longings is so utterly strange, so abnormal in its normality. How can a form so changed experience something so… banal?

Even so, you find yourself drawn to the minutest of details when in Daemon’s presence: the corded strength of his arms; the elegant line of his ringed fingers; the set of his jaw and the shadow of his brow. His voice singing lullabies of old to the twins brings a sort of frantic exhilaration, a dampness pooling between the legs instead of drowsed comfort. His easy grin makes your heart pound as though from great toil. When his attention is elsewhere, you admire the span of his shoulders and the planes of his chest, knotting scars of savagery setting you to swooning.

You feel like one of his fawning admirers, breathless and fluttering and giggling at his innate charm. You feel desperate.

And, worst of all, he does not notice. He fails to recognise the reciprocation of your sighs and moans as he feasts from you for the invitation that they are. His touch is gentle, like he is afraid you will break, even when you press yourself into him so eagerly that it seems no small wonder that he cannot read it for the provocation you intend it to be. He is careful not to make his acts of self-pleasure too obvious, pushing your hands away with a kind murmur of, “Rest now, sweetling, I’ll take care of this,” as though you are incapable of doling out the satisfaction he had taught you so well to perform, as though it is an inconvenience to you rather than he that his member rises so readily at the sight of you.

This state of affairs cannot last. It ought to be an easy thing for you to entice him to act on your shameless thoughts, the way you had so often before the babes had entered the world. You feel frozen, trapped in your abstemious existence as you have been for sennights. How to make him see? How to make him comprehend?

When Rhaenyra hears of your plight, disguised in the politest terms you can muster, she laughs.

“Go on and tend to your brother,” she says to Luke, nodding towards Joff. Based on the quiver of little Corwyn’s lower lip, Joff has thrown one of his toys at him again. He appears poised to do so a second time, wooden dragon carving clutched tightly in an upraised fist. “Have him build a tower with you, perhaps.”

Luke sighs, ever wearied at presiding over the play of the younger two. Still, he abandons the book before him, revolves on his heel and trudges over to the pair of tots, prying the dragon from little fingers and leading them both to the far safer pile of blocks.

Satisfied, Rhaenyra turns back to you. “Have you tried speaking to him?”

The abrupt shift takes you aback. You must cast your mind past the immediate happenings—away from the sound of delighted giggling, the thwock of blocks placed by clumsy hands—to recall your previous conversation.

Oh, yes. Daemon.

“Not… not exactly,” you say, hesitant. “I did not think I would need to ask my husband to… well…”

“There are occasions where you think too highly of him.” Rhaenyra shakes her head wryly, a fond curl to the corner of her lip. “This is one of them. Just because he knows you best of all doesn’t mean he’s not still a man.”

“But he is a man who… enjoys certain acts! Perhaps even more so than other men.” Your thoughts supply you with ample evidence of such a claim, unbidden. How frustrating it is that your thoughts are your only source of carnal satisfaction at present. You swallow nervously, praying that such lewdness or its resulting vexation does not reveal itself in your expression. “Why is he being so obtuse?”

She tilts her head sympathetically. “You forget he was there during your labours. They’re pains easy enough to forget when you’re the one experiencing them, but not soon disregarded as the spectator. He remembers your suffering—he does not wish to revisit any further upon you.”

A flattering observation of him, though you note the lack of supposition in her tone. Intrigue washes through you.

“How do you know? Has he been speaking to you?”

“Oh, darling. He’s frightfully easy to read.”

For a moment, you envy her. She is so alike to Daemon that it is hardly any wonder that she knows his thoughts so well. You, on the other hand, do not share their temperament. It is a fact you often appreciate, for the gods know how calamitous such a warring pair would be in matrimony. It had once been said, you recall not by who, that you were the ice to their fire—but now, you feel the comparison is lacking.

If Rhaenyra and Daemon are a blazing conflagration, then you are the steady warmth of the candle flickering in the evening. Soft, controlled, but carrying the same propensity to burn and maim. A dragon, same as all the rest, but with one rather unique quality: mastery of will. The calamities inflicted by your family might have been averted had past generations indulged their wild spirits a little less.

An odd, haunting echo whispers along the back of your neck, a voice you feel you ought to recognise yet lies beyond the precipice of knowledge, just out of reach. “Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. A dragon is not a slave.”

No. But Targaryens have ever been beholden to their tempers. Mayhaps there is freedom yet to be won.

Rhaenyra clears her throat, brow raised pointedly at your obvious distraction. “Use your words. If you want him to fuck you, you’ll have to make it clear beyond implication.”

You flush, and not only for your inattention. You may be far more accustomed to vulgarity now than you were before marriage, but it does not mean that it is entirely comfortable to hear your sister speak it. Never mind the fact that she is discussing the affairs of your marital bed in so cavalier a manner! You remind yourself that it had been you who had approached her.

“Thank you.”

“I hope I helped. And to be frank, I hope I never need to help again. It’s difficult enough to contend with unspoken.”

A clear enough dismissal: you rise from your seat beside her, squeezing her arm in silent farewell. She catches you just before you turn toward the door, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“And remember,” she says. “If all else fails, just drop your shift and grab his cock. That ought to be enough to encourage him.”

“Rhaenyra!”

It takes a great deal of strength not to follow through on your sister’s recommendation when next you meet with Daemon.

He returns to your chambers following another of his training sessions, sweat-soaked and streaked with grime, grunting as he slips the belt from his waist and sets Dark Sister against the wall. Your ladies avert their stares as he unbuckles the clasps of his leather jerkin and discards the thing across the table. At the sight of his disrobing, Jeyne and Bethany stand, genuflecting hastily before all but rushing from the room. Try as you might, the pair are still somewhat uneasy around him. Characteristically, he appears not to notice their departure—indeed, it is unlikely he truly even noticed their presence.

“I do hope you plan to wipe that table clean,” you call out to him, doing your best to affect a tone of light-hearted teasing. In truth, you feel more than a little faint. It is positively sinful, the way he looks.

Daemon rolls his eyes, bundling up his tunic. He tugs it over his head, exposing the undershirt made translucent from the vigour of his activities. Through it, you can see the scars of old, the firm planes of his chest and belly.

“We have people for that, or did you forget?” he asks. The tunic falls atop the jerkin. A chair screeches across the stone, and your husband seats himself with a wearied sigh to work at the buckles on his boots. “Fucking miserable, this lot. I’m half tempted to drag them to the Stepstones. Perhaps the threat of war might make them more inclined to follow orders. Best way to turn the green ones into true men.”

You know it is mere complaint, but the thought of his flying off to battle is still enough to make your chest pang with worry.

“Not funny,” you say, thumbing the needle in your hand. “Aelys would never stop screaming with you gone. Rhaenar would keep himself awake until your return.”

He grins. “Never fear. I’ll not leave you to manage our little beasts alone.” He pauses; glances toward the cradle. “How are they?”

“See for yourself.”

Hardly needing encouragement, he pads sure-footed toward the sounds of soft gurgling and cooing, the sturdy frame keeping the pair of infants out of your immediate sight. Bending low and extending both arms down, you can hear him murmur, “Rytsas, ñuhys zaldrītsossas.”

Hello, my little dragons.

A high-pitched squeal is his response, no doubt Aelys’s welcome. You try to focus once again on the seam you are patching, though it is hard not to be drawn into the conversation that appears to be taking place to your far left.

Rustling, and a plaintive whine. Daemon sighs. “Daor, ñuhus jorrāeliarzis—jemī ōregon koston daor. Yne aōhi muña asēnilus lo jemī vaogēdan.” No, my loves—I cannot hold you. Your mother would kill me for dirtying you.

“Kony drēje issa.” That is correct, you say archly. You nod toward the screen. “Kōdrion aō syt ilza. Īlvon parklondo go, aōlot rāenābā, kostilus.” There is a bath for you. Wash up before our supper, please.

When he pulls away, the pair squawk their dismay. Luckily, he knows best how to resolve the ensuing fit before it can reach fruition—he jerks his final layer off over his head, depositing the threadbare shirt into the cradle. Their cries fall abruptly silent. You wrinkle your nose at the prospect of their bedding wicking the odour of perspiration, though you are forced to acknowledge the efficacy of such an action. Babes find comfort in the scent of their parents.

Daemon drops a strip of leather on the desk, shaking his head of now-loose hair. On his path to the tub, he stops before you.

“Ynot tolī syz iksā,” he says, rough-hewn palm dragging your chin upward. You are too good to me.

It is all you can do not to moan like an eager slattern as his lips slot against yours and the musk of him rattles your bones like tinder to firewood, bursting and sparking with banked heat. Acerbic, mingled with smoke and the particular fragrance of ashy mud found nowhere else but here upon the isle, it is strong enough to taste upon his mouth, feel upon your skin. Before you have the mind to deepen it, to drag him down and haul your skirts up, he is gone, naught more than a tender dirt-smudged stroke to the cheek to mark his departure.

You collapse back against the chaise, bewildered and hot, the heavy glide of his favourite coat finally breaking free from your lap and to the floor, needle and thread and all. Meanwhile, you hear him whistling to himself as he removes his breeches, his groan of relief as he steps into the water.

You have half a mind to disturb his bathing, for how dare he leave you so bereft? But it is not his fault. Well, to be fair, there is no fault at play here, for there has been no fault committed. Unless being far too handsome is a fault, you think.

Alas, there is no recourse but to wait for the opportune time to strike. It cannot be now—supper is still to come, and the babes must be put to the nursery.

‘Tis this thought you must repeat over and over again. Not now: Daemon is dressing for the evening meal, even if you truly only want to have him remain without clothing, to prowl about with his considerable endowments on display for your avid gaze, and something alarmingly like grief twists in your stomach with each item of clothing that further conceals him from you. Not now: you take your girl and he takes your boy and the four of you make your way through the halls, and you must ruthlessly quell the driving lust from your core with each step, for there can be no notions of lechery with a babe curled in your grasp just so, an innocence you will not dare risk tainting with the impurity of your designs. Not now: the Keepers are explaining that the twins’ dragons “are becoming unruly, my Prince”, and “they will need far more outdoor enrichment than we had previously discussed”, and you must nod your head in sage agreement even as you press a kiss to Rhaenar’s forehead, then Aelys’s, all too aware of the low thrum of Daemon’s voice while you say goodnight to Freda and the children.

Supper comes and goes in a burning haze, marked by the knowing looks you receive from your sister across the table and the pervasive awareness that he is right there next to you, so close and yet untouchable, not now, not in the way you want. When you are done eating—and honestly, you do not even remember putting food into your mouth, but your plate is empty and your belly pleasantly full so you must have—you are forced to just sit, all too conscious of the arm Daemon has carelessly draped across the back of your chair, the rumble of his laugh as his cups flow amply with the free and easy conversation between he and Harwin and Laenor. And then, and then, you are returned to your chambers after minutes or hours or days, so wound up on the inside that you feel close to madness of a different kind, near to bursting, blood bubbling effervescently like the sharpest of Northern wines.

All night, you had been anticipating this moment. Why now does your nerve fail you?

“Come here,” he says, disturbing the panicked wheelabout in your mind.

For a moment, you wonder whom it is he is speaking to—but then he glances up at you, frowning quizzically. You realise you are the only other being in the room. Wringing your hands and cursing your foolish transparency, you trail toward him, stopping expectantly when you are within reach.

Silence.

“Well?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. You look about, trying to determine what it is he wants. He sighs, and adds, “Do you plan on sleeping in that dress, or would you like a hand with the laces?”

“Oh!”

Like a poorly performing puppet, you whirl around spasmodically, breath stuck somewhere between its starting and finishing point, suspended in your chest as he shifts your hair to one side and begins the methodical task of unthreading you from your fabric prison. Each wrench of cord is as keenly felt as a thrust between your legs, or the memory of it, hushing your careening passions to the metronome of the tug tug shwip at your back. Daemon’s breath is sweetly fragrant, hot upon your neck, near enough that you can hear his every exhale before the pressure of air caresses your skin. It is an eternity before the gown slithers to the floor, followed by the soft-boned corset you have favoured in recent moons.

“Shift, too?” is his next whispered query, fingers already at the ties and tugging, palms dragging it clear from your collarbone and down, down, down. It bunches at your waist, but it is far enough for his liking, and he turns you in his grasp to back you unerringly to the bed. A kiss, then, “Make yourself comfortable, talītsos,” and he moves away to remove his own clothing.

Your heart sinks at the familiarity. The routine. Make yourself comfortable, followed by abortive sensual touches and the hard suckle of man at teat before your breasts are dried up for the night, then squirming alone in the dark to the furious beat of his fist over his length across the room and the barely groaned “Fuck!” as he spurts his release on something, anything that is not you.

Even so, you crawl onto the mattress, nipples tingling with the gentle sway of movement and shift pooling over the convergence of your thighs. Kneeling, you wait, torn between hiding and fully baring yourself to the cooling chamber.

He joins you thereafter, body rising over yours as his mouth sinks to touch your own, tongue chasing the give of your lips to feed you the heady prickle of inebriation in a plush glide. Too soon does he break from you, the ridge of his nose pressing a warm line through the wet of his kisses along your jaw, your throat. He bears you slowly down, back against the pillows, grip sliding up your thighs and bypassing where you need him entirely, up your hips, up, away—

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, fumbling at his wrist to make him pause in his pursuit.

He leans back, concern carving lines in his face. Before he speaks—before you lose all semblance of courage—you try to make it plain without words.

You part your thighs flat to the bed. Slowly, without thinking too hard, you draw the rumpled hem of your shift up over your belly, rasping against your flesh, and you show him the dewy softness that awaits, begging for his favour. You imagine it glistens in the low light of candle flame there, dappling gold on tender flesh starved for touch.

Daemon stares unblinking, surprise transforming liquid, dark. “What’s this?”

“I need—” You drag his fingers to your mound, resisting the urge to shudder. “Please?”

He huffs, not a sound of amusement but one of seeming triumph. Idly, as though indifferent, his thumb coasts a path along your folds, taking care not to part them. The nail catches just so upon the hood of your half-hidden bud, sparking and fizzling straight to all the pleasure centres of your body. “Look at you. I’ve left you wanting, have I?”

“Ye—yeah.” You tip your hips up invitingly, breaths like little pants coming quicker, too loud in the quiet. “It’s been so… so long since…”

You bite off a gasp as he crawls forward, lowers, deliberately splaying you open with the blunted, veiny drive of his shaft. He hisses at the pressure, the sleekness, the heat. You feel it too, the scorch of iron striking molten, and you tip your head up in search of some relief from the ache of it.

He stirs himself there, making no attempt to push in where he catches.

“Since what, sweetling?” His arms lock you in place, hand falling warningly to your throat as his teeth make divots in the lobe of your ear. “Since I touched you? Fucked you? Put my seed in your belly?”

“Yes!”

You nod furiously, clutching his fist around your windpipe tighter, squeezing so that you can feel the threat of it through layers of muscle. Grinding your hips up at him, your entrance tightens painfully as he once again slides above where you want him, knocking where you are most sensitive. Need drips slickly to the bedsheets beneath your core.

The enthusiasm of your agreement lures a noise of satisfaction from his chest. “Thought I was doing the right thing. Thought I was being a good husband, keeping my cock away from my poor little wife, scarcely free of the birthing bed.”

He reaches between your bodies with his other hand and grasps the root of himself to slap his cockhead against your petaled opening, the collision of skin producing an audible sucking sound. Your nipples strain to the ceiling, your reason tethered like wire to the churning of your belly.

Daemon grunts, grip shifting to wind against your nape, tugging sharply at the hairs there. “But I forgot, didn’t I? That you’re a whore.”

“I am,” you say, pitchy and breathless. “I’ve been waiting for you, kepus.”

He tugs again, grimacing as finally—finally—his girth aims true. The broad head of him slips inside, filling the empty spaces in you with weight and heat and heft until your cunny is as wide open as your lips are, a silent scream of sensation. Time slows and all the ages of the earth roll into the seconds that he piles himself inside you, forcing through the stubborn clench straight to the root. You wince, the fit tight like you remember, struggling to breathe at the deep-seated throb from somewhere below your ribs where he has engraved a path.

“Fuck.” He moans quietly against your shoulder, more to himself than to you. His cock digs deeper, harder, and you cry out, neatly unable to bear it. “Fuck, how are you still so tight?”

You squeeze around him at the words, revelling in the choked growl even as your body tries to curl in on itself from sheer stimulation, legs hitching up around his waist to drive him to your will. Embracing him, you bury your nose in his hair as he tilts you to his liking and withdraws, returning with a jolt that sparks uncomfortably in your gut. His mouth drags and leaves bruises along your neck as his thrusts start tentative, grow bold.

It is a testament to his own longing that he does not continue rattling off the filthiest declarations imaginable, fists clenched over your thighs and at the base of your skull with a strength that will mar you come morning. You smile at each throbbing plunge, bask in the squelch and judder of your forms moving in tandem, sweat smoothing the way. He pants, overcome, and you echo his sounds in a rhythm like ancient music.

Daemon’s lips venture lower, spine hunching atop you. He crows, jubilant, and you realise that your arousal is not the only fluid your body has released. Rising up, he takes you by both hipbones and settles you atop his thighs, tugging you over his lap and admiring the sight you make below him. He does not stop moving, length sluicing in minuscule revolutions, a constant bevy of sensation.

“Look at you,” he says again, palm smoothing flat over your stomach and gliding up over your breastbone, diverting to tweak one of your leaking nipples.

You squeal, feeling the rush of milk dribble down your breast. His nostrils flare, thumb stoppering the fall and chasing to its source before withdrawing and licking it from his skin with a lewd pop. You think he means to incite the other, only his digits venture lower and twist cruelly at your straining pearl. Tears spring to your eyes as something like the memory of peaking kindles in your stomach.

“Ah, there—all of you cries for me now, little girl. Isn’t that nice?” Callous satisfaction harshens the curve of his grin. “Eyes, tits, cunt… weeping for Uncle. And I’ll drink everything down.”

He presses the backs of your knees to the bed and descends, latching onto your nipple as his onslaught renews, pleasure in duality crystallizing at your chest and below and melding into one. You lose track of where you end and he begins, where the relief is greatest. He drags you to that elusive end in a swirl of writhing limbs and salt-musk sticking to the roof of your mouth as you call for him.

His thrusts come faster, shallower, making direct contact with the locus of feeling with each forward movement. The entirety of you gears toward the crest of the mountain, that moment of great and glorious bliss. When you finally reach it, you keen, bones and muscle coiling inward as a great wave surges outward.

You twist uncontrollably, fingernails scoring through his flesh as you come.

“Kepus,” you hear yourself babbling, clinging to his head at your other breast as you lurch discordantly across the mattress. “Harder, harder, more—”

You turn into a glutton desirous of this particular form of punishment, ravenous for the ache and the sting and the burn of it, and he responds in kind.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Each plea for more meets with a plunge of girth that sets you to shrieking, pushing yourself into them though your body urges you to flee. More, more, more. You are drunk on it, greedy for the assault. He is ever obliging to fuck harder, harder, faster.

And then—

Daemon withdraws, climbing over you with frantic disregard, hand a blur between his legs. He pushes you down, wrenches your jaw up, apart, digging into the hinge.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls, mean and monstrous with his cock aimed straight for your face, panting and slavering as he works himself over.

You stick your tongue out for good measure, straining against his hold for just one taste, but he does not let you. His fingers curl into the meat between your skull and spine, pain making you cross-eyed, and he shifts urgently on his knees.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—”

Seed spurts hot on the corner of your mouth, along your cheek, across your closed eyelids before he brings his length to your lips. You pull eagerly at him, rising to bring him further into your mouth even as his fist knocks unkindly against your teeth. His caustic flavour, familiar and missed, spreads across your palate, and you drink of him like a penitent come to worship at the altar of the gods.

Mindlessly, he grinds down at you, softening girth making you gag ever so slightly. Spend clings to your lashes and stings in your eyes as you look up at him, but you cannot care.

He stills, winded, chest expanding and collapsing with a thirst for air. Then, with a gentleness lacking in these last moments, he works himself free of you, flopping to your side with a sigh and a weak noise of contentment. He looks relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in weeks. Moons, even.

You brush stray strands from his forehead, smoothing starlight from his weathered temples. He turns into the touch, mouth meeting the inside of your wrist.

“You really are too good to me, sweetling,” he murmurs.

His lips press to the tip of your nose, palm warm and comforting on your back. Fingers trace patterns into your flesh, at first seeming meaningless until you recognise the strokes, deliberate and sure, for what they are.

‘Avy jorrāelan.’ I love you.

“I know,” you say, answering both spoken and unspoken sentiment, your heart utterly full. In turn, you trace the same glyphs on the skin of his chest. From the smile that fills his eyes with light incandescent, he knows, too.

You lay in the quiet, basking in the surety of each other.

But it cannot last. You are loath to break the serenity, though you speak nonetheless, making a weak gesture to the pearly gleam that clumps your lashes, streaks your face.

“Do you mind… perhaps getting me a washcloth? I… cannot see.”

It is only now that he appears to notice the state he has left you in. With another kiss and an amused bark of laughter, he moves to do your bidding.

You settle back, content, watching your uncle stride fully nude to the wash basin to wet the cloth he has scrounged from its resting place. While you wait, you count all your many blessings: your babes, happy and settled and thriving. Your sister, skilful and kind in her confidence. Athfiezar, fierce and devoted and liberating when the walls feel as though they are caving in. Your tutor, your healer, your maester, your attendants, your life here on this isle, in this time and place and season. Your husband, your lover, the very benefactor of all you have come to hold dear.

Daemon kneels beside you, sponging away the worst of his deeds with a sure hand and steady smirk. “I’ll be sure to mind my aim next time, hm?”

Next time. An implicit vow.

You feel it again—a glow like the pinprick of daylight at a tunnel’s end, warming the chill from your bones and the frost from your heart, slow and sure and stubborn in the face of the complications that are yet to come. Something thawing, soothing, deadening the weight of grief and hardships past.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes closed at the sensation of his frame moulded against yours, real and true and necessary. “Next time.”

Something like hope.

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ebaylee422 · 1 year

Text

I Want Your Video

Steve x Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: Steve won the poll, when I first started really reading fanfiction on tumblr early 2020-2021 there was a fic with mutual masturbation with BestFriend!Steve Harrington and this plays into the very heavy. I’ve been wanting to fuck you forever part for inspo. Also just love Djo’s music so a lot of my WIPs have titles of his music. Requests are open if you want more sexy Steve, thank you for reading!

Summary: Family Video just became a little less family friendly with the new addition of the 18 and older erotic video room. You are more curious than your co-workers about what a dirty movie includes, the sexual tension between you and dreamboat Steve Harrington does nothing for your pent up frustrations.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Family Video Worker!Reader, Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Max, El and Will love to pester Steve at his jobs, and gross mentions of Keith.

Warning/Tags: SMUT (Minors DNI), Steve has a huge cock, dry humping, marking, fingering (f receiving), blow job, overstim, small nubbins of insecurities with reader and Steve, Steve and reader share playful banter, a ruined Armchair, dirty talk, pet names, riding (save a horse ride Steve Harrington), we all love boobies, creampie, cum play? As always lmk if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 6.2k

"Well I knew they called it Family Video for a reason, I just never thought they'd take it so literally." You said as the three of you looked to the closed door with the new 18 plus warning sign, taking away your break room.

"Please stop mentioning it.” Robin pinches at the bridge of her nose

"What? At least people don't like, deal porn or try to find it at a public library." Steve adds setting the return tapes on the counter.

"Why would someone go to the library for PORN?" Robin boasts turning to her best friend,

"I don't know Buckley, people are stupid when horny." Steve admonishes

“Does that mean your always horny?” You tease, Steve opens his mouth to retaliated but Robin stops him.

"No, now we just have Keith, who was already always in the back room. Potentially watching adult films on the clock and putting them back." Robin shakes in disgust.

"Like a trial run, he’ll be able to give great recommendations." You add nose scrunched with laughter bubbling in your chest.

"Ew gross." Robin said nauseated

"Look he's creepy, but Keith is not that brave. Any one of us could walk back there." Steve says pointing to the ever closed office and backroom where Keith either naps or throws together a schedule.

"Maybe he wants to be caught?" you nod, taking new tapes to stock in the romance section.

“Maybe he wants you to catch him?” Steve wiggles his eyebrows following you,

"Maybe you want me to smack you in the face-" You turn to find him closer than you anticipated only a few inches separating your body from his.

"What? Don't be a prude now, you're the one who made the conversation interesting." Steve cut you off, chest puffed in challenge. His woodsy, ash, and vanilla smell intoxicating you as the spearmint on his breath floated you back to reality.

"That's because I'm interesting." You dare with a raised eyebrow, as his eyes flicker to your cherry lips.

"God please stop flirting in front of me or I'll get a cavity." Robin whines behind the counter.

"We're not flirting-" You scold, "Okay-" Steve holds his hands up in defense at the same time. You huff and continue down the aisle to stock, red in the face with embarrassment.

Towards the end of your shift the school rush dying down, you sit on the counter with Robin inventorying returns in the computer. Steve is holding the door open for a blonde girl popping her bubble gum with glossed lips. Giggling as Steve makes a fool of himself her chest rising with the laughter, over a Star Wars joke she didn’t understand. Explaining how she had been looking for the film in Alderaan places, and how he was always happy to help a pretty girl like her.

You understood the joke, just because he didn’t know what Ewoks were didn’t mean he never paid attention when you talked about your favorite sci-fi series.

“Stupid.” You mumbled under your breathe, rewinding tapes.

“Huh?” Robin asked, her doe eyes floating along the computers interface confused her mouth hung open.

"Robs, have you ever watched an adult film?" You asked, aggravated and pent up.

"Yeah but there's not a lot in my area of attraction so I just stick to the magazines." Robin motioned toward herself, still clueless to your annoyance.

"Uh-huh, well I want to watch one." Finally being decisive on the embarrassing topic,

"Are we seriously still talking about this?" Steve chips in

"Did you seriously just strike out? You talked with her for like 30 seconds." You said infuriated, turning around to see him leaning over the counter with his stupid fluffy hair and tight polo. Sans a phone number written on his arms or a torn piece of notebook paper.

"Just remember Y/N that's all a man can give sometimes, porn isn't realistic." Robin added knocking her head into your leg in frustrated groan.

“How would you know that?” Steve scrutinized his best friend,

“Is it true?!” Robins eyes were blown wide in astonishment, they immediately started arguing with you the only barrier between them.

"Okay, I'm just gonna go back there and pick one." You slide from the counter, move Robin out of your way, they paused mid-argument to poke at you.

"Go for it, have fun." Robin called

"But not too much!" Steve yelped when she pinched him,

Opening the cliché room, of neon lights with each film had it’s own space on the shelves you began to read some of the titles. Private Teacher, Taboo, I Like to be Watched, Educating Nina, Talk Dirty to Me 1 and 2, 8 to 4, there's honestly too many. So let's just say that the first one, Private Teacher, sounds like it has some plot. You slip it into your vest, walking out of the room to find Steve surrounded by his children.

“Please Steve what’s back there?”

“We just want to take a quick peak!”

“For the millionth time, no. You’re barely 13!”

“We’re actually 14 and or older Steve.” Max says deadpan standing arms crossed next to a girl you think was named Jane or El you weren’t 100% sure.

“Yeah kids leave the guy alone just because he would sneak you into the movie's at Scoops does not mean you get free rain of the porno’s.”

“Porno’s?!” Dustin yells as the rest of the kids shush him, looking around the other Family Video patrons.

“Yeah that’s enough Steve’s posse, your scaring away paying customers.” You shush them out the door,

"Come on, I bet you have some criticism about at least one of these dirty movies." Robin asks Steve who is using every fiber in his being not to embarrass himself in front of you.

"Actually, I haven't watched any of them yet," Steve says while he re-faces the horror films the kids probably messed with earlier.

“Bullshit-” You butt in, Steve turns to defend himself but is saved by Robin’s blabbermouth.

"I do but mostly for the... well you know, porno's aren't progressive in my territory yet." Robin held up the one, where the woman's boobs were almost completely out of her bra and there was a string of spit from her mouth to them.

"Well we could change this week's movie night at my place? This one seemed well loved. 3 rents already, and it’s only been a few weeks." I grabbed 'Private Teacher' walking over to Steve, the man had the woman bent over the desk, one of his hands pulling her hair so show her face for the camera. Her school girl costume left a tasteful amount of skin on show just for the cover. The tagline read ‘Sometimes A Little Private Instruction Is All You Need To Make The Grade’

He only glanced at the cover, "Yeah I'm good, I get my fill with my right hand and watching sappy some romance movies over and over again."

"Ewwww," Robin drones behind the counter. You laugh at his in response holding onto your sides while walking back over to her.

"Obviously, not in that order!" He follows, you pull out some rental money setting on the counter as Robin rang it up.

"Oh come on now, Stevie don't be the prude of the group. Robin will be there too and I know you don't have anything better to do. Since you're always at my house anyway." He scoffs hiding the tape under his elbow when another customer walks in.

"Yeah to get away from my asshole Dad, not to watch porn with you."

"I think he would enjoy the fact you're actually finding a hobby," Robin says, putting the tape into a plastic bag, brushing some hair out of Steve's face. He sticks out his tongue mocking her.

"Yes Robin, you're a truly hilarious comedian of the century. What do I have to do for you both to drop this? Especially as my best friend and basically my boss." You giggle at the obvious answer.

"Just come by tonight, Steve. I don’t wanna watch this alone. And like always bring your tissues for the movie," Robin almost falls over laughing, when you lean over the counter pressing a kiss to his heated cheek before waving goodbye. You spend the rest of your night picking up the apartment, filling the fridge with your friends favorite snacks, and vacuuming. You thought about lighting a candle, debating if that was too romantic to watch a Porno with your co-workers. Lighting it against those thoughts because it made the place smell nice. A knock at the door took you away from the sink of dishes from your breakfast.

“Come in! It’s open guys!” You yell turning off the faucet,

“What if I was a serial killer, Y/N? You’d let me wander about your living room?” Steve brushed his front past you setting a six-pack in the fridge.

“The only serial thing you are Steve is a serial pain in my butt.” You stick you tongue out, head lurching towards the direction of the living room only to find it empty.

“Ha-ha, ha.” Steve mocked, taking off his grey jacket to lay it across the counter before nose diving into the fridge again.

"How was your day? Where’s Buckley?" You pondered wiping your wet hands, the moving his jacket to a chair at the small four person dining table.

“Hanging out with a girl. And other than this chick at work begging me to watch porn with her, it was actually really busy." He threw a grape at where you were at the table, tossing a handful into his mouth with a crunch.

"I totally forgot about it until I was grabbing my wallet at the store, I was kinda embarrassed when I rediscovered it. The lady probably thought I was high as a kite!"

"Because you are," he drooled a little bit, speaking with a full mouth, raiding the fridge full of groceries.

"There's nothing wrong with blowing off some steam with a bit of erotica. Everyone does it," you turned tossing the soiled grape back at him, joining him in the kitchen again.

"Yeah that's gross, it's unspoken. Even creepy old men who can't get it up do it." He swallowed his mouth full then making an obscene gesture with his hand.

"Ew, gross Steve.” You say hands held up in disgust,

"See-"

"Well I'm not a creepy old man," You argued, taking the tape out of your bag. "Besides, it can't be that good or bad. Almost like a true neutral, just people going at it like animals." Walking into the living room, you closed the blinds and navy curtains before setting the tape into the already plugged in VCR.

"Okay hang on a minute, there's way better ways at blowing off steam." Steve interrupts, the fridge slams as his steps grow louder.

"Name a few for me, Lover Boy." You scoffed still bent at the waist, setting everything up at the entertainment center. Round shape of your ass in those acid wash jeans begging to be released. The sight made Steve’s own tighter around his crotch.

"I don't think you want to know mine," he says breathlessly, voice a bit deeper. You stood up and turned to where he stood, his back up against the archway that separated the two rooms. The tape started playing in the middle of the stars going at each other, extremely loud feminine moans rang from the Television. It broke you from the stare down, rushing to turn it down. He came up behind you on the rug, turning everything off altogether. After a pause of shock, you rolled over laughing against the entertainment center, covering your red face with your hands. Steve huffed sitting back on his calves, laughing at it as well. Eyes drifting to the swell of your chest as the laughing made it rise a fall. Dragging the hands down your face, leaning against the shelves. You clocked his stare immediately, his pupils are blown wide, lips slick as if he just wet them. Polo tight across his shoulders but untucked showing off a flash of his soft tummy. You swallowed hard catching your breath.

“Steve?” You reach out to him, his arms grip back at your elbows pulling you up on your knees towards his knees. “I wanna know, I want to know.” His nose pressed to your cheek, lip grazing over yours as he spoke.

“I can show you.” His voice broke, husky and deep exhale along your skin. Your resolve faltered lips fitting like a puzzle against his. You pulled far enough away to split for air, only Steve followed pressing you closer together. Hand resting along your neck, holding you to him.

"What's wrong?" You looked at him worried a line creasing your forehead he reached out to soothe.

"Nothing, you're just so...beautiful." He let his eyes wander, admiring that you’d even gave him the time of day.

“I want you. I want you to show me.”

“Okay.” Connecting again fireworks exploded behind your eyes. He pulled your top lip between his, you returned by licking the slope of his bottom lip from an open mouth kiss. Steve groaned, allowing you in. He tasted of the grapes from moments ago and spearmint of the gum he chewed to stop smoking, it was sickly sweet. My hand from his thigh came up to brush away the free fallen hair from getting in our way, the strands of hair were so soft, surprising, no matter how many times you’d wished to touch them. Pushing your chest against his, raising up on your knees deepening the kiss. He sunk down to a seated position, crossing his legs and leaning his head back to a lower level. It gave more access, he kept his hands in nice places like; nape of your neck, tangled hair, cheeks, small of the back and waist. You nipped his bottom lip, pulling gently then watched it fall back in place. He gripped one of your thighs, sending shocks of anticipation up your core. He kneaded, silently wanting for sometime. Everything was too good to break away and use words. You just obediently moved one leg at a time to sit on his lap. Using his shoulders to steady, lowering onto his lap. He whimpered in anticipation in you mouth, your heat grazed the zipper of his jeans. At the friction you gasped, lips swollen and lungs out of air, as you pressed foreheads together. Eyes opening to see him staring with hopefulness, eyes wide open. You teased lightly trailing lips over his. Waiting for a reaction, but he stayed firm. Hands on the ground by his sides holding you upright. Breathing as one for a moment before he spoke,

"I've thought about this moment for a very long time," He said only for the two of you, your fingers rubbed the five o’clock shadow of his jaw in your waiting hands "I want to, so terribly. I don't know where to go from here..."

He smiled a dorky smile into your skin, keening at the contact of you against him.

"Then stop talking and kiss me again." He obeyed, trailing his lips down to your jaw, throat and to your collar, moving the fabric slightly he started softly sucking and rolling his tongue over the area. Your hands desperately clung to the back of his head, he moved closer to the pot of your collarbones and throat leaving wet kisses. He stopped his mouth looking up, with those caramel eyes so full of devotion. Mind going fuzzy, seeing the way he not only looked but saw into you. The way he always has. "Don’t stare at me like that,"

"Like what?" He let the collar of the shirt scrunch back in place the movement made you squeeze your thighs around his middle, eyes rolling back in his skull.

"Like you want to kiss me or something." His hands both came up to brush his thumbs along your ribs, fronts pressed against each other.

"I will never stop looking at you like that, no matter what happens.” He smiled, “I gave you my heart long ago." You kissed him more primal this time, needing to taste him and etch the feeling of him into your mind. He was moaning into the embrace, he still barely touched as you tugged at his shirt below, when he broke contact to pull it over his head you stopped the kiss to admire his chest.

"Steve..." You wheezed through bloated lips. "Touch me, it's okay. You can't hurt me" He kissed back hard, slipping his hands underneath your tight work shirt, his hands cold against the hot skin covering your spine. Breaking free from his lips pressing kisses on his face, down his throat cooing into him when he unclasped your bra with one hand in a single fluid motion. Running his hands over your bare back, unknowingly while you rotated your hips in small circles against his wanting more. Craving the contact and friction of him against you. He daintily ran his hands down your body hesitantly gripping the plush of your ass adding more pressure to the growing friction. His zipper felt so good against your own, letting go of your lips on his neck throwing your head back. As the feeling of his hard-on pressed up against your clit. Putting both hands on the floor behind you while he moved your hips against each other in sync, panting and grinding seeking release. Steve's abdomen flexed as he twitched under you, he was cumming loudly moaning your name from his pink lips. It sounded like a song when he said it, his release came fast, his chest heaving heavily as he pulled your body back against him. Hugging each other till lips grazed, as he came down from his high. You tried to suppress the giggle as his hands traced shapes along the small of your back.

"What are you so giddy about? You just made me cream my pants like a middle schooler." You shook your head tracing at the mark I left on his shoulder,

"Well since we're already past the point of no return. I didn't think you would be so loud." you pulled back lip bitten between teeth,

"Maybe if you weren't mauling me like a hungry lion, I could've stayed quiet." He tucks his head under your chin,

"I told you, I’m a lion girl not a ninja.” He laughed across your throat warming you as he kissed the flesh again. “Maybe I should pounce effectively, so I can really hear you scream my name." Steve stopped abruptly to meet your eyes, pupils blown wide, you felt immediately self-conscious blabbering out an apology before he could turn you down. "I’m so sorry, was that too much?"

"No...” He purred, this close you could tell the scent of him was distinctly cedar. “I've actually never been more turned on." He pushed his lips to mine, rolling our tongues against each other, knowing exactly what you liked. He tightened his grip on on the fat of your hips and making you moan into him, pulling away his lips, forehead glistening, his eyes full of lust. He trailed his fingers up to help the offensive fabric of your shirt off, the bra slowly falling the rest of the way off your shoulders. His length twitched against the inside of your thigh again, he was entranced by the image. Still as a statue until guiding his lips down to the spot on you chest that made the world melt. He kissed everywhere, you kept each hand in his hair scratching at his scalp pleasantly. Leaning forward he placed your back against the carpet, hovering on top of but keeping himself slotted between your legs. Involuntarily moaning when he licked at erect nipple, he mirrored the same to the other one. His dick throbbed against the stain of cum, straining against the fabric. Kissing each while he unzipped the high waist of your jeans. You bucked your hips and helped him pull them down, he took them off your trapped ankles, restarting his descent to kiss down the length of your body again. Wet open mouth kisses making shooting sparks through your body at the intimate contact, grabbing his hand on the ground.

“You are even more beautiful than my dreams ever allowed. Everything, you are everything.” His eyes silently asking for permission. As he slid a hand under the fabric of the green panties. You gasped loudly at the unbridled new contact of his palm, lowering to gather the dampness, trailing it up to your clit. He circled twice as his other fingers began to slowly plunge inside. You keened, calves dug into the bare flesh around his waist, “You're so wet for me,” sighing, hands finding purchase on his biceps, he hissed as his face fell into your neck.

“Uhh… Harder.” You held his arms with such intensity, leaving crescent marks into the skin digging hard into his muscle. Turning you chin down to find his lips to kiss, and silencing moans together his thumb began to swirl faster, his middle and ring finger able to go a little deeper with the changing hand position. Not being able to control the heat coursing through, you squeezed his hips harder. He whimpered, pressing himself up against your thigh rutting the fabric against himself for some contact. “Your fingers feel so good…” Moving lower, spreading wider to move your hips against his fingers, they worked expertly to consume all your senses. He pushed in a little further and harder, forcing you to look at what he was doing so wonderfully between your legs. Moaning obscene words, as your back arched further his fingers scissoring to stretch your walls. Clenching around his fingers that disappeared inside. “Holy shit- don’t stop.” Your hands fell to the floor grabbing the shag of the rug underneath, as muscles tensed unlike anything you’ve felt before. You came hard without warning, the orgasm spread through you, completely overwhelming, your legs shook out your high as he kept going, pressure building through your bladder before you felt a light gush.

"Fuck" He whispered in you ear, you could feel the shit eating grin off of his body language.

"I haven’t done that before," you tell him.

"Yeah me either, ya know to a girl… I do that every time," he said into your neck, your cheeks instantly flushed. Laughing at his dorkiness, he moved your panties back in place. His fingers parted his lips, licking them clean of your arousal. You felt him throbbing against your thigh as you lightly pushed off the ground. Taking Steve's hand, you pushing him back to climb on the Lazy Boy you'd recently bought.

“What are you thinking, Sweets?” his voice was dark, he moved up the chair and sat. Spreading his legs for you, like the good boy he’d been.

“I just want to clean up my seat, Lover Boy.” You knelt down unbuckling his jeans, pulling them down and his ruined underwear. Letting him finally be free from the confines of the fabric, his cock flung back up pre leaving a pearlescent trail on the course hair of his happy trail. Steve was massive, how he’d fit into those jeans daily made your head spin. You would make him fit, even if his cock impaled your insides.

“You don’t have to, no one’s been able to take all of me before.” He took your wanderlust as fear, and shit now you had to prove him wrong too. Your nails ran up his thighs as you collected some spit in the front of your mouth. Letting it drip onto the head, nails gripping his thigh to hold him in place you took the other hand and ran it across his length. Hitting the large vein along his shaft with your thumb, he pushed his head back against the plush chair. Fighting to buck up into you with everything in his body and mind not to blow his load again or buck up into you. He was breathing extremely heavily now, you gently kissed his red tip and watched as his fingers dug into the armrests. He held his breath a bit before you squeezed his thigh, then he exhaled. You then licked a long stripe down his shaft, you came back up to the tip flicking it with your tongue.

“Jesus, stop with the teasing Sweets,” You smiled like a siren, before holding him with a hand stroking up and down with your lips wrapped around the tip. He accidently to bucked his hips, you pressed his pelvis down taking in his full length.

“Holy shit!” Steve gasped. Hollowing your cheeks, you worked him to a pulp as your jaw went slack. His hands reached out to grab the hair that fell covering how you looked sucking him. Pulling it all to one hand, he didn’t need to guide your head, you were able to bob your head down him with a fair amount of ease with how wet you’d gotten his shaft. Tearing up and gaging if you went too slow, but it was well worth the noises coming from his beautiful lips. He watched in awe as you swallowed around him, eyes watery and spit slick chin, moving your second hand under his heavy sack you massaged them with each upstroke. HIs eye closed tightly as he twitched inside your mouth throwing his head back warning you. You took it all with a delightful swallow, helping him ride out the rest of his high with a hand. The only time he pulled his makeshift ponytail was when he could’ve cried from the stimulation. You relented with a pornographic pop, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and slowly stood going to straddle him, he playfully grabbed your body and pulled you to him on the lounge chair.

“That was way better than any other girl or me just watching porn.” you looked at him mouth agape, he was eye level with your bare chest.

“See, I knew you watched porn. A shit ton of it.” you slapped his chest.

“Yeah, but nothing compares to the real thing,” he began to kiss the marks he already started on your chest, in places only he’d only been allowed too. Your hands cupped his face for him to look at you. He smiled his beautiful heartfelt smile,

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“I don’t know but Robin is the best wing women ever. She told me if I didn’t kiss you tonight I shouldn’t even bother showing my face at work tomorrow.”

“Wait, what is Robin doing?”

“She cancelled so we could in her words ‘either fuck away the tension out or kill each other’ .”

“Well she is definitely my favorite lesbian. That multi-lingual B is a genius. I would’ve let you do this even if you’d just. I don’t know asked me on a date.”

“Bullshit-, really?”

“Are you kidding?! You are so out of my league Steve, I’ve never been in your ballpark ever in my life.” He grimaces, thumb tracing idling along your hip bone.

“I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful, smart and caring girl. I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing, and I selfishly want you all to myself.” he whispers with affection you’d never heard from him before. Adam’s apple bobbing with his thick swallow of emotion.

“Then you have me.” he bit back a smile as his lip clashed with yours passionately kissing you, he faintly pulled your hair. You moaned at the action, spine tingling as you roamed your hands around his frame. Mapping out ever mole and divot along his heated skin. Trailing them back and forth on his chest like a sensual massage. He moved his hands to get a better angle on your hips, and began rowing them against himself. You both groaned at the friction, “Look who’s the tease now,” you pouted at him as a finger inched it way to your clit tracing tight consistent circles. Your nails tear at his shoulders with pleasure, making him shudder under you. ‘God how many rounds could you go with him’ “Please… uh. Tell me you're ready.” you push your head into his neck, his fingers had already fine-tuned your pleasure. He stopped, fingers yanking your scalp to crash your lips to his. He still rowing you against his length, until his lungs screamed for air.

“I’m always ready, how do you feel about this?” he stops his motions, you felt unfulfilled when the movement ceased. You brain finally grasping some clarity, Steve would stop everything here if you wanted him too. Helping you re-dress and seeing himself out. Never telling a soul if you’d asked, he’d be celibate if you’d ask. Buying you the finest ring until your wedding night then ravishing you in your honeymoon bed.

“This doesn’t change the way I feel about you. You’re perfect to me Steve.” he gave you a sinful smile, reaching his hand under your adjoined hips pushing you up onto your knees. While he finished working himself up, you waited as patiently as you could by marking his neck.

“God you're so wet for me, these panties are drenched after sucking me. We should’ve gotten rid of them, already.” His eyes were playful, and needy for more and all of you. He helped you stand, putting your hands on his shoulder to balance you as you took them off. Just the sight of you fully naked made his heart ache, he kissed your arm lips too far for his liking. Wanting even more contact, he grabbed your waist again leaning back into the chair. You kissed him lazy, you both were fucked out of your minds already. Now it was just comforting, you had all the time in the world. It was slow, sweet, his lips were so soft you still felt them all over your body. His hands roamed but craved to rest on your chest above your heart. You pressed your forehead against his, catching your breath. His hands on your hips, guided you gently down as you felt him at your entrance.

“Take your time, Sweets. I want us to enjoy this,” nipping at your forearm while sitting himself farther up the chair, feet still planted on the ground.

“You want me to top, you?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I haven’t done that… Before.” You told him shyly,

“Well, well. Looks like we're about to enter a new realm of pleasure for you…” Licking his lips, “just take me in your hand and guide yourself down at your own speed, Sweetheart.” His comforting words sent a tingle down your spine, you put your hands on the soft skin where his pelvis lies. He just observes your movements gripping your hips like a steering wheel, mouth awestruck as you lower yourself down onto him. His hands dig into you, as you let him fill your insides. Immediately he’s touching things you’ve never felt, it’s painful in the most remarkable way.

“Shit, babe. Oh my god. Didn’t-Didn’t think you’d take all of me on the first go.” he shifts pulling your chest so he can latch on to his dark purple mark there. It causes a rush inside you even just the slight motion making you want to explode.

“Feels so full, god your fucking humongous Steve.” You whined, high pitched and needy. The ach of his cock started to morph from a burn to a stretch faster than you thought as your arousal dripped down your thighs. In brief circles you moved your hips against him, keeping him completely sheathed inside. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, he moves his hands to your thighs squeezing hard making you grind faster. He comes up for air from you chest and lets out a gracious moan,

“Stevie, pull the handle.” you whimper at him,

“What?” he mutters breathlessly.

“Holy shit, just…” you're on the brink of another powerful orgasm, pussy gripping him like a vice ”pull the handle back, trust me.” he lets go of one of your thighs frantically looking for the handle on the side of the recliner. He finally finds it and pulls hard, sending his lower body up into yours and your upper body over his. You both moan in ecstasy, his hand going back to your thigh. Sitting back up, you place one hand on his lower abdomen and the other on his hairy thigh behind you. He continues to groan affirmations and your name at the changed position, sending you over a small cliff. Only adding to the larger knot in your stomach, running up your body.

“Keep going I want you to cum, cum around my fat cock.”

“Don’t stop, stay right there. I want it all.” You pant feeling him twitch inside you, moving your hips with his.

“God you're so wet, and you ride me so good Sweetheart.” he playfully smacks your ass, you change your position again to bring your lips to his. He moves your body up and down while kissing you, letting you dominate his mouth while he starts to push harder into you. Propelling himself up, while his hands push you down into him in an erratic give and take. This is what you’ve needed, this was perfect but not even the start for both of you. He continues to praise you through breaths of pleasure “I got you” , “I can make you feel so good, Sweetheart.”, he gets filthier and louder and you keep moving, riding each other to passionate oblivion. Your mind ventures to his lips all over you, yours on him, the coil in between you wraps him tightly inside you. Your body starts to shake from the high, you press your upper body against his chest the hair rubbing against your hardened nipples.

"Good girl, milk my cock. Feels so good, gunna cum. You gotta move Sweets."

“Want to feel you, feel you dripping out of me Steve.” He mewls, clinging to you.

“Shit. Beg me for it, tell me how bad you want me to cum inside you.”

“Oh Steve,” you open your eyes, pressing your forehead down to meet him, his open too. You clutch your walls around him harder as he tries to finish riding your orgasm, “Please.” You whimper. That’s all it takes he gasps and finally bursts in you. Lips soothing against yours for that other contact. You feel the hot liquid inside you, wringing him dry of everything that he could possibly have left.

Separating for air out of the kiss, feeling his hot breaths against your cheeks, he groans, swallowing hard at the sensitivity. You brush your hair off of your sweaty face, holding onto the back of his neck to see him better. His eyes gleamed with passion, you smiled back.

“My legs are jelly,” you laugh in his face,

“I’ll take that as an answer to my question then,” he smiles, lifting your hips up. He easily slips out of you, you groan in frustration at the emptiness between your legs. Hissing at the loss as well, his abs quiver against the softness of your soft tummy. He pushes the foot rest back, so he can sit upright in the chair. Capturing his lips in yours, leaning you back as he holds you manhandling your hips, rotating you forward to help you stand.

“I could kiss you forever.” He admits kissing your shoulders as you put your feet on the cold floor, pushing off of his knees. You wobble slightly,

“See,” you turned to face him again, pulling him up to stand together face to face. He stumbled a bit too, “completely fucked out of my mind.” He wraps his arms around your waist swaying you slightly in an embrace.

“You did so good, Sweetheart. We should get cleaned up.”

“I did good, how did you not run out of cum? Three rounds your insatiable.”

"Told you, I don't joke about my porn." He winks, kissing the corner of your mouth as he picks up your discarded clothes on the floor of the living room.

"No wonder you're idolized by 14 year old boys." You roll your eyes, picking up your panties. This time when you bend own he can see his spend dripping down your slit. He chuckles from behind you a free hand, coasting down your stomach to your heat. You gasp as his fingers collect his cum from your thighs, you spin in his hold to meet his eyes.

"Open." Steve commands, eyes clouding with lust as he watches you stick your tongue out for him. His fingers slide along your tongue covered in each other's spend. It's comforting, salty, and heady against your tongue. You moan around him, sucking the taste clean from his fingers. He fingers slip out tongue replacing them, as he tips your chin up to meet his lips deeper, tongue kneading yours as he memorizes you. Inside and out.

“You know,” You murmur into his mouth as his mouth strays from yours coasting to mouth down your jaw. “I have a camcorder somewhere in my closet.” He freezes lips parted and eyes wide.

“Yeah? You don’t want to finish the movie? I was just starting to enjoy it.” You pout your lips, while he picks up all of the clothes from various places you threw them.

“Yeah... We could or..?”

“Or?”

“If you wanted we could make are own video?” Steve doesn’t even dictate your question with a response only hoisting you over his shoulder and burying you in the mattress for the rest of the night.

Masterlist

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #family video #lesbians are the best wing women #robin buckley matchmaker #stranger things smut #stranger things season 4 #no minors allowed #reader insert #oneshot #stranger things

2K notes · View notes

yournameloveskpop · 17 days

Text

Oblivious. . .

Paring: Yeonjun x Oblivious Reader

Warning: none

Style: fluff, comedy, oblivious and innocent reader, romance, friendship

Word count: 5.515

"Yeonjun, look at this!" Y/N exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement over a simple street performer they'd stumbled upon. Her enthusiasm for life's simple pleasures never ceased to amaze him.

He smiled, watching her with a warmth that only she could evoke. "You find joy in everything, don't you?" he remarked, not just referring to the performer but to the essence of Y/N herself.

She turned to him, her smile unwavering. "Why not? Life's too short to not enjoy the little things. Besides, I get to enjoy them with you."

Yeonjun's heart fluttered at her words, yet a part of him ached, wondering if she'd ever see him in a different light. Despite the frustration her obliviousness sometimes caused, he found it endearing, choosing to let her be her wonderfully carefree self. Their unique dynamics often led to confused and questioning looks from friends and bandmates.

To outsiders, their interactions seemed to blur the lines between friendship and something more. They cuddled, shared kisses on the lips, and held hands—gestures typically reserved for couples.

One afternoon, while hanging out with their closest friends, Wooyoung and Chanbin, a moment unfolded that left everyone but Y/N contemplating the nature of their relationship.

As Y/N leaned in to give Yeonjun a peck on the lips—a gesture that had become a casual expression of her affection—Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Chanbin, equally shocked, turned to Wooyoung, his eyes wide.

"Are you guys sure you're just friends?" Wooyoung couldn't help but ask, the disbelief evident in his voice.

Y/N laughed, a sound as light and carefree as her personality. "Of course! Yeonjun is my best friend. Aren't friends supposed to show love and care for each other?"

Chanbin exchanged a look with Wooyoung, both of them dumbfounded. "Yeah, but not usually with a kiss on the lips," Chanbin muttered, still trying to wrap his head around their relationship.

Yeonjun, caught between embarrassment and the rapid pounding of his heart, could only offer a shy smile. Despite the confusion, the warmth and happiness he felt whenever Y/N was around kept his spirits high.

Later, as they walked along the riverbank, Wooyoung nudged Yeonjun gently.

"You know, it's okay to want more," he said, his tone soft, understanding the unspoken feelings his friend harbored.

Yeonjun let out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the water's surface. "I know, but I can't force her to see something she doesn't. Besides, I cherish what we have. I'm afraid of ruining it."

Chanbin, joining the conversation, added, "But don't you think she might actually feel the same and just doesn't know how to express it? I mean, the way she looks at you, it's not just any friend's look."

Yeonjun considered his words, the possibility stirring a flicker of hope within him. Yet, the fear of misinterpreting their friendship and the potential fallout kept him hesitant.

As the day turned to evening, the group found themselves at a cozy café, the warmth of the ambiance contrasting the cool air outside. Y/N sat next to Yeonjun, her head resting on his shoulder as they all shared stories and laughed over past memories.

It was moments like these that Yeonjun cherished the most—the simplicity, the laughter, and the undeniable connection he felt with Y/N. Yet, a part of him longed for her to understand the depth of his feelings, to see beyond the bounds of friendship.

"Hey, Yeonjun," Y/N whispered, drawing his attention away from the conversation. "You know, I really appreciate you being in my life. You make everything brighter."

Her words, sincere and heartfelt, caused his heart to skip a beat. "Y/N, you have no idea how much that means to me," he replied, his voice laden with emotion.

The evening wore on, filled with more laughter and shared glances between Yeonjun and Y/N. Their friends couldn't help but marvel at the bond between them, a bond that seemed to transcend the usual definitions of friendship. A few days later, the usual buzz of the HYBE cafeteria was complemented by a gathering that seemed to blur the lines between several groups under the HYBE labels and beyond. There, amidst the laughter and chatter, sat TXT, along with Y/N, who had managed to forge close bonds with not only TXT but also members from Le Sserafim, NewJeans, ENHYPEN, and even Seventeen.

Y/N's easygoing and bubbly nature had endeared her to many, including Le Sserafim's YunJin and Sakura, NewJeans' Daniel, ENHYPEN's Jay and Jake, and Seventeen's Vernon and Mingyu. Today, they were all congregated around a large table, the air filled with the warmth of friendship and the occasional tease.

Sakura, always observant, caught the subtle yet intimate gesture of Y/N's hand finding its way into Yeonjun's.

She couldn't help but nudge YunJin beside her, motioning towards the pair with a curious glance. "Look," she whispered, "do you think...?"

YunJin, who had been watching the duo for a while now, understood immediately. "Oh, that? Y/N does that all the time with Yeonjun. It's their thing, I guess," she explained, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement.

Before Sakura could probe further, Jay and Jake arrived, greeting everyone with their characteristic enthusiasm. "Hey, everyone!" Jay called out, sliding into a seat next to Yeonjun, while Jake found a spot beside Y/N.

The conversation picked up seamlessly, a blend of updates, jokes, and the kind of light-hearted teasing that only close friends could get away with. Jay, with a mischievous grin, couldn't resist a jab at Yeonjun. "So, Yeonjun, still Y/N's favorite friend, huh?"

Y/N, bubbling with her usual vivacity, chimed in without a beat. "Of course! Yeonjun's my favorite 'boyfriend'!" she declared, her words innocent but loaded with unintended meaning.

The statement caught Yeonjun completely off-guard, causing him to choke on his drink. The sudden commotion sent ripples of confusion and laughter around the table.

Sakura, seizing the moment, leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "So, have you two finally made it official?" she asked, her eyes darting between Yeonjun and Y/N.

YunJin, barely containing her laughter, watched the scene unfold with glee. "Official? What do you mean?" Y/N asked, genuinely perplexed by the question.

Sakura, momentarily at a loss for words, clarified, "Officially girlfriend and boyfriend."

Y/N paused, her brows knitting in thought before responding with a logic only she could muster. "I guess so... Yeonjun is a boy, and he's my friend, so..." Her response, sincere yet hilariously missing the mark, prompted a collective mental facepalm from everyone at the table—everyone, that is, except Yeonjun.

YunJin, unable to hold back any longer, giggled. "Please, Y/N, never lose your innocence," she said, her laughter infectious.

The conversation drew the attention of TXT's Hueningkai and Beomgyu, who had been engaged in their own discussion. Hueningkai, amused by the exchange, turned to Beomgyu, remarking, "How dense can you get?"

His comment, though whispered, didn't escape Yeonjun's ears. Yeonjun shot Hueningkai a glare, protective of Y/N even in the face of jest. Hueningkai, catching the look, offered an apologetic smile, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

The table erupted into laughter, the mix of misunderstandings and affections painting a vivid picture of their friendship. As the laughter subsided, conversations resumed, flowing from topic to topic, with occasional teasing jabs directed at Yeonjun and Y/N's unique relationship.

Y/N, blissfully unaware of the implications of her words, continued to engage with everyone, her cheerfulness and warmth drawing people in. Yeonjun, despite the occasional frustration, couldn't help but smile at her side, his affection for her deepening with every passing moment.

As the afternoon waned and the group began to disperse, promises of future gatherings were exchanged, each member heading back to their respective schedules. Yeonjun and Y/N lingered for a moment, their hands still intertwined, a silent testament to the inexplicable bond they shared.

"Yeonjun, today was fun, wasn't it?" Y/N asked, her gaze softening as she looked up at him.

Yeonjun's heart was a mix of hope and apprehension as he agreed with Y/N's sentiment, "Yes, it was. And you should know, Y/N, you're my favorite person in the world."

Her smile was like dawn breaking, warm and inviting. "Yeonjun, that's so sweet. You're my favorite person too!" Her laughter, light and carefree, filled the air between them.

He leaned in, a soft kiss on her forehead sealing his unspoken words, watching as she turned to leave, her steps light, her spirit untethered. Yet, as she disappeared from view, Yeonjun felt the weight of his unvoiced feelings heavier than ever.

Later, in the echo of the dance room, surrounded by the TXT members, it was Soobin who broke the silence. "Yeonjun, man, you've got to tell Y/N how you feel. It's now or never."

Yeonjun exhaled a tired laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You think I haven't tried? But every gesture, every kiss, she sees it as... just friendship. Or at least, I think so. It's like deciphering a complex code."

Beomgyu leaned in with a knowing look. "But have you tried being straightforward? Like, really laying your heart out there?"

Yeonjun shook his head, a mix of frustration and fondness in his eyes. "It feels like I've tried everything short of hiring a skywriter."

Hueningkai, ever the optimist, piped up, "Why not just say 'I love you'? Sometimes, simplicity is key."

Sighing, Yeonjun mulled over the suggestion. "Being blunt... I suppose it could work. But with Y/N, I worry it'll just bounce off her like everything else. Does she even see me as more than a friend?"

It was Taehyun who offered a new perspective, his voice calm and thoughtful. "But think about it, Yeonjun. The way you two are together—the kisses, the cuddling, holding hands. Doesn't that already say more than words could?"

The mention brought a flush to Yeonjun's cheeks, his mind replaying the recent incident where Y/N had kissed him on the lips in front of Wooyoung and Chanbin. "You're right... We do act like more than just friends. It's just... hard to admit it out loud."

Time had woven a complex tapestry of emotions and unspoken truths between Yeonjun and Y/N. Their friendship, deep and unyielding, was a source of joy and, at times, quiet longing—for Yeonjun, at least. Y/N, in her ever-buoyant and cheerful manner, seemed blissfully unaware of the romantic undercurrents that had begun to stir in Yeonjun's heart. She cherished the moments they shared, the laughter, the conversations, and the comfort of his presence, seemingly oblivious to the depth of Yeonjun's feelings for her.

On a seemingly ordinary day, Yeonjun found himself in the company of Y/N, Wooyoung, and Chanbin, navigating the aisles of a local store. Y/N had insisted they accompany her on a quest for new makeup, a task they all approached with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

As they perused the makeup aisle, Yeonjun couldn't help but admire Y/N's excitement over the colorful arrays of products, her eyes shining with each new discovery. It was in these simple moments that his feelings for her seemed to grow even more profound.

Their peaceful exploration was soon interrupted by a group of girls who recognized them as idols. The girls wasted no time, approaching with bold smiles and flirtatious greetings, clearly interested in catching the boys' attention.

"Hey, aren't you Yeonjun from TXT?" one of the girls exclaimed, her voice laced with excitement.

Wooyoung nudged Yeonjun, whispering with a smirk, "Looks like you've got some fans."

Yeonjun offered a polite, albeit strained, smile. "Yes, that's me. It's nice to meet you."

The girls giggled amongst themselves, stepping closer, their intentions clear as they began to flirt more openly. "We're huge fans! It's so amazing to see you here. Are you shopping for anything special?" another girl chimed in, her gaze lingering on Yeonjun.

Chanbin, ever the observer, leaned in towards Yeonjun, muttering under his breath, "Seems like you've caught their eye, man. How are you going to handle this?"

Yeonjun, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, was about to respond when he noticed Y/N's frustration growing. She had been searching for a particular foundation, only to find it was not in stock.

"Oh, this is just perfect," Y/N sighed loudly, her disappointment cutting through the tension. "They don't have the one foundation I came here for."

In a moment that seemed to stretch, Y/N turned, her attention solely on Yeonjun, completely oblivious to the girls vying for his attention. With a pout that could only be described as endearing, she stepped directly between Yeonjun and the flirtatious group, wrapping her arms around him in a gesture of comfort-seeking.

Yeonjun, used to Y/N's displays of affection but still momentarily taken aback by her timing, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, instinctively protective.

"Let's try another store after this," he suggested, his tone calm but firm, a silent message to the girls that his attention was solely on Y/N.

Y/N, still clinging to Yeonjun, nodded, her earlier disappointment forgotten in the warmth of his gesture. "Yeah, let's do that. I really want to try that new line everyone's been talking about."

The girls, suddenly realizing their presence was hardly acknowledged, exchanged awkward glances. One of them attempted to salvage the situation. "Um, so, Yeonjun, maybe we could get a picture with you?"

Yeonjun, ever the gentleman, was about to agree when Y/N, still clinging to him, looked up with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "A picture? Oh, are you fans? That's sweet, but we're kind of in the middle of something here."

Wooyoung, unable to contain his amusement, burst out laughing. "Y/N, always straight to the point."

Chanbin joined in, adding, "Yeah, sorry, but we're on a mission for makeup here. Maybe another time?"

The girls, now clearly feeling out of place, mumbled their apologies and goodbyes, quickly retreating.

Once they were alone again, Y/N looked up at Yeonjun with those innocent eyes of hers. "Were they bothering you? I swear, some people just don't understand personal space."

Yeonjun chuckled, the irony of her statement not lost on him. "You're one to talk about personal space," he teased, his heart still racing from their close encounter.

Y/N pouted again, this time in mock offense. "Hey! That's different. I'm your friend. Plus, you know you love my hugs."

Wooyoung, ever the instigator, piped up, "Yeah, Yeonjun, you do seem to enjoy Y/N's... personal space invasions."

Chanbin laughed, nudging Yeonjun playfully. "I think we all know Yeonjun wouldn't have it any other way."

Yeonjun's heart fluttered under Y/N's innocent grip on his arm as they left the store, his cheeks still holding a hint of pink from the earlier encounter. They made their way out, Y/N chatting animatedly about the beauty products she had managed to find, even if the foundation she wanted wasn't among them. Yeonjun could only smile at her enthusiasm, captivated by her spirit.

"Even without the foundation, today was a success, don't you think?" Y/N beamed, her eyes sparkling with contentment.

"Absolutely," Yeonjun agreed, his voice warm. "Seeing you happy makes any day a success for me."

Y/N laughed, her head tilting slightly. "You're such a sweetheart, Yeonjun. What would I do without you?"

Their conversation was filled with laughter and gentle teasing, a perfect moment of friendship—or perhaps something more, at least in Yeonjun's hopeful heart.

The following weekend brought another adventure, this time with the rest of TXT at a bustling arcade. Amidst the sounds of games and the vibrant lights, Y/N caught the attention of a guy who clearly found her attractive.

Her beauty wasn't something Yeonjun or anyone could deny, but her response to the guy's advances was unexpectedly comical.

At first, Y/N's confusion was evident. She politely apologized to the guy, mistaking his flirtatious intentions for a misunderstanding about her being an arcade employee.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't work here. Can I help you find someone who does?" she asked, her innocence on full display.

The guy, momentarily taken aback, couldn't help but laugh, finding her response endearing. "No, no, I didn't think you worked here. I just thought you were really pretty and wanted to talk to you," he explained, attempting to clarify his intentions.

From a distance, Yeonjun and the rest of TXT watched, ready to intervene if necessary but also amused by the unfolding scene. Beomgyu, in particular, couldn't contain his laughter when Y/N continued to miss the guy's cues.

"Is there a game you recommend, then?" Y/N asked, genuinely trying to be helpful, misunderstanding his intentions once again.

Beomgyu snorted with laughter, covering his mouth too late to muffle the sound, drawing curious glances from nearby arcade-goers.

Finally, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the situation, Y/N glanced around for Yeonjun, her expression a mix of confusion and a hint of distress. Spotting him, she made her way over, gripping his sleeve tightly.

"Yeonjun, this guy was asking me something, but I don't understand what he means," she said, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Yeonjun, trying to mask his amusement with a soft chuckle, turned to the guy, who looked utterly baffled by now. "She's not quite catching what you're throwing," Yeonjun explained gently. "He was trying to flirt with you, Y/N."

Y/N's eyes widened in realization, turning back to the guy. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't understand. But I should tell you, I'm not available," she said, her statement sending a wave of shock through Yeonjun and the rest of TXT.

The guy, now understanding the situation, nodded respectfully. "No worries, it was nice talking to you anyway," he said before walking away, leaving a puzzled group behind.

"What did you mean by 'not available'?" Taehyun asked, echoing the question in everyone's minds.

Y/N glanced at Yeonjun, then back at the boys, her cheeks tinting with a soft blush. "Well, I mean, I spend all my time with Yeonjun and you guys. I don't really think about dating," she explained, her voice filled with a sincerity that only added to her charm.

The boys exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief. Yeonjun, in particular, felt a complex blend of emotions. Her words hinted at a special place he held in her life, but her obliviousness to his deeper feelings remained a gentle torment.

"We told you, Yeonjun, you're her default boyfriend," Hueningkai teased, earning an elbow nudge from Yeonjun.

"Default or not, I'm just happy to be by her side," Yeonjun replied, his gaze softening as he looked at Y/N. Her presence, her innocence, and her unknowing hold over his heart—it was all bewildering yet utterly irreplaceable.

Y/N smiled, oblivious to the deeper currents running through Yeonjun's words. "Let's just enjoy the day, okay? Who's up for a game challenge?"

As they moved on to the next game, Yeonjun's thoughts lingered on Y/N's declaration of being 'not available.' In her innocence and obliviousness, she had unknowingly affirmed the special bond. The scene was set for another casual hangout with Wooyoung and Chanbin at a cozy little café, the aroma of coffee blending with the chatter of patrons. Yeonjun, amidst the warmth of friendship and laughter, decided it was time to take another shot at confessing his feelings to Y/N. He had tried so many times before, each attempt somehow gliding over her head, lost in translation. But today, he felt a renewed sense of determination. Perhaps, just perhaps, his words would finally reach her.

As they sat down, Yeonjun stole glances at Y/N, her joy infectious, lighting up the room. Taking a deep breath, he leaned closer, catching her attention.

"Y/N, you know we've been friends for so long, right?" Yeonjun started, his voice slightly shaky.

Y/N looked at him, nodding with a bright smile, "Of course, Yeonjun! You're like, my favorite person in the world!"

Encouraged by her warmth, Yeonjun continued, "Well, I've been thinking... and I realize that what I feel for you... it's more than just friendship."

Y/N's smile wavered, confusion flickering in her eyes. "More than friends? Yeonjun, I feel something more too, you're my bested friend," she replied, her innocence beaming through.

Before he could clarify, she pecked his lips quickly, a gesture of affection she saw as entirely platonic. "Be right back, just going to the restroom," she announced, leaving a stunned Yeonjun behind.

Wooyoung and Chanbin, who had been watching the exchange with bated breath, erupted into laughter. "Man, you were so direct this time, and she still missed it!" Wooyoung managed between wheezes.

Yeonjun sighed, a bittersweet smile on his face. "I thought being blunt would do it. But it's like... it's like she's in her own world."

Chanbin leaned in, trying to offer some consolation. "It's just Y/N being Y/N, you know? But dude, that was a solid confession. How she twisted it to 'bested friend' is beyond me."

Yeonjun recounted the recent arcade incident to them, sharing how a guy had tried flirting with Y/N, and her utterly oblivious response was to declare herself 'not available' without realizing the context. "I mean, what does she think 'not available' means in that sense? It's like she's only seeing what she wants to," he mused, puzzled.

Wooyoung, wiping away tears of laughter, suggested, "Have you considered writing it down for her? Like, maybe if she sees the words, it'll sink in?"

Chanbin nodded in agreement, "Or maybe it's about showing her in a way she can't misunderstand. Like, not just saying 'I like you,' but really spelling it out for her."

Yeonjun pondered their advice, the gears turning in his head. "Maybe you're right. I need to find a way that breaks through her... unique perspective."

As Y/N slid back into her seat, her eyes sparkling with the residual joy of whatever had caught her interest in the restroom, the mood at the table subtly shifted. Yeonjun, gathering his courage, decided it was now or never.

He reached out, gently taking her hand, causing a ripple of silence to cascade over their little group. "Y/N, listen. I need to explain something to you," he began, his voice laced with an earnestness that drew her full attention.

"Okay, I'm all ears," she responded, her cheerful demeanor clouding over with a hint of curiosity at the serious tone in his voice.

Yeonjun inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. "You know when people 'like' each other, right? Not just as friends, but... more than that. Like couples do?"

Y/N tilted her head, her brows knitting together in thought. "Yeah, I've heard about that. It's like in the movies, right? When people fall in love?"

"That's exactly it," Yeonjun affirmed, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "And, well, couples do things together. Things like holding hands, kissing, and cuddling."

"But Yeonjun, we do all of that already," she pointed out, genuinely puzzled, glancing between him and the other guys for some sort of clarification.

Wooyoung and Chanbin exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of disbelief and suppressed laughter, both men mentally facepalming at the situation unfolding before them.

"Yeah, but those things are meant to express feelings... feelings beyond friendship," Yeonjun pressed on, trying to keep the frustration from seeping into his voice.

Y/N's face lit up with a dawning realization, only to be immediately followed by confusion. "But doesn't doing those things make us a couple, then?" she asked, her voice laced with innocence.

Yeonjun sighed, his patience waning. "In a way, yes. But only if both people understand and agree that's what they are to each other."

Chanbin, unable to resist, chimed in with a chuckle. "And usually, they both know they're in a relationship because they talk about it and agree on it, Y/N."

Wooyoung, ever the joker, added, "Yeah, it's not like you accidentally trip and fall into being someone's girlfriend."

Y/N laughed, missing the sarcasm. "That would be silly, wouldn't it? But... I guess I never thought about it like that. We do all these couple things, huh?"

Yeonjun nodded, feeling a mixture of hope and desperation. "Exactly. And, Y/N, the thing is... my feelings for you are exactly like that. More than friends."

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a hint of understanding, a brief flicker that perhaps this time she got it. "So... you're saying you 'like' like me?"

"Yes! Exactly that!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over him.

But then, Y/N tilted her head, the confusion returning. "But we're already doing everything a couple does. So, what changes?"

Wooyoung facepalmed visibly this time. "Y/N, it's about acknowledging those feelings. Saying out loud, 'Hey, I like you more than a friend, and I want to be your boyfriend.'"

Y/N pondered for a moment, her gaze flitting between Yeonjun's hopeful eyes and the other two's amused expressions. "So... if I say I 'like' like you too, Yeonjun, we become official? Like, an actual couple?"

Yeonjun's heart leaped. "Yes, that's exactly it!"

She chewed on her lip, considering. "But I already feel happy and my heart beats really fast when I'm with you. I thought that was just what friendship feels like."

Chanbin laughed, shaking his head. "No, Y/N, that's what liking someone feels like. Your heart beating fast, feeling happy just being with them—that's more than friendship."

Wooyoung leaned forward, adding his own insight. "Think about it. Why do you think your heart beats faster with Yeonjun and not with us?"

Y/N looked at Yeonjun, her expression softening. "Is that why you've been trying to tell me all this time?"

Yeonjun nodded, his voice gentle. "Yes. Because I feel the same way. My heart races too, Y/N, every single time I'm with you."

The table fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N pondering the newfound revelation about her own feelings. Her cluelessness had masked a deeper, unexplored affection for Yeonjun, one that she was only now beginning to acknowledge.

"So," she began, hesitantly, "if we both feel this way, does that mean... we can try being...more than friends? More than best friends? Like, officially?" Y/N's voice was laced with a newfound curiosity, her eyes searching Yeonjun's for confirmation.

Yeonjun's heart felt like it was about to burst with joy. "Yes, Y/N, that's exactly what it means. We can try being a couple, see how it goes."

A smile slowly spread across Y/N's face, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I... I would like that. I mean, I already enjoy spending all my time with you. So, trying this... it feels right."

Wooyoung let out a whoop from across the table, "Finally! You two figuring it out is the best plot twist ever!"

Chanbin clapped Yeonjun on the back, "Man, I'm so happy for you guys. This has been a very long time coming."

The atmosphere at the table was electric with excitement and relief. The weight of years of unspoken feelings seemed to lift off Yeonjun's shoulders, leaving him feeling light and hopeful.

"So, what now?" Y/N asked, her voice a soft murmur, almost drowned out by the bustling cafe around them.

"Now, we go on our first official date," Yeonjun suggested, his eyes twinkling. "How about tomorrow? We could do something simple, just enjoy the day together."

"That sounds perfect," Y/N replied, her smile radiant. "It's a date then."

The afternoon at the café had been one for the memory books, with Wooyoung and Chanbin throwing out wild ideas for Yeonjun and Y/N's first official date. "How about bungee jumping? Nothing says 'I love you' like plummeting towards the earth at high speed," Wooyoung suggested with a straight face.

Chanbin nodded sagely, "Or an escape room! You can figure out if you're truly compatible by whether you get out or not."

Yeonjun chuckled, shaking his head, "I think we'll stick to the botanical gardens. It's more our speed."

Y/N agreed, her hand finding Yeonjun's under the table. "Yeah, and then we can have dinner at that café we both love. It sounds perfect."

As they left the café, Yeonjun couldn't help but feel a mix of elation and nerves. Taking Y/N's hand felt like the most natural thing in the world, yet it sent waves of excitement through him. "I can't believe we're doing this," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking her hand.

Y/N smiled up at him, "I'm really looking forward to it. It's like a new chapter for us."

Yeonjun's revelation to the rest of TXT that he'd finally shared his feelings with Y/N—and that they were reciprocated—was met with a collective sigh of relief and cheer. The journey had been long, marked by patience and a few misunderstandings, but it was worth every moment.

The weeks that followed was a whirlwind for TXT, with back-to-back dance practices in preparation for their comeback. Despite the exhaustion, Yeonjun couldn't help but look forward to seeing Y/N, who had promised to stop by after her own practice.

When she arrived, her presence was like a breath of fresh air, instantly lifting the mood in the room. She walked straight over to Yeonjun, wrapping him in a tight hug which he gladly returned. The kiss she planted on his lips was now filled with a new understanding and affection, sending his heart racing.

After practice, the fatigue from the day's efforts weighed heavily on the members of TXT, but Y/N's approach, wrapping her arms around Yeonjun once again, dispelled any remnants of tiredness.

In a moment that felt both surprising and entirely natural, Y/N whispered "I love you" to Yeonjun. It was a confession she'd never made before, yet it sounded as if it had always been meant to be said.

Yeonjun pulled back slightly, his eyes wide with surprise and joy. "You...what?"

"I said I love you. Is that wrong?" Y/N asked, her innocence shining through despite the profoundness of her admission.

"No... No, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that," Yeonjun managed to say, his voice filled with emotion. He glanced at his bandmates, who were staring in disbelief, not having expected such a confession so soon.

Y/N continued, her voice soft and earnest, "It's just...now that I finally realized what we were doing was more romantic than friendship, and back at the arcade, when I told that guy I wasn't available because of you. Then our first date turning into two dates and so on. I love you."

Yeonjun's heart felt like it could burst with happiness, the hearts in his eyes growing more than they ever had before. He lifted Y/N into his arms, pulling her into a deep, loving kiss. It was longer and more passionate than any kiss they'd shared before, a true expression of the love they now openly acknowledged for each other.

"I love you too, Y/N," Yeonjun whispered against her lips, his voice thick with emotion.

Around them, the practice room erupted into cheers and applause from TXT, who had been silently rooting for their relationship from the sidelines.

"So, when's the wedding?" Hueningkai teased, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Soobin.

"Let them enjoy the moment," Soobin said, though he couldn't hide his smile.

Yeonjun set Y/N down, keeping her close. "I guess we're really doing this, huh?" he said, a broad smile on his face.

Y/N nodded, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "Yes, we are. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

As the group started to gather their things, the conversation turned to plans for the evening, with everyone excitedly throwing out suggestions for how to celebrate the new couple's declaration of love.

"How about we all go out for dinner? My treat," Beomgyu offered, eager to celebrate his friends' newfound happiness.

"That sounds great," Y/N agreed, her smile never fading.

As they left the practice room together, the weight of the day's rehearsals forgotten, Yeonjun and Y/N walked side by side, their hands intertwined. The future was uncertain, filled with both challenges and joys, but they were ready to face it together, their love a steady beacon guiding their way.

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my1oves · 25 days

Note

Your ask box is probably so overrun rn but I had another idea!! Post-manga spoilers? I wish there was a way to like spoil asks

Laios talking to Falin and Marcille about how Yaad keep pressuring him to find a queen for the kingdom. They start making suggestions of other Kingdoms he could connect with or the orc girl (can’t remember her name) but Laios just shuts them down. Then Falin asks “what about (Y/N)? You told me you thought they were really pretty when you asked them to join the party.” And Marcille is like “[gasp] Yes!! And he always wanted to sit next to them during meals!!” So Marcille and Falin just start recounting all these romantic moments that happened between Laios and reader (like Falin’s are all pre-Marcille joining the party and Marcille’s are all post-Falin being eaten) meanwhile Laios is just sitting there with his big red face embarrassed like “I-I wasn’t that obvious, was I?”

I don’t know if it should conclude there, but like maybe Falin and Marcille try to convince him to ask reader but he’s a little hesitant to potentially ruin their friendship or maybe reader shows up and they tell him to go for it? Whatever you think is best :3 I love the idea of Falin teasing (playfully) Laios for his feelings and Marcille being obsessed with his love life (romance books go brrrr). I really like your writing and I can’t wait to read what you have coming soon 💕💕💕 but take your time and don’t over work yourself!!!

matchmaking

꒰ includes ꒱ ⸻ (dungeon meshi) laios touden.

꒰ warnings ꒱ ⸻ fem! reader (she/her pronouns), fluff.

꒰ blossom's note ꒱ ⸻ I did leave the ending a little open but with a very obvious route on what Laios is going to do. This was such a cute request! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ thank you for requesting!!

“You must put some thought behind this, Laios.” Yaad sighed, “For the kingdom, please.” And with that, Laios was left by himself, as Yaad took his leave. This was the third meeting this week to talk of potential suitors, and all of them were rejected for one reason or another. Slumping in his chair, Laios lets his gaze fall outside the window to see you in the palace gardens. He lets his gaze linger on you, a small smile finally forming.

“Laios?” Falin peeked her head in, pulling his attention away from you towards her. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Come on in,” Falin enters, Marcille following behind her. “How can I help?” Falin falters, sharing a glance with Marcille and he instantly knew where this was going. He lets out a sigh, “Did Yaad send you?”

“He thought we could offer some better insight to your potential suitors.” Marcille clarifies. Laios nods, offering them both a seat- which they both take.

“I don’t see the need for a queen,” Laios mumbles, sparing a glance back outside only to see you’re gone. He frowns, looking back towards Falin and Marcille. “The kingdom is doing fine without one, right? Yaad is overreacting.”

“Well, a queen would help solidify your position, and she could help stabilize the kingdom.” Marcille says, “I’m sure Yaad just wants what is best for you and the kingdom.” Laios knows that, but it doesn’t make this matchmaking any less annoying. Running a hand through his hair, leans against the table and gives them a sheepish look.

“Well, do you have any suggestions?”

With that, Falin and Marcille begin to exchange potential suitors. All nobility from surrounding kingdoms. They offer up descriptions of how they look and what their personalities are like (much more than what Yaad was giving him). Marcille gives powerful options, whilst Falin gives eccentric ones.

“No, not that one… Nah… I dunno…” Laios is beginning to grow bored, and it’s obvious by his general lack of listening. “Mm, maybe? No. No, not them either…” Laios’ head hits the table as he lets out a loud groan. He’s done listening. “Maybe we should just-'' But before he could redirect the conversation, Falin’s demeanor grew mischievous.

“How about (Y/n)?” The way Laios tenses up doesn’t go unnoticed by Falin and Marcille, who exchange a sneaky glance. Laios clears his throat (although choking on his own spit would be more accurate?) and tries to act nonchalant.

“(Y/n)? They’re not nobility though… Are they?”

“No, but it doesn’t have to be someone with political power, it could be anyone.” Marcille says, “In fact, at this point, I’m sure Yaad would accept a monster if you said so-”

“Really?!”

“No- Ugh, Laios, seriously?” Marcille shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Obviously (Y/n) would be better than a monster.” Laios nods. That’s probably true.

“Don’t you remember? You said you thought she was pretty, back when you first asked her to join our party.” Laios becomes bashful at that. Of course he remembers when he first met you in that tavern, smiling brightly- it was as if someone stole all the stars and put them in your eyes. He could never forget the way you laughed with your friends, nor the way he approached you so confidently and informed you he was looking for someone like you (very smooth) to join his dungeon party.

Nor did he forget how he embarrassingly pursued you for the next week, saying your skillset (he truly had no idea what skills you had at the time, but surely he needed it on his team) would be perfect for his team. You agreed, although that teasing smile told him you did enjoy the chase. That smile that would be the downfall of him.

Marcille slammed her fist into the palm of her hand, perking up with excitement. “Oh! Well now it makes sense why he was always wanting to be near her!” Marcille says, nodding. “Wow, so you had a crush on her this whole time?” Laios slinked down into his chair, wanting to hide away from the two, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“Mmhm!” Falin nodded, “Once,” She giggled, “Once Laios worked a whole ton of odd jobs in between dungeon exploration, at a whole bunch of odd hours too- just so he could afford to get her a birthday present!”

Ah, Laios remembered that too. He worked more than he slept that week, just to buy a book you had mentioned wanting. It was completely worth it, he had deemed, when he handed the book over with a boyish smile. Your eyes lit up, and you excitedly thanked him, leaning in to give his cheek a kiss.

Laios smiled at the fond memory, only to grumble in annoyance when Marcille let out a sweet squeal. “Aw! That’s so sweet!” She exclaims, “Oh, but listen to this, Falin!” Marcille says, taking Falin’s hands to grab her attention.

“When we were searching for you, Laios ended up getting pretty sick, and he refused to eat.” She paused for dramatic effect, “Unless it was by (Y/n)~” She sighs dreamily, “She spoon fed him back to health. Isn’t that so cute?”

“Laios has always had a soft spot for her.” Falin nods, “I remember we were facing a pretty big monster at the time, and Laios was all like “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,”” Falin made her voice deeper to try and mimic her older brother, “And (Y/n) was like “No, protect yourself~”” Falin’s giggles made Laios’ ears ring.

“Was… Was I that obvious?” Laios asks meekly, his whole face as red as a tomato. Marcille and Falin nod, poking some more (harmless) fun at him by continuing to recount many stories in which his affections and adoration were very, very obvious.

It isn’t until Falin is retelling how he nearly beheaded a previous member from trying to impress you with his swordsmanship skills that Marcille remembers what this meeting was originally for.

“A- Anyways! You should totally ask her! She’d make a great queen.” Marcille concludes. Laios snaps from his flustered, standing up abruptly, and with a frown.

“I can’t do that.” Laios said, “I…” He glances off to the side. If he could ask you, he would, but… “We don’t even know how she feels about this, and it could ruin our friendship and many years of trust. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that.”

It’s in moments like this that Falin and Marcille can see his more king-like side. Falin offers a reassuring smile, taking her brother's hand. “Laios, I think you should go for it.”

Laios was deep in thought, when a knock on the door interrupted him. A head peeked into the room and sure enough, it’s you. It’s you, and Laios’ palms begin to grow sweaty.

“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back-”

“No! I mean, no, no you’re fine. Please, come in.” Laios tries to relax, but he’s tense after having been told how obvious he was. Did you know? And if you did, how did you feel about it?

“We were just leaving,” Falin says, winking at her brother. Laios goes rigid. Right. This would be the perfect time to confess, should he decide to do it.

“We were? But I wanna watc-” Marcille whines as Falin ushers her out of the room. “But how are we going to know if- wah!” Falin gives you a thumbs up before closing the door. You and Laios listen in horror as both Marcille and Falin press their ears to the door.

“That was… strange.” You comment, wondering what was going on with those two. Laios gives a very forced laugh, which causes your concern to skyrocket. “Is everything okay?” You ask, reaching over and placing a hand on his. Laios looks down at your hand, his breath caught in his throat. Damn it, he was hopeless. It was either you, or a lifetime of solitude, and for the sake of his other dear ones, he should at least give it a shot.

“Actually… we have a lot to talk about.” He says, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with his. He enjoys seeing your shocked expression that melts into something more shy. “And I mean a lot.”

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful day, darling!

#dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi headcanons #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon headcanons #x reader #fluff #imagines #laios x reader #laios fluff #laios imagines

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madschiavelique · 9 months

Note

hii my love! would u mind doing a little blurb on miguel finding out the woman he has been seeing is a stripper? she just feels so embarrassed to admit that and scared It would drive him away but instead he’s pretty much more open about it and become far too protective too. thank you:))

OMG ANON YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OUR BRAINS CONNECTED because listen : i have an au in mind where my spiderpersona is a succub in a strip club, and basically when Miguel is brought there by his friends, they meet

SO YEA i'm living for stripper!reader x miguel (also this was supposed to be a blurb but i got carried away fdkzefrgd - the club scene from Closer really inspired me for this)... now i want to make a multiple chapter fic on stripper!reader x miguel hELP

summary : miguel discovers you're a stripper

content warnings : NSFW, stripper!reader, reader gives a little private show to miguel (just removes the top though, doesn't reveal the cunt), fem!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 2k song mentionned : world outside - the devlins

tag list : @fandom-ash

Up until now, you had decided to keep your professional occupation to Miguel, for one simple reason: fear.

Fear filled your stomach at the thought of telling him you were a stripper. You and Miguel had been dating for some time, and had quickly become close. The bond was shaping up to be strong, and you were worried that the information about your job would ruin everything.

He'd already asked you a few times what you were doing, but you'd always managed to deflect the subject elegantly. Yet there's no stopping Miguel's determination and curiosity, least of all when the topic of conversation turns out to be you.

So he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but couldn't resist: while you were out working, he asked Lyla where you were.

She'd given him an address, and some information about it...

"A club?" he'd asked, looking at the street information for the address. "A strip club," Lyla had corrected. "There's no mistake? Are you sure?" he'd questioned, taking a closer look at the establishment's hours and information. "Have you ever seen me calculate a lot of errors?" sighed the artificial intelligence.

Never. Hardly ever had he seen her fail in this area. Maybe you weren't really a dancer there, maybe you were a bartender, or a waitress, who knows. Only, the idea of seeing you wearing a fine outfit and swaying on a stage was strangely appealing to him.

Without missing a beat, he made his way to the address. It wasn't far, which surprised him as much as it reassured him. The very idea that your place of work wasn't far from home appealed to him, as it ensured that if you ever needed to be picked up for any reason, he'd be there.

He arrived at the entrance, breathing in, passed the bouncers who joked that with his build he could get into the business, and entered.

Blue light from two corner spotlights illuminated red velvet-covered staircases leading downwards. He moved forward, the mirrored walls reflecting him. The room's bass could already be heard from outside, but now he could hear the music more clearly.

You light up my dreams, light up my skin. You're so far away, you're holding it in.

The place was quite crowded, and Miguel noticed a fair number of men in suits and ties. He wouldn't have cared in any other context about the consumption habits of these men here, but suddenly the very idea that there were potentially regulars coming to see you displeased him enormously.

As for the place, it smelled of violets and lemongrass. The ceiling was high, revealing a second floor from which hung three chandeliers surrounded by red cubes.

Spotlights were placed here and there, illuminating the important places: the round tables, like the one next to Miguel on which two women on their knees were swaying, undressing each other under the watchful eyes of all the men around the table; the U-shaped bar, from either end of which women were dancing in wisps of sinuous white smoke; and pole-dancing pedestals on their red-lit floor that emphasized the curves of the dancers placed on them.

And he recognized one of the dancers: it was you.

It was an evening like any other, your garter belt was already generously stuffed with bills of various colors against your thigh and you'd already put on a private show. You were on the pole bar, dancing and undulating your body against it under the round, adoring eyes of your little audience.

You'd been in the business for a while now, and you'd managed to make more friends than enemies in the club, enough so that your colleagues became your buddies.

In fact, your friend right next to you softly called your name, and you turned to her as you danced.

"Did you see the one that just came in? He's huge," she pointed out, smiling at the customers around you. "And pretty good looking too."

As you continued your endless choreography, you glanced surreptitiously at the said customer. But your heart dropped into your stomach for a moment as you met Miguel's gaze.

You hesitated between freezing on the spot and running away, but instead tried to keep your cool and your professionalism and continue your dance until he arrived near the pedestal.

"This one," you pointed out to your friend, "is for me."

She gave a little laugh as you motioned for another dancer to take your place and gracefully stepped off your pedestal, advancing towards Miguel as you would a normal customer

"So this was where you were hiding?" asked Miguel a little above the music, tilting his head to the side as he looked you up and down.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, as inquisitive as you were nervous.

"Curiosity got the better of me, and I was right to give in to temptation."

He was watching your outfit, which emphasized your body, your curves highlighted by the glitter and rhinestones mixed with the laces. You were close to him, almost to the point where a simple movement on Miguel's part would allow your two bodies to meet.

"But I'd prefer to discuss this somewhere else...?" he says.

"I'm in the middle of working hours, but... how about a private show?" you offered, drawing even closer to him as your eyes seemed to him irresistible through your lashes.

He shuddered.

"I'd like that."

You smiled softly, taking his hand to guide him towards one of the Paradise Suites. You guided him a little further until you came to a door you knew well and opened it to let him in.

A round sofa circled a round table at its center, the latter illuminated in pink. A strip of light circled the sofa, another path laid out to encourage strippers to be creative and use the room as they saw fit. You weren't expecting to give Miguel a private show tonight, but fate had played a nice trick on you.

You guided him to the sofa, letting him settle there as you climbed up on the table, looking at him with eyes that were usually calculated to convey desire, but this time really felt it.

And he looked at you with, his were dark, pools of ink attentive to your every move.

"How long have you been doing this?" he'd ask, his attention unwavering.

"Five months," you toyed lightly with one of your shoulder straps as you let your other hand roam your body.

He was going to be able to ask you all the questions that came to mind, only if he didn't get too distracted by your beauty.

"Are you allowed to flirt?" he asked.

"Yes, I am." you replied, letting your hand slide down your chest.

"Do you have any regulars?" he leaned forward, his head tilted back to watch you dance.

"Yes, I do. Private clients as well." you turned, your back to him to loosen your corset behind your waist, undulating your body.

The idea that you had regular clients here wasn't disturbing, but the fact that you had private ones displeased him a little more, for the fact that your security was much less framed than it was here.

"I want names."

You let out a small laugh as you turned to face him again.

"You want to make me lose my job?" you knelt on the round table to get to his level.

"No, I want to replace them." he said, his eyes moving from yours to your fingers removing the first strap.

"I'm not allowed to have relationships outside of the club with clients," you countered, tracing the skin of your bare thigh sensually.

"And what do you usually do?" his chest puffed out as he inhaled, feeling a little hotter little by little.

"I dance, I talk, I laugh, I strip, and that is all." you confirmed as you removed the second strap, and with a simple movement unhooked the little clip between your breasts to reveal them.

His eyes were eager, watching your perfect breasts as he parted his lips, mouth agape.

"No touching?" he questioned, eyes still on your body.

"No touching, you can just slide the tips in the garter belt" you advised, your hand sliding against the latter where a few bills were lodged.

"What would happen if I touched you now?" he asked, moving a little closer to the edge of the sofa.

"I would like it," you said, shifting your legs over the front to stand up again on the table gently, "but the security cameras would notice, and probably get you out of here."

Miguel looked up, just above the table, on the ceiling, was a small half globe with a small point of red light.

"Pays well?

"Very well." you smiled, your hands playing dangerously with the string of your thong.

"How much will it cost me to be here with you?"

Miguel wasn't afraid of going broke here, especially for you, he was plenty rich enough for that.

"Depends on what you want." thinking that maybe Miguel didn't want to make you work right now, you got off the table and climbed onto the sofa and then its edge instead, sitting there.

"How high are the prices? I haven't seen the menu of services."

"Our VIP options can go up to 1500 dollars." you say wearily, pretending to walk your index and middle fingers in his direction on the strip of light.

"1500?" he almost exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"Mhm," you hummed, "two hours with two dancers and a bottle of Don Perignon."

He turned towards you, coming closer, his head level with your thigh as his eyes inevitably fell on the bills you'd been given.

"And what's the price if I only want you and nothing else with me?" he questioned as his gaze returned to yours.

"Here, from 80 dollars I can give you a 10-minute air dance." you said as you leaned towards him, your faces close but not yet touching. "Outside, nothing."

A small, proud smile appeared on his lips. However, you being far too hot and gorgeous, he was beginning to feel tight in his clothes, especially his pants.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, sitting up differently, your eyes falling on his crotch and smiling as you bit your lip.

"Five o'clock. Will you last until then?"

He sighed, his eyes falling on your lips, eager.

"I just don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands to myself."

You smiled, then straightened up, reaching for your top. But Miguel took his wallet out of his pocket and slipped a bill under your garter belt. To be deprived of a view like this? Never. You smile a little more, and sit back down on the table, kneeling upright to let him get a good look at you.

He leaned towards you again, intertwining his fingers as his gaze softened slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, biting your cheek as you looked down at your hands carefully placed in your lap.

"I was scared," you admitted with a sigh. "Scared that this would end what we have."

You knew that not all men or simply partners were comfortable with their halves being strippers, and the idea that Miguel shared that opinion terrified you.

"Nena," he called your nickname.

Your head was still down, and you felt the soft sensation of money paper under your chin. Miguel straightened your jaw with a bill, bringing his eyes to yours.

"This isn't a problem to me." he smiled, lowering his hand to place the bill under the elastic of your belt. "This is actually really good."

Confusion seized you along with relief, causing you to frown while sporting a grin.

"Why?"

He tilted his head to one side, smiling proudly.

"I get the satisfaction for everyone to see how gorgeous you are, while being the only one who has the right to touch you."

You let out a small burst of voice somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, the relief of his answer washing over you like a wave of comfort.

After that, he'd deserved more than just a show.

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