#assuming I did it correctly anyway lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haetrack · 7 months

Text

The Devil Says Hi - (LHC)

haechan x succubus!reader

wc: 8.4k (…😭)

genre: smut (minors do NOT interact!), little comedy, horror and angst

authors note: happy (early) halloween! as a little gift, i’ll be posting this early because i finished this faster than expected! i hope you guys enjoy and please leave feedback if you did!

general warnings: afab reader, religious themes (in the sense that heaven and hell exist), scratches and scars mentioned, summoning of a demon, open ending, in no way does this represent haechan

smut warnings under the read more tab!

warnings: unprotected sex, sub!haechan, dom!reader, oral sex (both receiving), handjob, humiliation and degradation, mentions of masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, desperate and pathetic haechan, crying, cum eating, in general perverse themes (LOL)

To be fair, this wasn’t entirely his fault.

It’s finally near Halloween, and Haechan has some members over at his apartment just to hang out. Doyoung had promised to cook a meal for Haechan, and Johnny and Mark, being the people they are, forced themselves into this promise. Haechan didn’t really have an objection to them coming over, as schedules have been hard and they all needed a day off.

With the weather becoming cooler, Doyoung cooked a warm stew (Haechan’s favorite) for everyone to eat. Small conversations flowed throughout the meal, how Johnny was too immersed in his role again, how Doyoung bought a turtle plushie for Mark that Mark didn’t even want. They laugh at Haechan for his need to be taken care of in every sense. Haechan grows embarrassed, swatting them away while shoving a spoonful of broth into his mouth.

“Speaking of, ‘being taken care of,’ I was talking to Ten the other day.” Mark starts, and everyone groans at his sentence. Knowing how gullible Mark can be, Doyoung encourages him to continue while fighting back giggles.

“Ten was telling me about this, like, chant, I guess?” Mark continues, “It’s like one of those, like, creepy stories kinda.”

“Like Bloody Mary?” Johnny questions.

“Dude… you literally read my mind…” Mark reaches his hand out to Johnny, and Johnny proudly high fives him.

Haechan and Doyoung stare at the both of them, with Haechan glaring at Mark so he can hurry and finish his story.

Mark clears his throat, “Anyways, Ten said this chant thing would summon a demon.” A silence follows. “Specifically, a sex demon.” He finishes with a proud smile on his face and his pointer finger up.

No one says anything for thirty seconds.

“Who invited this guy?” Johnny laughs.

“If I remember correctly, you both invited yourselves.” Haechan deadpans.

Mark groans and slurps on his stew loudly. Haechan sarcastically comforts him, telling him to be quiet for five minutes so he can become funny again. Doyoung and Johnny laugh at their antics before Doyoung gasps out loud to announce the idea that just popped into his head.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors and let the loser do the chant!” Doyoung laughs at himself for such a good idea, and Mark’s nodding along to his line of thought.

“Then let’s record, too, for our fans. Like a mini vlog!” Everyone stares at Mark and his suggestion.

“What did I say about being quiet for five minutes…” Haechan comforts him again, patting his shoulder while Mark plants his head on the table.

“I say we just let Haechan do it,” Johnny grins, “he seems like he’d like it the most out of all of us.” Everyone but Haechan somehow mutually agree on this, and Haechan takes offense because what kind of freak do they take him for? He may like… some certain, specific things in bed but do they assume he would go that far?

Mark chimes up again, “I’ll send him the words he needs to say!”

“Don’t you dare send me that. I will literally throw your phone out the window!” Haechan immediately reaches for Mark’s phone and Mark deflects all of Haechan’s moves. While this is happening, Doyoung texts Ten to send him the lyrics (?) for the chant Haechan needs to do. Johnny stares over Doyoung’s shoulder and smirks, waiting to see a text back from Ten.

Ten responds with an of course! because he’s Ten, he wouldn’t need an explanation for something like this. Doyoung copies the words and sends them to Haechan’s phone, all while Johnny’s snickering over his shoulder. Haechan hears his phone ding and immediately starts whining, knowing exactly what was just sent to his phone.

“Go ahead and do that for us once we leave.” Johnny smiles, and Doyoung laughs as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Once Mark finally catches up on what’s happening, he also ends up laughing and high fives the both of them. Haechan makes a face at the three of them, making a show of pushing his tongue into his cheek and smirking.

“I’ll only do it because I know shit like this is usually fake,” Haechan grumbles, which makes everyone laugh at him more.

Haechan wouldn’t exactly mind a demon to help him get off.

Everything finally settles. Conversation slows down, food gets finished, dishes get put away, and a movie gets put on. Doyoung dozes off a little while Mark keeps bothering Johnny with questions about the movie. Haechan is thinking to himself about the earlier conversation. So what if he’d call a sex demon?

His members' assumptions have no reflection on his true character. Yes, he may be a clingy man with a lot of needs, but that doesn’t mean he would call a whole demon to his home. He doesn’t actively talk about his sex life in front of his members, not that there really is one due to his lack of time. So maybe they’re just worried about their youngest member not being able to let off steam.

During the end of the movie, Haechan is debating between the pros and cons of potentially inviting a demon to his apartment to… fuck. Con: there would quite literally be a demon in his house. Pro: he can finally end his dry spell! This would give him an opportunity to finally step away from pathetically getting himself off to his favorite porn videos.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he has favorite porn videos. With how busy of a person he is, not to mention famous, he can’t just go out and find someone to have sex with. Especially now that he has his own apartment, he can do whatever he wants without the worry of being caught by another person. To say that he isn’t a little desperate to have something around him other than his hand isn’t a lie.

He sighs to himself, looking up and seeing that the movie had just ended. He looks around and finds Johnny getting up and stretching while Mark is gently waking up Doyoung. Haechan himself yawns and stretches while sitting down.

“I think we’re gonna head out already,” Mark says, sleepy. Haechan nods along to his words and walks them to the door.

“Don’t forget to call your lover from Hell tonight,” Johnny singsongs, which Haechan ends up just shoving him out the door.

Haechan will do what he wants. Which may or may not include inviting a demon over to have sex.

Haechan decides that maybe he does want to summon a demon.

He tries to convince himself that he’s only trying to summon a demon because he’s curious. It doesn’t have to only be for sex, maybe you guys can just talk? Can a human ask a demon how their life has been since they’ve been in Hell? Or is that inappropriate? How inappropriate of a question can that be if they’re a literal demon?

Haechan decides to see if he can research any of this.

He copies and pastes the words (?) that were sent to him into Google to see if anything comes up. To his surprise, only a few articles and ugh, Reddit posts show up. The articles that show up are about other sex demons (which he now learns are called succubi and incubi), and only briefly mention the words that were given to him. He groans when he realizes that the Reddit posts might actually be of help to him.

To his disappointment, the first Reddit article that he clicks on genuinely does help him. It confirms that whoever he’s summoning is a succubus. You are one of the lesser known succubi, but apparently one of the more powerful ones. You have no preference in who you choose to be with, but everyone who tries to summon you should be warned.

Haechan reads this and thinks for a little bit. Would he really try to sacrifice his life in order to sleep with a pretty demon? Maybe. Plus, the post doesn’t even say if his life would be in danger if he were to summon you. Just a be warned. Maybe all he’ll get from this is some good sex and the best sleep of his life.

He decides to ponder on it a bit more.

He gets ready to go to bed. He does his small nighttime routine. He makes sure his door is locked and that everything in his apartment is turned off. He washes up and changes into his pajamas, which consist of a simple shirt and shorts. He stares at himself in the mirror, realizing that he could summon you right now if he wanted to. He instead walks out of his restroom and goes to lay down.

He scrolls on Instagram for a little bit with nothing really in mind. Although he’s trying to focus on this cover of a song he likes, his mind can’t stop wandering. All his thoughts are leading back to you. What you might look like, how you might talk, how you might feel around him. He feels a familiar feeling set at the bottom of his stomach.

With his mind running on impulse to just fuck and breed, he decides to get up and go back to his restroom. He stands in front of the mirror, memorizes the last of the words, and turns off the light. For good measure, he doesn’t lock the door in case he needs to run out. He turns his phone off and faces himself once again. He opens his mouth and begins reciting.

After he’s finished, he feels like his whole apartment feels quieter than usual. The air in the room feels colder, but his face feels hotter. He stands there for two minutes, waiting for you to crawl out his mirror and immediately start fucking him. Unfortunately, none of that happens and now he’s embarrassed, standing in his restroom half hard.

Before he goes to leave the restroom, a chill passes through him. He brushes it off, assuming that it’s all just a coincidence.

You feel it. You feel so alive. Someone has summoned you.

It’s been awhile. You’re aware that out of most of your fellow succubi, you’re one of the least called ones. You don’t really mind though, you know that you’re the best at your job. Everyone that you get with begs to be with you forever, and you lead them on, letting them sit in the guilt of knowing they landed themselves in Hell. No energy or pleasure you get from sex compares to the look of guilt sitting on someone's pretty face.

When you had first heard this man summoning you, you could feel he was desperate. You could feel yourself tingle in delight at the thought of ruining this person's life. You watch him through your dimension looking embarrassed assuming that the spell didn’t work. How wrong he was.

You waited until he left the room. You waited hours more to make sure he was sleeping. Playing the long game was important to you. His desperation filled you with excitement. How cuter can a human be? Would he beg for you, cry your name out, keep going until he knows you’re satisfied? Will he be willing to risk his life just at the possibility of being able to fuck you?

You decide it’s time. You open a portal to his world through his mirror. You slip through it and stand tall. You peek through the door to see him peacefully sleeping, not knowing that there’s an evil spirit looming around the corner. You step in, already feeling small waves of energy hitting you. He’s hard in his sleep. You want to laugh at how pathetic this man seems, and you’ve seen some pathetic men before.

You stand in the corner of the room, wondering exactly how to wake him up. You decide on giving him a small scare. You go through your plan one more time in your head before you start.

You start off with small taps on his bedroom door. You see him stir in his sleep. You tap harder and harder. He wakes up slowly, groaning before sitting up. You make yourself invisible, out of his sight. Before even checking his room to see what was producing the sounds, he looks down into his lap and sighs. He rubs a hand over the obvious tent in his shorts and squeezes.

He gets up and looks around. You tap on his door one last time, harder and louder than the rest. He snaps his head towards the door and stands there. After a few heavy breaths, he makes his way to the door. Sure that you’re out of sight, you make your way to his bed and lay down on it. You watch as he braces himself before opening his door, looking around to see if anyone was there.

He checks a little longer before accepting that no one’s there and closes the door. He turns around and sees you, laying right on top of the bed he was just sleeping in.

In shock, he falls back onto the door and scrambles on the floor. “How did you- what- who are you?” he sputters out.

“I know you already know what I am. And think a little harder, baby, you know what my name is.”

As if Haechan has known for all his life, your name flashes through his head. He lets it consume him, he can taste your name on his tongue. Your name repeats in his head like a mantra, and he whispers it out to you. You smile at him, “That’s correct.”

“Now tell me, what exactly should I call you?”

He looks at you dazed, his body language shows he’s still nervous, but he responds with, “Haechan.”

“Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. That’s what everyone calls you, hm? Tell me the name that only I can call you.” You’re trying to see how easy it is to get him to trust you, to fall under your spell. As soon as the name “Lee Donghyuck” falls from his lips, you know he’ll be willing to let go of his entire life for you.

To make this more fun, you decide to move where he’s sat on the floor. You crawl over to him slowly, trying to build anticipation. The closer you get to him, the more energy you can feel radiating off of him. Poor Donghyuck, still so horny after being almost scared to death.

He shudders when he feels your breath on his neck, lips placed centimeters away from his skin. He whines out, nonverbally begging you to touch him. “How are you still so hard after having someone like me in your home? How desperate are you for this?”

He arches his upper body to try to get at least one part of his body touching you, apparently too embarrassed to admit that you’re right. He wasn’t expecting you to look so… humanly? You look like any normal person in a Halloween costume. A short, pretty dress adorns your body and horns sit atop of your head. You see he’s more focused on your body than your question, so you grab his chin in order to get him to look at you, “Answer my questions and I’ll give you everything that you want.”

He takes note of your gold, glowing eyes. “I- I want this. I want this so bad.”

You grin at how easy it was for him to get out of his shell in order to get some pussy, and you decide to tease him on it. “My baby’s so desperate to get his dick wet. Can’t wait to make you my little bitch,” you say before pulling him into a heavy kiss. He tries to keep up with you, moaning into your mouth once you place yourself in his lap.

Once he feels how warm you are on top of him, he breaks away from the kiss in order to wantonly moan out. You direct your kisses to his jaw down to his neck, messily leaving marks where you please. He’s well aware that the one thing he shouldn’t do during all of this is let you leave marks where any one of his fans could see. Something inside of him tells him it’s okay, he’s yours, you’re allowed to do this to him.

You go to take off his shirt when his hands grab your wrists, his eyes looking at yours with uncertainty. You put on a gentle face, “Let me see all of my baby, I’ll make sure to ruin every single inch of your body.” He subconsciously ruts his hips up to yours, and you can feel how hard he is. He’s a good size, and the thought of him filling you up nicely urges you to continue.

His hands shoot to your waist, but you rip them from your sides and force them on both sides of his body. You take off his shirt and you marvel at the sight of him. You can tell he’s feeling embarrassed, but his dick twitching beneath you begs you to praise him. “What a pretty body for such a pretty guy, you’re everything I could’ve ever asked for in a human.” He lurches in to continue kissing you, and you happily reciprocate his desperate actions.

While kissing him, you begin to explore his chest with your hands. You run your nails along every section, feeling his skin jump underneath your touch. You bring your hands up to his chest and pinch his nipples. His whole body jumps at your ministrations and he whimpers loudly. You feel your body go hot, a reaction like this never failing to amaze you.

You continue your attack on his nipples, and you begin to slowly grind on him. Slow enough to tease him and give him a taste of what's to come. Apparently, this deems too much for Donghyuck all at once and he cries out, “Please stop, I’m about to cum!”

This only spurs you on more, “Can my baby cum just like this? With just some touches and dry humping? Gonna show me how much of a depraved loser you are?”

He just lets whimpers out, hands gripping onto his shorts to ground him. “I’m gonna cum, please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad- please!”

You remove yourself completely from him, choosing to sit back on your heels to watch his already fucked out form. There’s tears in his eyes, his face and ears are flushed, and drool slips from his lips. Your eyes move down to his lap to see a wet spot in front of his shorts that you know did not come from you. There’s a thin layer of sweat across his face that makes him glow in the darkness of his room.

He looks up at you bleakley, and you smile sweetly at him. “You didn’t think I would let you cum that easy, right?” You laugh and he just squirms around in his spot.

“Why don’t we move to your bed already? I promise I’ll treat you a lot better.”

You suppress your giggles when you see him walk over with his hands clasped over his bulge as if you weren’t just sitting on it. You lay back against his headboard, and beckon him to sit in between your legs. He sits with his back against you just a little too easily for a demon that he just summoned. He can feel your chest press behind him, which causes warmth to spread throughout his body once again.

You murmur against his shoulder, “My Donghyuck, why don’t you tell me what you need…” He hangs his head down low and whines. You can tell from the kind of person he is that he wouldn’t mind begging, so why isn’t he doing it now? “Do you really think you can be such a brat to someone like me? Hurry up and spit out what you want before I leave you here alone.”

He grips your thigh and looks back at you. You let his touch slide, curious as to what he’ll do next. “It’s not that! I just… I don’t want to disappoint you with how fast I might cum…” he trails off at the end, clearly ashamed of how his body feels right now.

“My easy baby, the angels made you just for me… we have all night for me to take care of you… just wait.” You face him front again and you place a tender kiss on his shoulder.

“I’m not easy! I usually don’t cum fast but when I-” a gasp cuts him off as you take his hand on your thigh and trail it to his bulge. You start by making him palm himself over his shorts, whispering in his ear how big he feels and how bad you want him. You encourage him to continue while taking your hand away from his, bringing it back up to his chest. He tries to move his body away, but you force him back into place.

You slowly trail your fingers across his nipples just to get him sensitive once more, and he feeds into it. You see his hand move faster against himself, moving up and down and squeezing at the tip. How can someone feel this needy to the point where touching himself over his shorts was enough to get off?

You can tell he starts getting impatient, his usual habits from his own masturbation sessions begin to take over. You can see his eyes shut and his face scrunches, his hand moves down to squeeze his balls to try to slow himself down. He lets out a drawn out moan and you whisper in his ear to slow down. You can tell he heard you by the shake of his head, but he continues to get himself off when you’re right behind him.

“I thought you brought me here to help you get off, but you’re doing all the work?” He nods again, his arm working harder to bring himself to an orgasm. You’re honestly surprised, nothing like this has happened to you in all of your years. He throws his head back onto your shoulders and brings a hand up to one of his nipples. What an interesting human. His loud moans and whimpers are sent straight to your ears and you need to quickly shut him up.

You bring a hand up to his bottom lip to trace it. You whisper a suck into his ear and stick two fingers in his mouth. He responds immediately, mouth sucking and tongue licking the entirety of your fingers. You inwardly moan at the sight of him sprawled out over you, a sweaty mess of a man giving himself the utmost pleasure. You can feel him get closer to his orgasm, energy radiating off of him to the point where you can feel it seep into your skin. An idea crosses your mind.

Right on the brink of his orgasm, you whisper once more in his ear. “You’ll stop for me won’t you? You’ll wait for me to cum, too?”

He can feel you smiling, teasing him for long forgetting about you. He knows how pathetic he looks right now, getting himself off when there’s a literal sex demon behind him, but he can’t help it. A small part of him likes how he gets treated when he’s like this, getting made fun of for being so depraved. In normal circumstances, he’d let himself cum and move on. But tonight, you’re right there, your pretty voice telling him to wait.

Going against what he really wants, he chooses to follow you instead. He gives himself one last stroke before tearing his hands away from himself. He’s whining for you to help him, to let him get what he wants. There’s tears pricking his eyes you can tell he’s dangerously close to crying. You coo at him, shushing him and telling him it’s okay. You sit up some more and bring his face to yours, kissing him and taking all that you want from him.

“Are you ready to help me out, baby?” and he looks at you with an almost shocked expression. You raise an eyebrow at him, and sensing he might’ve done something wrong, he tries to explain himself. “It’s just… I have gotten off yet and… maybe you can help me first?” You outwardly laugh at him, which makes him cower and grow embarrassed once again.

“This whole time it’s been about you,” you giggle, “and you still want me to help you!?” Never have you seen someone as desperate as Donghyuck. You’ve brought him so close to cumming twice already, and he thinks that he should still get even more. Someone never taught him that good actions get him rewards. Through his embarrassment, you see him grow frustrated. This is where things start to get fun.

“Well I summoned you here in the first place,” he argues, “so you should be the one listening to me!”

You tut at him, “I didn’t know my sweet boy could be so bratty. What would you do if I said I didn’t want to touch you anymore?” You challenge him, trying to see how hard you can push his buttons.

“I’ll just get myself off!” He immediately gets to work. His hand goes back down to his dick with rapid strokes. You can see he’s already worked up from before, breathy moans escape his mouth when he teases his tip.

You sit and watch with enjoyment. As much as he’s trying to show that he doesn’t need you, you can tell that he’s growing frustrated. Frustrated that it doesn’t feel as good as you, frustrated that you won’t sit on his dick already, frustrated that he’s been on edge for so long. He opens his eyes to see you watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to break. What really gets to him though is how he can see that you’re squeezing your thighs together, your breath growing heavy.

He whines your name out, and you’re ready to jump in. “You ready? I’ve been waiting for my Donghyuck to help me out.” You slip off your dress and lay back onto his bed. You spread your legs, showing him just how wet you’ve gotten from watching him. It’s like he immediately forgets what he was just doing and reaches for you. You smile at him, “You know what you did wrong. If you want to help me, you’ll sit right there until I tell you to.”

He’s about to complain before he sees you spread yourself apart on full display for him. He sits back on his knees with his hands on his thighs. You bring your fingers to where you’re most sensitive, ready to put on a show for Donghyuck. Even if you pretend that you didn’t want Donghyuck doing this for you, you would much rather have him in between your thighs doing all the work. You moan at the sight of him staring a hole into you, his hands gripped tightly on his thighs.

You taunt him, “I wonder how much you’d be able to help me out. When was the last time you’ve eaten pussy? Are you even good?”

You see his dick twitch at your harsh words and he forces his hands to stay put. He’s gasping for air, somehow already seeming fucked out. Despite his struggle for breath, he manages out, “Please let me help you… I’ll do everything you want me to…”

Grinning at his words, you respond, “Anything? Then come here.” Before he can properly react, you reach up and grab him by the hair. He lets out a high-pitched moan that satisfies every inch of your being. You place him right in front of where you need him most. He grabs both of your thighs in his hands and looks up at you with a dazed look in his eye, licking a strip from bottom to top.

He focuses on your clit, trying to gauge what makes you feel best. Once he finds a good rhythm, he burns it into his memory. He’s so messy, so desperate to get you off so he can get off. He brings a finger up to your entrance, looking up at you so he can get the go ahead. You pat his head, and he slides his finger into you. It’s tight, warm, and everything Donghyuck could’ve wished for. Thinking about how he’ll get to be in you spurs him on to be as good as he can for you.

“Tell me how good I’m doing… tell me how good I make you feel…” he says as best as he can with a mouth full of pussy.

“Making me feel so good,” you gasp when his finger finds that sweet spot inside of you, “I want to keep my good boy all to myself.” He whimpers at your words, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. You remove your hands from his hair and bring them up to your chest to fondle and toy with them. As much as Donghyuck wants to complain from the lost pressure, he looks up and finds something better.

Better than any porn he’s watched, better than any pornstar he’s ever seen, there you are, pleasuring yourself because of how good he’s making you feel. He has to take a few seconds away from you in order to gasp, unknowingly starting to grind against his bed. You manage to open your eyes to look down at him, his cheeks red from your thighs rubbing against them. His hair is disheveled from how hard you were gripping it. He feels like he’s been rewarded with a beautiful being laid right across his bed, waiting for him to continue.

He plunges one more finger into you, curling them inside you in order to prod against that spot. His tongue does small circles around your clit in order to get you to cum, and he feels like he’s getting you there. All that he can hear in his room are your breathy gasps and moans accompanied by his own moans and the sounds of eating you out. He feels as though he can cry right between your thighs, nothing in his life seeming better than being here right now.

You can feel pleasure radiating off of him. You quickly find the source: his hips desperately humping against his bed. You’re not quite sure if he’s aware of it or not, but you assume that he isn't if both hands are on you. Either way, the sight of him still seeking out pleasure spurs you on, bringing you right to the edge of your orgasm.

“Is my baby g-gonna make me cum? Is he giving me everything I need?” You let your hands fall back to his hair, pushing him as close as you can get him. He’s moaning into your core, fingers twitching inside of you as he tries to control his own thoughts. His thoughts are so loud you can hear them, begging for you to finish so he can hurry and fill you up.

You do just that. With one last suckle on to your clit, you arch up into the pleasure and cry his name out. He helps you ride out your orgasm, removing his fingers from you and lapping at your entrance. You sit up and look down at him, slightly pushing his head away before he can overstimulate you. He’s about to bring his fingers up to his mouth to clean them off, but you grab his wrist and shove them into your mouth.

How he would give everything up in order to feel your mouth on him. Your tongue separates his pointer and middle finger apart, and he can feel himself drooling a little. You take a peek at him, and his eyes are glazed over. Another time, you suppose. You take his fingers out of his mouth with a pop! and wait for him to respond. He's openly staring at his fingers, and you have to snap him out of his daze.

“Donghyuck, are you ready for your reward?” He nods frantically, his body feeling like it could explode at any minute. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Unlike before, he answers immediately with a whiny tone, “I need- no, I want you. I want you so bad that it’s physically hurting me.” He groans and you giggle at him. He’s been edged two (three if you count him being bratty) times, so he has to be willing to do anything with you. You decide to ask him the big question.

“Will you top?” He whips his head towards you with a shocked look. He has huh!? written all over his face. He was half expecting you to just pin him down to the bed and start riding him until he cries, but you ask him to do the impossible.

In normal circumstances, Donghyuck would happily agree and do all the work. He doesn’t mind being a service top every once in a while. But here… he knows as soon as he enters you, he might immediately cum on the spot. Knowing that he’ll feel your velvety walls around him while having to be the one that’s moving… he’s scared. But there’s an evil voice inside of him telling him how good it would feel to hear your voice telling him how pathetic he is.

You can hear his internal dialogue just by looking at his face. He tells you a small yes and you grin. You pull him into a kiss where you let him decide the pace. You want to get him confident in his moves, just so you can break it all down again. He pulls you onto his lap and holds the back of your upper thighs. Seemingly feeling good with familiar territory, he moves you in order to get you to grind slowly on his thigh. You appreciate the effort and let a small moan escape your mouth.

He takes this as a sign for him to move on. He slides you off of him and onto your back. He takes a moment to look at you laid across his bed, and if you were a real person, he thinks he would’ve fallen in love with you on the spot. You look so sweet despite the way you’ve been treating him, and all he wants to do is take care of you. He’s taken out of his sudden love-trance by his twitching dick telling him he’s been on edge for too long. He takes a deep breath before moving on top of you.

“I’m ready for my baby to fill me up,” and you reach out to him to stroke his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch as if this is something you both always do. He remembers reading in a Reddit post about unprotected demon sex (which at the time he didn’t take seriously) saying that there should be no worries of pregnancy because of spiritual differences.

This will be the first time he’s ever gone in raw with someone. He’s nervous, but knowing that you have more experience than he does calms him down.

You reach up at him to plant a soft kiss to his lips, and he looks at you with determined eyes. He aligns himself up with you, and slowly pushes himself in.

He’s never felt like this before. The only way he can describe this feeling is like Heaven. Once his tip is in, he has to stop and take some breaths. His head falls to your shoulder and you try your best not to laugh. You moan softly into his ear and beg him to continue. He stutters out a wait as he still tries to get used to the feeling. He feels like his nerves are on fire. No matter how many times he’s cum with his own hand, nothing could’ve ever prepared him for this. He clenches his teeth and pushes in a little further.

He already feels like he can cum just like this, halfway in you. You watch him in his currently fucked out state, and you try to be patient, you really do, but he’s taking way too long. You bring your legs to rest atop of his back and push him forward, effectively pushing him all the way inside. This was unexpected for him, and with a loud moan, it’s taking every muscle in his body in order to stop himself from cumming too fast.

This is exactly what you wanted. He’s already shaking, his head planted on your shoulder. He’s drooling, mumbling incoherent words into your ear along the lines of so sensitive, feels so good. As much as you like seeing him like this, this isn’t just about him. So you whisper in his ear, “You better start moving, baby.” He all but whines into your ear, “C-can’t. You feel– fuck– too good. If I move, I’ll cum.”

With a sigh, you say, “That’s my job, pretty boy.” Your hands move up along his abdomen and up to his chest. Your thumbs trace each nipple before giving them a hard squeeze. His whole body suddenly jumps, his hips pushing himself deeper into you, and he cums. You feel warmth spread through you, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as you feel Donghyuck ride his orgasm out.

On his end, his eyes are tightly shut and his ears are ringing. He’s not sure how loud he’s being right now, but he knows he’s moaning. His hips move on their own, small thrusts into you that he’s unaware he’s even doing. He could die right now and still be the happiest man on Earth. Your warm walls envelop him, tightly sucking him in. He can’t help but grip harshly onto your hips, not caring how hard he does it. There’s nothing in his mind but you.

“Thank you… thank you so much…” Much to your dismay, he’s slowing down and you can feel him begin to soften in you. He couldn’t possibly think this could be over as soon as he’s cum and you haven’t. You grab him by the shoulders and force him to hold himself up once more. He’s still in his post-orgasm state, eyes dazed over and lips swollen.

You smile sweetly at him and you lightly slap his cheek to get his attention, “We aren’t done until I say we are.” He looks at you confusedly before feeling you tug again on his nipples. His hips jut forward into you, and he lets out a loud whimper. “Just give me a s-second, please!” You shake your head no and continue your attack on his chest. His hips keep moving on their own and you feel it, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure radiating off of him.

“You like how much it hurts? You like showing me how much of a pain slut you are?” All he can do is nod at your words as he pounds into you, the stinging pain of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes, his arms are shaking trying to hold himself up. You’re so perfect, no matter the harsh words that fall from your mouth or the grip your pussy has on him, all he wants to do is please you.

He doesn’t know how long he can last.

You feel his tip hitting deep inside of you, the pleasure building up quickly inside of you. He continues to ram into you despite how sensitive he feels, either from wanting to be good for you or to make up for all the times he couldn’t have sex. You can feel yourself becoming undone, that spot inside of you being hit perfectly and your clit being rubbed messily by his thumb. Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches and one symbol.

You’re about to cum when suddenly, he pulls out of you and cums on your thighs. His mouth is open, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed. Feelings of frustration bubble at the back of your throat but before you decide on anything, “Clean me.”

He shakes himself from his daze to look up at you, cheeks pink while a small what escapes his heart-shaped lips. “You heard me. Clean up the mess you made.” He stares down at your cum-ridden thighs and lets out a small whimper. Humiliation. Degradation. To have himself wrapped around your finger, made to do whatever you asked of him.

He scooches himself down to your thighs and stares. This was his mark on you. He feels his body heat up, and despite having cum two times, he can feel himself staying hard. This is what he likes most. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and he sees you smirking, clearly satisfied with how he can move past his own embarrassment to please you.

He darts his tongue out and licks. It’s not a horrible feeling, just… different. He can’t lie and say he hasn’t tasted his own cum after jerking off. But to have you here, laying on his bed while licking up your thighs, it’s something he would do over and over again if it meant keeping you here.

Once he’s done, you make sure he’s swallowed everything. You laugh at him for being such a pervert and you can see the effect your words have on him. He’s still hard. You can’t believe a person like him can exist, and you want to keep him forever to yourself. “Now that you’ve had your fun, I think it’s my turn now.”

With all the strength from the energy you’ve gained from his orgasms, you push him down onto his bed and straddle him. He doesn’t even look shocked anymore, willingly letting you do whatever you please. You line up his dick to your entrance and slide down. You can feel him a lot better when you’re on top, how perfectly he fits inside of you. You look down at him, his chest arched up and face scrunched up, “My perfect baby, made just to be my little sex toy.”

You start slow. This is all about you now. You grind yourself slowly onto him, feeling your clit rub deliciously on his pelvis. His hands are gripped onto the sheets, and you decide it’s finally time that he gets to touch you properly. You bring his hands up to your chest and his eyes shoot open. He looks at your boobs, and squeezes. In pure ecstasy, his hips push up into you on their own. What a simple man.

With added stimulation to your nipples, you begin to start riding him. You almost pull out of him with just the tip inside before you slam back down. He moves his body in order to try to help you but you stop him. Instead of letting his hands rest on your boobs, you grab them by the wrist and pin them above his head. “I don’t need your help. All you were supposed to do was lay here and be my little toy, but you couldn’t even do that.”

He looks up to you with begging eyes. Instead of asking for forgiveness, his eyes beg you to punish him. You can only smile. You restart with a harsh pace to where only the sound of sex echoes in the room. Loud, incessant whines from Donghyuck fill the room, and the sounds of him only make you want to work harder.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you into Hell, let me fuck you so hard that you’ll land a spot right next to me?” He’s shaking his head no, but he’s stuttering out yes. He tells you how bad he wants to be yours, how good you feel. You see tears begin to slip out of his eyes which causes your own hips to move faster. You bend down to reach his face, your tongue slipping out and licking up his tears, “My baby tastes so good.”

At the feeling of your warm tongue on his face, he grips onto your horns and you groan. He can feel how wet you are, your slick and his cum from before slipping out of you and making a mess on him. He loves how this feels, being treated like gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. The messiness of it all, how mean you are, how much you seem like you couldn’t care less. It only brings him closer to cumming.

“You’re mine, you know that? You were made for me and only for me.” He moans out a yes, only yours, want to be yours and you just fuck him harder. He’s hitting that spot inside of you with such precision to where you consider keeping him forever.

“Let me stay with you,” he’s crying again, “I want to be with you forever.” You smile at him, trying to seem like you’re debating on saying yes. You don’t plan on answering him, waiting to see how he might fall apart without you. “Please let me be with you, come live with me and I’ll let you use me whenever.” The thought of using him almost makes a yes spill out of your lips, and that scares you. When have you ever thought of being with a human?

You push this thought at the back of your mind and focus on the now. Donghyuck splayed under you, cursing and moaning how he never wants this to end, tears slipping out and hips jutting in you. He brings his hands up to your boobs again, groping and squeezing around them. “L-let’s cum together, wanna cum with you.”

How can you deny him when he asks so sweetly? “Whatever my baby wants, he can get.”

Hearing the sweet nickname, he fills you up and whimpers out an I love you.

He decides this time that he’ll focus on you, bringing his hand to your clit and rubbing small, messy circles into you. You wrap his arms around your waist and pull yourself to his face, kissing him. It’s messy, drool falling down both your chins, tongues moving without thought behind them. It feels so good, so intimate, that you can’t help but fall for his touch.

After you cum, you see that he’s passed out under you. You remove yourself from him. He’s still breathing, so no, you didn’t accidentally fuck him to death. You did take quite a lot of energy from him, though. You pick up his shorts from before and maneuver them back onto him.

When you heard him say I love you, it felt as if your world stopped. Did he mean it? Was he only saying it because he was so close to cumming? He did say that he’d want to be with you forever, and you can’t say that you would mind that. You have enough power to make something happen.

Before you go, you whisper into his ear, “Wherever you go, I’ll always find you.”

Haechan wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed. It feels as though last night never happened, only occurring in his dreams.

Despite how strenuous last night was for him, he doesn't feel sore or tired. He does feel pain on his back, but he’ll check on that later. One moment, he’s laying in bed feeling content, and in another, he feels alone. Even though he only knew you for that short amount of time, he feels more connected to you than anyone he’s known before. An unknown feeling of sorrow weighs in on him, knowing you don’t really exist in the way he wants you to.

Before he gets too sad at the thought of you, he gets up and walks to his bathroom. He does his little routine in the restroom, and before leaving, he decides to check that spot that’s hurting.

He turns around and lets his back face the mirror. On his right shoulder, he sees your initials scratched onto him. It’s freshly healed with a circle around it. Did you… brand him?

He’s filled with different emotions all at once. One, that’s kinda hot. The thought of him being practically owned by a demon, specifically you, makes the back of his neck feel warm. Secondly, he’s reminded of his previous sadness. You were right there with him last night, and there’s a big chance he’ll never be able to see you again. Third, which is probably the most important, he’s filled with dread.

He may or may not have said things last night that would’ve gotten him in trouble. Yes to being owned by you, yes to being fucked into hell, yes to meeting you in every lifetime. In his defense, he thought it was all dirty talk that usually happens during sex. He wouldn’t have known it was ever really, especially if he was pussy drunk. He can’t say he would really mind this happening, wanting to see you one more time.

Months pass. The scratches fade into scars that he tries to forget about. One comeback passes and he’s currently in the middle of promoting another. He’s with his 127 members this time. He remembers the day after you and him had sex, he told his members what had happened. Of course, they all made fun of him, assuming it was a wet dream. He grumbled to himself that he had proof, but it probably wasn’t best to show his members some demon scratches.

It’s one day after a schedule where him and his members are ready to go to their respective homes. He finds himself feeling more tired today despite the fact that they won at a music show. They all get ready to leave into their assigned cars outside. He’s aware that some fans will be waiting for them outside, so he shakes off his fatigue and puts on a bright face. They walk outside and hear their names being called out. He nods in their general direction. Until he hears one call of his name.

Not Haechan, but Donghyuck. He knows some fans call him by his real name, but this one feels special. He feels it course throughout his body, the sound of the voice getting stuck in his brain. He whips his head in the direction he heard it and sees you, standing behind a group of fans. You’re smiling at him, and he knows it's you. He feels it’s you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice calling out to him. It’s all too familiar.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper, “I’ve found you.”

a/n: this became way longer than i expected but i hope you all ENJOYYY i love my sweet haechan

tag list: @crzns

#haechan smut #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader #haechan fic #sub haechan #nct fic #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut

357 notes · View notes

doobea · 6 months

Text

DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR - REO MIKAGE

synopsis: Being a college student sucks. Having a crush on your best friend also sucks. Your best friend having a crush on your other best friend is . . . kinda the worst. In which, Reo is hopelessly in love with you but you’re hard crushing on Nagi.

-> MASTERLIST. -> PLAYLIST.

contents: second lead syndrome feat. fem!reader & reo, heavy narration in the beginning as per usual whoops, also in an au where bluelock never happened LOL, grandparental meeting, reo x stardew valley vibes, of course y/n and reo get together duh, nagi's been shipping them together since high school word count: 3.9K a/n: FINAL PART OUT YAY :3 thank you for joining me on this journey hehe this was also my first time attempt of writing reo so hopefully his characterization went ok ;-;

VEGA -> prev.

You get the feeling that Nagi is up to something, after a while.

Well, Nagi is always up to something — gaming and dozing off, to be exact. This time, though, all of his attention seems to be fixated on you.

“That’s not your sweater,” he says, pointedly, one day, when you waltz into their apartment with a handful of pastries. You decided to make a detour trip to a local bakery earlier in the morning, carefully curating the palettes of the two males because —well— after that happened you felt like a small offering would be needed in a way.

Like how many others delegate, the kiss was rather… confusing to all. Nagi doesn’t bring it up when you three all return back to festival grounds, nor does he bring it up to Reo when you finally go home. Reo’s been texting you like all things are normal, and you guess it’s because he doesn’t really know what to do either. Though, he’s been more endearing than usual over text, which you take as a sign that something is progressing.

Let’s just say that it’ll be weird for you to wake up without a ‘good morning, did you eat yet?’ text from a certain billionaire’s son.

Backstory aside, Nagi’s not lounging around for once. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands from a brand you’re not familiar with. Judging by its fine print font and pastel color scheme, you assumed that Nana stopped by not too long ago. And his gaze isn’t leaving your sweater. Whatever, you’re probably not wearing it correctly anyway. Stupid rich people problems.

“It’s Reo’s,” you say, lightly, and scoot by him to place down the baked goods. “He accidentally gave me his sweater when he returned my things, that’s all.”

It wasn’t an accident. Reo had made sure to spray that sweater with all the cologne he had. The sweater is warm, comfortable, and smells just like him. It’s nice.

Nagi gives you a look. It’s not a strong look, but it’s obvious enough to make your cheeks heat up. “Uh huh,” he deadpans before giving you a full up-down. “You’re wearing it, though.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shrug it off, trying to pretend that you don’t understand what the big deal was.

Okay, yeah, your best friend suddenly kisses you and now you’re rethinking about your life choices since high school because you were so sure that you liked his other friend. And the fact that you kissed back? Was that supposed to happen? And you didn’t wear this sweater today in hopes of Reo seeing you, nope that’s not it. Reo doesn’t make you feel warm and fuzzy because this sweater does all of that. It’s a comfort thing and Reo doesn’t bring you comfort… right?

You apparently have some cheesy expression written all over your face, though, and that causes Nagi to pinch your cheek to snap you back to reality. “Suits you,” Nagi decides to end the topic before shifting to the main subject. “Reo’s out this morning.”

“I wasn’t trying to see him,” you grumble out, eyes narrowing as you fix yourself a latte and adding way too many shots of espresso to fight off your internal turmoil. You add a large serving of caramel syrup to balance out the bitterness and then top it off with a heavy serving of whipped cream, sighing happily as you get a mouthful of the sugary concoction within the first sip.

Nagi simply shakes his head and drains the rest of his drink in one go. “Well, he’s been talking about you nonstop, if that makes—” Nagi stops in his tracks when he watches your ears perk up. “—you happy…”

At this point, Nagi probably thinks everyone is in on a poorly executed inside joke, except for him. He doesn’t like it, but what can he do? His two best friends are now awkwardly pinning each other and neither of them are sparing him any details. Then again, he’s not sure if he wants all the details. So, instead of poking a dead fish around, he exits to the living room and throws on a weekly series that he’s been meaning to catch up on. These past two months have been quite tiring.

You eventually join him on the couch, body now running on full blast of caffeine and loads of caramel. “Sei, tell me everything that he’s said, please?” and you throw out your best attempt at puppy eyes because you know that Nagi has always been horrible at saying no to these kinds of things.

But maybe getting a girlfriend has changed him, somewhat.

“You’ll hear it from him, eventually,” Nagi simply answers, smiling.

Of course, regardless of how many times you repeat yourself, Nagi would spit back the same response. Since when did he start caring for Reo’s secrecy all of a sudden? Pretty lame. You zone out when an action sequence comes on the screen and begin texting Reo.

‘where are you’ You text over a character monologue in the background.

‘At some stores, picking up last minute gifts for later.’ Reo replies back with a series of emojis.

By ‘stores’, you would only guess it’s nothing but high-end designer stuff. ‘Gifts’ implying that he’s buying multiple for your family and relatives. ‘Later’ is when the two of you will depart on visiting your hometown for the weekend because it turns out Reo was actually serious about taking up your off-handed comment.

‘i told you not to get anything!!’ You send an angry emoji right after.

Nagi is absolutely reading over your shoulder, too, and if looks could kill, you’re pretty sure you’d be in a million pieces, burning to bits on the floor. “Got a hot date with Reo, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t want to come and we’re not dating…” you huff before pushing him away. “And stop reading my texts!”

“Don’t text while I’m watching my show, it’s distracting.” Nagi shoots back, and you don’t really have an argument for that.

Though, you just glare at him until he eventually backs off and you go back to texting Reo, a bit more subtly, talking about various expensive gifts that he can get instead of showing up to your family doorsteps with diamonds and silk robes. You haven’t had anyone from the city come visit your hometown, so you’re a little nervous to say the least. Especially since someone accompanying you is several tax brackets ahead…though Reo wouldn’t judge you differently. Because he likes you, in more ways than one. Fuck.

You’re ignoring a lot of things happening right now, and bringing him over to meet your family is making you feel weird. Ugh, whatever.

In the end, Reo ends up returning half of his purchases because apparently designer bags and jewelry won't serve your grandparents that well in their everyday lives. So he opts to buy them expensive fruits instead. Fruits are already expensive in the country, so when Reo showed up with boxed grapes that costed more than your current outfit, you could've sworn your eyes were about to pop out of your sockets.

Reo should’ve known better than to wear anything remotely formal when he agreed to come visit your hometown. Tailored suits are expensive and difficult to replace and, from what he’s experienced within the past hour, the mud that’s been splattered all over his dress shoes and pants haven’t gone away no matter how much cleaning reagent he’s used so far. But complaints are off the table, no matter how much he absolutely wants to point out the sweltering heat and the lack of air conditioning in your home.

The plane ride over wasn’t any better. You blatantly refused to use his credit card for first-class seating upgrades regardless how many times he’d begged you.

“It’ll only be a two hour flight, Reo. Plus, economy isn’t that bad.” You reasoned.

Oh, but it was.

He’s a gentleman and gentlemen should always let others pick which seat they want first. Window seat was a non negotiable for you, and he didn’t really mind. What he did mind was the random stranger seated to his right.

Screen brightness — max.

Volume settings — max.

Chewing noises — sadly, also max.

It’s a miracle that he didn’t flag down an attendant and leave you for first class. Well, flight aside, landing happens and, inevitably, comes the next part.

“Are you enjoying your stay so far?”

Your grandmother comes into view, coming to Reo’s rescue with a sunhat and a bottle of water, and the basket next to her was already filled to the brim with all types of vegetable assortments from the garden. Reo graciously takes the hat and sips of the water before glancing down at his own basket, which is very much barren. He thought offering to help with harvesting will win him some brownie points, but he should’ve known how dirty it would get.

“It’s definitely different from what I’m used to, but it’s nice here.” He’s honest about the last part.

The city doesn’t offer much in terms of parks and recreational activities and, despite the fact he’s pretty sure his button up is practically attached to his skin and that there’s probably a centipede (or two) crawling in his shoes, the whole nature thing is pretty serene. Your parents’ old home is a cozy cottage right off the side of the country road, surrounded by rice paddy fields with a wide range of mountains in the backdrop. Occasionally, Reo would see truck drivers making pit stops out in the front to either pick up a small shipment or make small talk with your grandfather — it’s completely foreign to him given that he’s so used to the stuffy business world. Seeing all of this makes Reo understand why some would enjoy a life of simple living and solitude.

Your grandmother laughs. “We were afraid that you wouldn’t like it here.”

To this, Reo digs his hands back into the soil and pulls out a set of carrots in hands. “Sorry, did I give off that impression?” Says the boy who’s currently dressed head to toe in formal wear. Idiot.

“Our granddaughter has been…” she trails off for a moment, finger pursed to her lips and head tilted, before finishing. “She’s been blowing up the family group chat about this trip for a while now. Safe to say she’s been worried.”

Oh. That’s news.

Reo wipes off the puddle of sweat from his face and straightens his back. “It’s beautiful and peaceful here, you wouldn’t be able to get this back in the city. Everyone’s been really nice and the food,” he points down to the field. “You wouldn’t be able to get these without them costing an arm and a leg for the sake of being ‘organic’.”

“Sounds like you want to move here.”

And for the sake of earning those brownie points, “Yeah, I can see myself doing that one day.”

“Imagine that. Can’t stay away from our granddaughter, right?” she teases, and it causes him to do a double take.

“W-What?”

She ignores Reo’s stammering and hands him a pair of gloves and a metal bucket. “Once you finish picking the rest, come meet me by the farmhouse, the cows need some attention.”

Reo might have to rethink his career path after this trip.

“Can you tell your cousins to knock it off, please?” Your best friend is grumbling and hiding behind you for all things safety related.

One thing you forgot to mention, outside of the laborious work, is that your little cousins are an absolute menace to outsiders. The youngest one has been non stop terrorizing Reo around the house with a live grasshopper while the older one keeps throwing him glares and middle fingers. This has been going on right after dinner and Reo’s getting really sick of them and their chattering about how they hate seeing you with someone that needs ‘pampering’.

You huff and roll your eyes playfully. “You think I haven’t tried shutting them up?”

“Good point,” Reo groans from behind. He’s gripping your shoulders as if he’s on life support, shaking every time the youngest one raises the grasshopper closer. “Can’t you just give them an iPad or anything?”

“And what? So they can turn into those kids who stare at a screen all day? No thank you.” You tease, but you give your cousins a final stern look before getting to their eye level.

Reo watches, silent but amused, as you pluck the insect out of the boy’s grasp and pinch his cheek with a light tug, not enough to shed tears but enough to cause him to yelp. You motion the older one over, who just grumbles under his breath but obeys anyway.

“Big sis, we swear we’re just playing together—” the older one starts, and you simply respond with a hard head shake.

“That’s not how we treat guests in our home. Last time I checked, you guys didn’t like it when I made you clean out the pig pen for fun,” you retort with a casual grin. “Time to head back to auntie’s place anyway, it’s way past your bedtimes.”

Both of them sigh in defeat, but that doesn’t stop them from throwing up a pair of middle fingers at Reo. Hey, down with the rich — they’re on the right track in life. And you know deep down they’re just looking out for you ever since your experience in high school, even if the hatred towards city folks is on the extreme side.

You’re stifling a laugh as the pair leave the house. Reo loosens his grip on your shoulders when they are out of ear shot and nudges your sides because you still have that damn grasshopper in your hands.

“Puke or cry in my house and I’m making you sleep with the cows tonight.” The threat is spoken casually, with a bit of affection to it, but Reo knows damn well it’s a valid threat.

“I’m not going to puke or cry,” he replies, haughtily. “And, for the record, I helped the cows earlier today so I’m practically their mother.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for that, you didn’t have to.” You gently toss the grasshopper out the kitchen window, making sure it landed on a patch of soft grass. “Grandma was constantly raving about you after you finished. Saying something about planning the next weekend trip together.”

“Yeah, might as well help around, you know?” Reo weakly chuckles and briefly looks down at his hands. What he doesn’t add is that his hands are going to be sore for the next few days and that maybe your grandparents think he’s going to move in with them in the future. Something of that sort.

“It’s not the worst idea,” You grin. The sun is down, and the stars in the sky are starting to poke through. You catch Reo trying to get a good look before an idea pops up. “My room has a pretty good view of everything, if you want to head up?” You would offer to lay outside but, considering that the ecosystem here offers much bigger bugs, you decided against it.

Unsurprisingly, Reo takes up on the suggestion.

Your old bedroom is sparsely furnished, and that’s intentional. Most of your personal belongings are currently at your college apartment. All that’s left is a full sized bed, an old boxy television with an equally old boxy stand, a couple of bookshelves stuffed full of children's books, and one of those large colorful beanbags by the window sill.

It’s a nice bedroom, for all things considered. A lot more vibrant and has more character than Reo’s old bedroom growing up. From what he’s shown you before, his bedroom was almost a black and white minimalist’s wet dream.

“It’s a bit dusty, hope you don’t mind.”

Your bedroom window has a nice view of the mountain side, and Reo’s quickly distracted by the swarm of fireflies and night stars as he quickly shoves his suitcase into the corner and settles on your bed without a second thought.

“I like it,” He replies, in a careful, casual voice. And maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear, your best friend sounds both anxious and excited, and maybe there’s a hint of nerves in there, too. Whatever it is, your stomach is back to doing those weird flips.

You try to think. You’re aware of several things right now. First, your best friend is making himself very comfortable in your bed. Second, he’s giving you a look, one that just screams some sort of smug superiority. Third, despite it being humid and warm in your room, you really just want to bury your face into his shoulder. Maybe you should climb in with him, look at the stars together, curled up and snuggling, maybe even run your fingers through his hair, and—

“So,” Reo interrupts and snaps you out of your strange reverie. “You’re sleeping on the floor, right?”

“Huh?” your voice is bleary, and your thoughts are kinda far off. Reo shuffles his way under your sheets and suddenly you put two and two together. “I saved you from those little demons and this is the thanks I get?”

“I deserve it since I worked,” Reo sighs, dramatically, when you finally find the courage to sit down on the ends of the mattress. “Or did you want to share it together?” Tease oozes into his tone.

That last bit makes your heart skip a couple of beats. Alcohol wasn’t in the dinner mix and, even if it was, Reo would never be this bold in front of you. Perhaps there’s something floating in the summer air.

“Stop pretending that you live here,” but you eventually settle yourself underneath the blankets too, just on the other side to put some good inches in between.

Reo’s smiling, and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t bother you when he manages to hog all the blankets and the limited amount of pillows. He’s a gentleman, but also has his needy side that he’s not afraid of showing. Not to mention that he looks good in the dim lighting, even though he’s only been wearing one of your grandpa’s old t-shirts after working in the field. It finally makes the strange fluttering in your stomach calm into a steady, present warmth, and that’s maybe more problematic, but you don’t give it any real thought.

Reo speaks up after a few passing heartbeats. “Can I… say something?”

You swallow thickly. “Go for it.”

It can’t be just your imagination, the way Reo’s mouth parts, just a little, the way his tongue is dating out to wet his lips. You’re leaning forward, hand reaching down between. You can’t stop looking at him.

“I want…” Reo tries to say, but his throat is a giant lump.

“Reo,” You breathe out in response, head tipping, “If you keep looking at me like that, then…”

It comes in swift moments, with Reo pressed close, with both of your hips bumping together, with arms slung over the other’s shoulder. There’s been those moments of laughter, where it feels as if the whole world has faded away in a blur beyond the gaze of your best friend. It’s cliche and dumb, but you feel, in a way, that you’ve been looking at Reo for your life. And you have, really, because he’s always been there for you.

There’s a lot of things that Reo could say. They’re burning on his tongue, building in his throat, getting stuck there. He should just push them out, just say it. Or, maybe, he should say nothing at all, because that wonder and those answers are all reflected in your gaze.

Both of you are so close that he can make out every strand of your lashes. He can see the subtle shift of color in your eyes, the dark band increasing around your pupils, that slight nervous glimmer there. It’s got Reo’s heart pounding in his chest, hammering to be freed. He’s got one hand pressed into the small of your back, stroking there, slow and affectionate. His other hand is trembling, just a little, and he steadies himself bracing it against your cheek.

It’s got you shivering, and Reo realizes that you’re both a bit terrified.

“I want to be yours,” Reo might be nervous as hell, but he steels his voice, and brushes your lips together, he’s so close, when he talks. “I can’t think about anything else when I’m with you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but—��

“Reo,” you take the initiative here, shifting closer, and settling your lips close to his neck. “It’s okay. I want you too.”

You take another inch forward and Reo allows it. Maybe you’re both getting more comfortable with each other. Maybe getting brave and feeling more grown up. Likely, it’s a combination of everything, and a good dose of ‘fuck it’s, from being young, and dumb, despite it all.

You’re not sure who leans in first but, before it even fully registers, his lips glide over yours. There’s some awkward teeth clacking involved, probably from the fact both of you are way too full of nerves over this, but Reo fixes it and begins to trace his tongue over the small opening of your lips. You move your hands straight to his locks, still damp from the earlier shower he took and the scent of lemongrass and citrus invades your nostrils.

Reo's kissing you as if he wants to swallow you whole. It's hungry, desperate, and intimate in a way that made your heart swell triple in size. The sounds of your beating chest floods your ears as he's pouring his emotions into the kiss, making sure that he's leaving behind evidence that his soul is yours to claim. The heat radiating off his body pulls you in, like an invitation, and you sink further into his touch.

After a moment, you pull back, hands still entangled in his hair.

“Your parents, aren’t you worried about—”

“I don’t pay mind to that type of stuff,” he presses a firm kiss on your forehead. “And you shouldn't have to either. That’s a future thing to worry about.”

That sounds good, you agree, but you’re growing too sleepy to voice it. Instead, you shut your eyes, reaching over blindly to find the edges of the blankets, tugging it up over you two. There’s really no way to move, without cramming at the edge of the mattress. You don’t care, and Reo doesn’t seem to, either.

“Hey, Reo?” You mumble as you both slip into silence.

“Yeah?” He’s tried, but awake enough to shake past the exhaustion, enough to form vague words. “What is it?”

You sit up, just a little, and it’s enough to inspire Reo to force his eyes open. You’re watching him, eyes intent, shining bright with emotion. It’s almost — just almost — enough to have Reo saying those three special little words. They’re right there, on the tip of his tongue, and only then he realizes that he’s terribly in love with you. He’s hopelessly in love. It’s way too early to say it, but he is.

You laugh, burying your face in Reo’s neck again, pressing a kiss there. “I’m glad that you’re here with me.”

Reo has hesitated a lot, during the past months. It’s taken him a while to get here. For once, though, awake or dreaming, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t hesitate.

“I’m glad too,” he mumbles, and then, he’s dreaming, of endless what if’s and possibilities with you now in his life.

additional note: idk why it took me over a month to pump this out LMAO but i hope you guys like the ending bc i was mulling over this chapter so many times before deciding to end it as such... anyways, I WILL BE BACK INTO MY BLLK FIC GROOVE HEHE gotta focus on my milestone fics + that ice skating rin series next :3 i love you guys and thanks again for being patient with me ;3

TAGLIST -CLOSED

@celestair @kitorin @popponn @yoisami @anurst @katsukiiishoe @yuzurins @vitaniangel-blog @kunikame @miwafei @astruoise @faeroow @wooasecret @limerence-lu @jaynawayna @iloveblogging2 @futuristicxie @rinlvr @au-ghosttype @wavetokio @yuusami @phtogravi @funnibunneh @idontevenknow129 @startaee @darthvada @livelaughloveisagiyoichi

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #doobea writing #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #DAYTIME SHOOTING STAR - REO MIKAGE #bllk reo #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x female reader #BYE THIS IS THE FINALE WHOO #why did this take me forever idk #what started out as a mini thing turned into long words uh oh #time to refocus on that rin ice skating thing...

218 notes · View notes

greetings-humans · 18 days

Text

suo hayato - martial arts rant

(minor plot spoilers for up until episode 4/chapter 8)

(all the stuff here also otherwise spoil suo's fighting style which you first see at ep 5/ch11-12)

now do you see this? (from ep 5)

and this (chapter 12)

so I have some experience in martial arts, like im a black belt in zendo ryuu karate do (a decently niche style of karate and like I also did a bit of jiu-jitsu, tho no competitions for any of these) but anyways this feels wrong.

now I don't claim to know all there is about martial arts but um. given the power behind even the weakest of punches (and kanumo (the opponent) survived shishitouren during its extremist phase so he can't be that weak), putting your hand in front of an incoming fist is a recipe for disaster and so much pain. the same can be said for attempting to... grab (??) the fist from above with your palm and your extended fingers, like you can see in the panel.

my poor, abused, tendinitis-ridden arms feel the pain for you, suo, please stop it.

we know from the manga, that suo isn't one of the people with "monster strength" (and those people also shouldn't be doing moves like this but I'll assume that monster strength also comes with insane muscle support on their arms/forearms/hands and they're also not trained in martial arts so whatever. let them make their mistakes since it doesn't hurt them that much) because suo is never described as having "monster strength" so him doing this is just off.

but, dee, you might say, this is a fucking manga/anime about teenage gangsters were you expecting realism??

as of episode 5 / chapter 12 (?), suo has confirmed that he's dabbled in mixed martial arts. you cant have him making these sort of mistakes for the shits and giggles.

and these feel like a decently basic mistakes, too. i asked my brother his opinion on this as a blue-belt in karate and he agrees with me that suo is off here. i asked my bsf (who has like a yellow belt in taekwondo but hasn't practiced martial arts in like nearly a decade) on an opinion on people using their palm to block an incoming punch and he thought that's weird. I asked google and even fucking wikihow disagrees with the palm thing.

like. use your opponent's momentum against themselves yes. but also.

nowhere is there a mention of stopping the momentum with your palm. your fucking palm??? hello??? or stopping the momentum by grabbing the fist like that?? who grabs a fist from above😭😭 suo look at your goddamn wrist. joints are scared of you.

out of the top of my head, suo is in danger of breaking his fingers or spraining/breaking his wrist or fucking up his elbow, or some funky combination thereof. and he's also definitely getting in some sort of trouble with his tendon. but c'est la vie, ig.

and btw. he has pulled this off correctly a few times in the manga.

chapter 11

in the bottom right corner you see him deflecting properly and safely. and then rushing ahead to get out of Kanuma's range (wouldn't want a falling Kanuma to grab him on his way down lol). no clue what his left hand is doing tho. even if he was attempting to assume a ready stance. what the hell is his elbow doing that high? and why is his palm open and looking away from him? fuck if I know, this doesn't look like karate but there are like thousands of schools of karate with different variations so who knows. it's vaguely giving king fu or jiu jitsu but take this with a grain of salt.

or this from chapter 68. also correct technique. don't come at me for spoilers btw, I've literally given you zero context.

tho to be fair, I'm a little confused as to the angle that he's hand is at? like it seems like his torso is in front of the punch (which vaguely makes sense because the other guy can presumably aim towards center mass aka torso), but like suo should already be moving his torso away so his arm shouldn't be reaching out from that angle. whatever. I'll forgive this. it's super minor.

10/10 for just grabbing the damn wrist instead of what he was doing before.

tho once again to be fair, I'm also a little confused about what his free hand is doing but whatever. and how did the other guy lose his balance? idk suo tagged at his punching arm hard ig. and giving the "whap" sfx then he might have somehow hit the other dude's leg? certainly not with his free hand cause given his stance, he's still not low enough to hit the foot or shin of the other guy (which is what the panel insinuates). unless he ducked? like crouched down while holding the dude's wrist and used his free hand to 'whap'? or maybe suo used his front leg? idk. whatever. still better than before.

nii satoru (the mangaka) so far seems great, because windbreaker has a nice plot and a fun, diverse cast of rather realistic teenagers (given the plot). he does seem to have a weakness when it comes to official martial arts styles, though, and that transferred towards the animation, as well.

hey wbk fandom give me your thoughts. idk if there are more ppl into wbk that also dabble(d) in martial arts but I'd love to hear your thoughts, especially!

#suo hayato #deelay words #sorry for the rant #i just had so many opinions #windbreaker #wbk #wbk manga #wbk anime #wbk suo #windbreaker suo #wind breaker #hayato suo #martial arts #long post

59 notes · View notes

tangledinink · 6 months

Note

Hi, I really love your AUs, can't wait to see more!

eEEEE THANK YOU ; w ; this all so sweet and makes me so happy aaaAAAAAA

ask dump below~

he was 5'3" previously, he's now more like five feet maybe a little bit less. if you were to measure him and mikey back to back, mikey would be a tiny bit taller. you can't really tell yet, though, since donnie currently can't stand, and up until now he was constantly on tip-toes. he's also just very underweight right now, which makes him seem even smaller. as he recovers and gains some weight back, he'll seem a bit less itty-bitty.

thank you! ; w ; also while i don't think he's ever, like, straight up wiggled his fingers at a boy, i do think he occasionally gets a little fidgety/twitchy with his hands and fingers when he has a crush. maybe also tends to do little arm/shoulder touches with his outstretched fingers as well when he's flirting. u w u

It's completely gone! his tummy and hips are now just like the other exposed parts of his body, like his arms and legs-- just skin and scales. I don't think it ever actually came up in the main part of the comic, but is illustrated in his reference image in the masterpost! Also don't worry, no ill-effects from being crop-topped. It'll just take a bit of getting used to. (If anything, it's a bit of a boon at the moment for the rest of the fam. A lot of medical care is a lot easier without plastron blocking the patient's entire torso.)

HEHEHE, thank you <3 i love making them wag their tails I think it's so cute and silly... <3 I think Raph (across all AU's, lol) has definitely accidentally hurt himself wagging his tail in excitement on at least one occasion.

Oh gosh. It's hard to say because it's such a spectrum... It would have to be a pretty nasty injury for the witchdoctors to not be able to do something about it. But assuming they can't... Big Mama would never outright ask the Gems to perform on a serious injury, but the twins would definitely feel pressure to continue performing for as long as they possibly could, and to keep recovery time as short as possible. If they had to take time off to heal, they would, (and have in the past,) but they'd definitely be impatient to get back on the field. If the injury is truly so bad that one or both of them can no longer perform, they'd probably both retire, (though extremely reluctantly, and doing so would be incredibly heartbreaking for them and cause them a lot of grief and guilt,) because neither would want to go on without the other. There might be some pushback from Big Mama, though, and the uninjured party could potentially be convinced, with enough time and enough conversations, to make a comeback...

Poorly. It'd probably go about the same way it did for Donnie, except worse the second time around. They'd probably both be in trouble for it-- Leo for keeping things for her, and Donnie because she (correctly) assumes that he's 'influenced' Leo somehow, since he did the same thing first.

he is being SOOOO brave right now... but he can't NOT. not when his kids are on the line :< though I will say, you're being quite optimistic about how his conversation with Big Mama is gonna go... 👀

lmao april is maybe in a TEENSY bit over her head, bless her. splinter definitely struggled over whether or not to bring her with him to see big mama. he tried to convince her to let him escort her back home once he realized where he had to go, but of course she wouldn't hear of it. thought about having her wait outside, but... is so reluctant to leave her alone in the hidden city... knew she would probably pushback anyway, too, so...

the twins will definitely have a ton of therapy and healing to tackle in the future <3 my poor sweet baby boys....

THANK YOU <3 <3 <3

@11bountyhunters @oh-my-muffins @oneshortlove @khlegacynexus @animal-lover-forever @wings-of-sapphire @devious-little-creature @riseleon

#asks #ask dump #sorrywhatnowau asks #gemini au asks #gemini asks #swanatello asks #anon #HEHEHE THANKS GANG #sorry i always hoard so many of these lol #if you sent one in that isnt answered here its probably been answered before #or im saving it for a swannie update #or i wanna draw something in response #or it just got ated by tumblr lol = 3 =#sobs... im really happy... that i can inspire some people... and you guys like the things i do... ; w ;

101 notes · View notes

captain-hen · 24 days

Note

I totally agree with you in your last rb from your post. I don’t see Bucktommy as endgame, for me Buddie is endgame and I think the writers would lose an amazing opportunity to create the slowest of slow burns but the fastest relationship (if they did it correctly and renewed, they’d be married in season 10).

Anyways, if Buck ends with Tommy, is totally possible and fair that Eddie ends with someone else. He deserves to be in a healthy relationship in which he doesn’t feel like he’s pretending or playing a part, but he’s excited, and enthusiastic, and in love and happy! He deserves to have the family he has always wanted

yeah, like...my entire thing is that we've barely seen buck and tommy as a couple, we don't know the first thing (yet) about how they're gonna function as a couple, and we haven't even seen any moments of emotional intimacy yet (and this is a show that prioritizes emotional intimacy over the physical for it's canon couples). and everyone thinks they have the potential to be endgame, which is fine! good! that's your opinion! but if such an underdeveloped relationship that we don't know the first thing about somehow has so much potential (an assumption based on absolutely nothing at all), then why is the possibility of the writers introducing something similar for eddie so impossible? you can argue that tommy is already an established character and what not, but so far the writers have barely been leaning on that to develop his relationship with buck. we all assumed he would play some big role in 7x06 because of his history with chim and being a pilot, but the writers didn't even bother doing anything even remotely similar to that. lol. so, again, i ask, why is it so unthinkable for eddie to also have a love interest introduced for him in a similar way?

#neethu answers #anon

23 notes · View notes

iknowshocker · 11 days

Note

Anon from the last question here 🙋‍♀️ LOVED your answer and love a good Kai psychoanalysis 🙌

You mentioned it’s hc that 1994 Kai is virgin!kai, which got me thinking… did he ever really have any romantic or physical experiences? (Legacies Kai never happened in my mind 🥲)

And kind of on the same note, what do you think life was like for him when he was 18-22? It’s hc for me that he was homeschooled, but we don’t really know anything from the time he turned 18 until he was sent to a prison world

omg hi!! thank you for the question i've been having so much fun answering! i should have made a place to talk about my boy sooner, i could yap about him all day 😂

(oh man legacies kai my deeply insane beloved) he's really cracked out in those episodes but there are a few little moments where he feels like himself that i hold onto lol i just wish they hadn't put in his fling with the immortal teenager like he was 👉🏼👈🏼 close to being the only man to make it out of the TVDu without an inappropriate relationship i know there's an age gap with bonnie but it's simply not the same imo

okay here we go 18-22 kai:

so i assume, in the most affectionate way possible, that he gave off major JD from the heathers vibes. (the black cargo pants with the heavy ass combat boots?? he's a scary boy and he knows it lmao)

that age of young adulthood is such a volatile time, but for kai his resentments are growing, it's getting closer and closer to the merge, and if he can just wait it out a little longer everything is finally going to change. so lots of pent up energy, studying like crazy, in general running himself into the ground to insure everything goes the way he desperately needs it to. this also explains why he built up to such a violent snap. it's the one thing he's been holding on to, he was literally born for it, and then they still take it away.

those stupid christmas sweater photos make me think that everyone was living at home up until may 10th. unlike liv/luke i think joshua kept jo/kai close because he felt he needed to watch kai. i've always found it interesting that Jo goes into the medical field but Kai has the anatomy knowledge to cut out her spleen correctly lmao i hc they both had an interest in medicine, with him looking for a cure probably and jo maybe helping him at least at first. crazy to think that they probably would have still become a dr regardless of which one of them won the og merge!

anyway yes i think they were stuck living at home, with kai basically being held hostage and Jo being forced into a caretaker role since their mother died giving birth to the baby twins. (that's not like fully confirmed but the timeline works out so to me it's basically canon lol)

i mentioned kai having PTSD centered on touch and i think that would make any sort of social stuff hard for him. he's been taught to think he's dangerous and he's not been given any tools to keep from being that way. i hc most of his knowledge of his power came from trial and error, because joshua was like "alright no magic for you keep that in check demon spawn" from the time it manifested. (listen i could write dissertations on how despicable it is that they KNEW about gemini siphons and just refused to find ways to help him) that sort of fear/mistrust over his own abilities starting at such a young age would be totally crippling.

i read a fic once where he sleep siphoned Jo when they were young and nearly killed her during a nightmare. i could absolutely see things like that happening, and it leaving him terrified to do it again. but then his sociopathy developing would give him the ability to lash out without worrying about the guilt of his actions. but just because he doesn't let himself feel guilty doesn't mean he doesn't know what he did was wrong. i can imagine it would be so conflicting to need magic to work/feel normal but the only way to get it is to hurt the only people around you day to day. just a nightmare all around.

(have you seen the deleted scene with Jo/Kai? because that monologue from him lives rent free in my mind. the panicked breathing, the sad eyes, the desperation in his tone !! i just can't handle it lmao they 100% cut it because leaving it in and still killing him would have caused riots in the streets)

being homeschooled would limit the entire family's outside interactions, but i imagine they usually left kai at the house when they went out to the shops/coven gatherings/general outings. he does have basic people skills when we meet him so it's not like he's 100% ostracized but i do think a lot of his personality is him mimicking things he's seen in movies/mirroring the people around him in a given moment. he's faking it based off of what he thinks would be correct and when he gets it wrong you can see him deflate.

if he was allowed to go out growing up, i think he probably stuck to Jo and let her do the talking. so when she started pulling away from him too and he didn't have a buffer, it was probably easier to just stay home instead of risking it on his own.

i'm a person who hears his version of "they isolated me" and Jos "our parents saw him pulling away, isolating himself" and lands somewhere in the middle. i think they had rules over him not touching anyone/made it very clear he couldn't be trusted and that left kai feeling like "okay well f you guys i'll just go back to my room" it was just easier for him to go ahead and leave instead of let them bully him into leaving.

like he's the oldest, but do we think the other siblings listened to him ?? nah, man, there's simply no way. by the time they reached 22, no one in the house but liv/luke showed much interest in him. and he had to know that the older they got, they'd grow to believe joshua/fear him too. that had to be freaking exhausting, not to mention hurtful as hell.

(i mean... "When your family decides that you are nothing but an irredeemable piece of trash, well…I guess the best thing to do is prove them right, right?” like by the time we get to the red wedding, they broke him. there's no more second chances or trying again or believing they'll change. he's done. but he had to get pushed to that point and i think it was building his entire life.)

i hc as the oldest Jo/Kai shared a car, but to be so honest i always assumed he taught himself how to drive (fast lol) in the prison world. i would love to believe they snuck out to concerts together or had little adventures growing up but i think Jo turned on him somewhere around the time she realized she wasn't going to be allowed to go off to college. she would have had her own resentments around being stuck with him because of him, and so i don't see them having much of a relationship past the age of like 16.

to circle back to romantic relationships, i just don't think kai ever had an opportunity to be close enough to anyone for anything to happen romantically or even platonically pre prison world.

that's why bonnie showing up is such a big deal. she's this beautiful, funny, smart witch and she's just suddenly !! in his world !! the fact that he can't help getting close to her means everything to me. there's something about her/her magic that just tugs him in. "yeah but i wanted to feel your hand on my chest" come ON once you know the implications of that statement how do people not melt. babes is so touch starved he's dying for anyyyyoneeee to love on him.

bonkai sidenote: im a firm believer that grams was playing matchmaker. i hc she knew kai growing up and tried to help him when she could, which is why they went the prison world route instead of simply getting rid of him. without a bennett to bind the spell it wouldn't have been possible, so she agreed to keep something else from happening to him. she literally tells bonnie she gave up her peace so that bonnie could find hers, knowing 100% she was sending her to a world where kai was waiting/he couldn't be killed/and they would have to work together to escape. even more than that, damon wasn't supposed to go !!! so grams knew they'd be alone and either assumed bonnie could handle him or believed there was enough good in kai that it wouldn't go badly for bonnie or both lol we know from the jump that grams adores bonnie, there's not a chance in hell she would have sent her there if she thought for a second kai would hurt her. i just don't think she realized how sick he would become on his own, and adding damon into the mix changes the dynamics because kai is trying to come off stronger than he is.

yikes sorry i dont know how to discuss him without discussing bonnie 🙈

again thank you for your ask!!

#kai parker #bonkai #the vampire diaries #tvdu #anon ask

20 notes · View notes

levmada · 4 months

Note

hello! how are you? hope life's going well for you!

I have a little question.

so, as we all know, there has been a lot of speculation on whether Levi's a virgin or not.

and I've read your personality analysis of Levi (which, omg, bless you, I love) and his mental issues etc...

but here's my question, according to your analysis and your opinion, do you think he is a virgin or not?

also, there's that part where he says that he was "popular enough" with women...what do you think he meant by that? idk why, but I believe he meant...maybe (perhaps (perhaps)) he meant how closely knitted he was with Isabel and *maybe* petra?

and thank you to all the contribution you have made to us levussy worshippers 🫡

and by the way! I love your account!<3

hiii :D that’s so sweet😭😭😭🫶thank u for reading :’)) i’m also happy to answer this lol.

i’ll start with that dialogue!

the “popular with women” bit of dialogue isn’t quite translated correctly into english. it’s more like, when it has to do with men and women, the implication Zeke makes is romantic. the limits of the language - and probably whoever's in charge of PR - default romance to men and women. women isn't the literal term in the japanese dialogue.

but the question is attraction and not general popularity.

while you could argue that the implications of the conversation matter the most - so Levi (self-proclaimed) was popular in the romance scene - you must also consider that Levi had to say he was popular enough, or else he would be proving Zeke’s accusation right in that Levi doesn’t know other people’s feelings.

(although, he is popular to people behind the walls, but i’m getting off topic.)

proof of all that bc my summary is bad🫶

if Levi did seriously answer Zeke in that moment, just knowing Levi and his avoidance of relationships, especially romantic ones as far as is shown in AOT, he would’ve likely answered generally because he could, instead of feeding into Zeke’s attempt to fluster him lol. and of course he could've lied, again, so that Zeke couldn't get the satisfaction of being right or flustering him.

any way you cut it, i don’t think he had anyone in mind.

😅just to get it out of the way for those who don’t know i guess cuz it’s a popular piece of trivia, isayama has never confirmed whether Levi is a virgin.

sex is innately intimate. no matter if you’re just seeking momentary pleasure - which Levi doesn’t seem like the type to do - it’s both intimate and exposing. Levi just wouldn’t engage in casual sex.

especially in the underground and the negative associations he has with sex, mostly as it has to do with pain and suffering - very, very most likely, at least, and supported by what we’ve seen of the bad boy manga so far when some attackers threatened him as a child to make him “do what his mother did”. and Levi would never run the risk for disease.

(also assuming condoms exist.)

like i talked about in that analysis, trauma, in this case being exposed to sex at a young age, doesn’t simply go away, and also it exacerbates other things like distrust and an unwillingness to be vulnerable in romantic relationships.

so if it were to be someone, it would have to be someone Levi has a close bond with and trusts implicitly. someone who’s a Scout, then, but you also have to consider that romance just comes second on principle - at least to Levi whose top priority is always his duty.

his most selfish act after joining, this also being a show of affection, was letting Erwin rest (from his perspective), instead of forcing him back into hell.

so i mean - REALISTICALLY, IMO - for Levi it’s really not as simple as candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach ykwim?? there would be no love confession, only his actions which communicate his devotion or saying “”simple”” terms like “I trust you” or “I need for you not to die on me.”

sorry i’m getting so off topic.

ANYWAY. in my opinion, based on what info is allotted in canon, to me he is a virgin : )

#fanfiction aside #levi ackerman #levi aot #snk levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman aot #snk hc #levi ackerman hc #aot meta

29 notes · View notes

astronicht · 19 days

Note

fanfic writers directors cut: in the pines , not sure I'm doing this correctly lol 🫣 can you talk about what you envision to happen next? If I remember correctly, there was a large chapter you broke up. I love this fic so much and reread it ever so often. I'd love to hear all your brain worms about it !! ty for reading and enjoy your day off 🩵🤍

"there was a larger chapter you broke up" would you believe I forgot that this was true. Anyway, Pines is very special to me, and may never actually get its final chapter for slightly hilarious reasons. But hey, you reminded me that there was a spare 10k of Pines hanging around! So like, I read through it last night and I have done one (1) entire editing pass. But I figured, you know! Why not!

Anyway, here's the next chapter of Pines (anyone curious what I'm talking about can read the first two chapters on ao3). I hope it brings you joy <3 Thank you for loving this fic

(nsfw below cut)

The next evening, Jiang Yanli drops off Jin Zixuan, who is dressed in comfortable pink sweatpants and a button-down white shirt and looks a little dazed.

“Are you alright?” Lan Zhan asks, letting him into the house through the garage. Maybe they should just watch baseball.

“Yeah,” says Zixuan. “It is. Loud. Over there right now.”

Lan Zhan has met Jiang Yanli’s brother once; he did not seem especially loud. He did not realize until this week that Zixuan lives part time at Jiang Yanli’s, but it makes sense. He remembers the big house, Zixuan’s choice of a small guest room. “Hm,” he says, and gets Jin Zixuan a glass of water. “Drink that.”

Jin Zixuan sits at the little square two-person dining table in the family room — the cozy room open to the kitchen, with the sliding glass doors to the yard, the birds flitting by the fountain that will need to be scrubbed out this week — and drinks his water. A warm silence falls. Lan Zhan feels good, leaning over the railing that separates the kitchen from the step down to the family room, watching Zixuan with focus. Outside, someone is using their fucking leafblower again. It buzzes through the open windows.

Zixuan finishes his glass. Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan look at each other across the parquet floor of Lan Zhan’s family room, Lan Zhan from a step up and arms crossed on the railing.

“Be gentle with me, bro,” Zixuan says, stretching his socked feet into the patch of sunlight coming in from the door.

“No,” Lan Zhan says.

Zixuan stares at him, wide-eyed — then laughs and gets on his knees in the sun.

They have both, Lan Zhan figures, had something of a very long week.

Wei Ying has a migraine on Thursday, he says. He wants to go straight home from work and sleep — he’s very sorry. Lan Zhan wonders, mouth tight— but then Wei Ying asks if maybe Lan Zhan is free on Fridays at the same time? He doesn’t want to assume, but Wei Ying has every other Friday off, and usually he’ll feel better by the next afternoon, and—

Lan Zhan has every day off. Lan Zhan is not working right now. Not this year.

He says he is free on Friday at three.

Wei Ying doesn’t know to come through the garage like Yanli knew to bring Zixuan. He rings the doorbell, the same way Lan Zhan’s piano students do, but when Lan Zhan opens the door it’s him, there in Lan Zhan’s shady front walk, taking a few polite — or shy — steps back from the door along the path that leads from the corner around the garage, through the rock garden and the knee-high [blue flowers] that have been there for decades, now past blooming and thick with seed pods.

“Hi!” Wei Ying says. Then he lurches to a stop, and starts forward again. Lan Zhan nearly lurches forward out of the doorway himself, trying to keep the momentum of the approach. “Oh shit, I didn’t bring anything,” Wei Ying says, suddenly freezing and staring at Lan Zhan as if Lan Zhan can fix this. It’s funny. It’s funny. Lan Zhan feels something like wanting to laugh in his chest, tight and warm and yellow. “I can double back and get coffee. Fruit. A tiny orchid. Popcorn chicken. Do you like popcorn chicken? There’s a place I walked past, next to the Kumon tutoring—”

“No, thank you,” says Lan Zhan, a shade too softly to be what he is supposed to be. Relief, unexpected and blooming in shaky waves in his chest, is briefly overwhelming him.

“Nothing?” Wei Ying asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. They are near-strangers; Lan Zhan has never seen most of Wei Ying’s expressions. It seems like he wants to be pleasing. Wei Ying does not need to strive to be pleasing. It is not what anyone else would call pleasing, probably, but the attempt is already almost overwhelming. Lan Zhan wants to bundle him somewhere warm. Lan Zhan wants to pinch him, hard, till he can’t stand up straight. “There’s gotta be something, Lan Zhan, c’mon.”

Lan Zhan says, steadying himself on his own front door, “Oreos. Next time, you can bring me oreos.”

Wei Ying lights up a split second before he laughs. “Oreos?” he says.

“Oreos,” Lan Zhan agrees, embarrassed and trying not to show it. “I like them.” He hadn’t been thinking. He had not thought at all.

“A dom who gets compensated in oreos,” Wei Ying says, apparently to Lan Zhan’s maple tree, further in the rock garden, like it’s his partner in a comedy sketch.

Lan Zhan breathes through it: through liking oreos and liking sex and liking things so much when he likes them. Liking, still, the near-stranger talking to his maple tree.

“I will ask you if I want you to bring something. Maybe I will, next time. It is my job to take care of the rest. Does anyone know where you are?”

“Yeah,” says Wei Ying. “My sister. She, uh, knows about the whole scene, it’s cool. I sent her the address but not like, your full name, so.”

“You can text her my full name if you’d like,” Lan Zhan says, standing aside to let him in.

“Nah,” says Wei Ying. “Oh, this is big.”

He means the house, and in some ways it is. Comfortably if not exceptionally big for an American house, but real estate is so expensive here that it is more impressive. That, and the entry opens into the living room, with a two-storey ceiling and pristine white carpet, eminently United States 1980s chic. He wonders if Wei Ying will ask about the house.

Wei Ying just looks at him and laughs a little and says, “I’m feeling kind of — can we start right away, with what you suggested? In whatever order? Does that work for you?”

If it’s just nerves that will be fine. If it’s discomfort, starting too fast could actually overwhelm him. “Alright,” Lan Zhan says, and pads towards the formal dining room, which like the living room is rarely used. Wei Ying takes off his sneakers in the entryway, then trails him slowly, footsteps sinking into the soft cream carpet. It is a lot, to see him on Lan Zhan’s carpet. “We covered most of it over text, but can I confirm we’re on the same page, now that you’re here?”

“Yes,” says Wei Ying, glancing up at Lan Zhan’s chandelier — Lan Zhan’s mother’s old chandelier — which is mid-century modern-ish pieces of straight glass but throws rainbows across the two-story ceiling that slopes with the roof.

“Are you still interested in in-person sexual play?” Lan Zhan asks. There are two versions of what he could do, given Wei Ying’s parameters, both discussed and just now — “in whatever order” indeed. Wei Ying slowly looks down from the chandelier, down and at Lan Zhan, who is standing with his heart in his throat in the formal dining room. They are twenty feet apart.

Wei Ying stares at him. “Yes,” he says.

“We have privacy here,” Lan Zhan says, trying to steady himself. “Stand there, at the base of the stairs.” He’s always liked how the stairs come down in the middle of the formal rooms, an open admission that there are real rooms here, tucked away, where people have lived, live still. “Strip down to your underwear.”

“Ah, you’re actually making me take my clothes off this time, gege?” Wei Ying asks, going for his shirt — a loose button-down today, black again but printed with tiny red flowers. “I’m moving up in the world.”

What Lan Zhan wants is to kiss him. Lan Zhan wants to say, No, wait a bit, I am making dinner. Stay for dinner. I will feed you and then I will wreck you. Please.

He found Wei Ying again, easy as anything. He thought he would never see this person again. The story — that they found each other again after a first meeting — should wrap itself around them, should tether them. But it won’t; Lan Zhan has learned his lessons; Lan Zhan is about to be thirty-one.

Lan Zhan breathes. He can hear the dryer running in the laundry room. He steadies himself, and it’s easy because if he’s unsteady then he will have to stop and tap himself out. He says, “Wei Ying, you asked me to make you come again.”

Wei Ying shivers, full-body. “I don’t usually—” he says, then licks his lips. “What happened, um, what happened the last couple times doesn’t usually happen to me. I honestly don’t uh, I don’t get off easily, or all that often.”

Lan Zhan blinks. He had thought they’d covered this. Most of the scenarios he’d offered didn’t require orgasm, including the ones involving sex.

“That is not a problem,” Lan Zhan says, to make it very clear. “I want to see you. I want to see your soft cock.”

“Hggh,” Wei Ying breathes.

“Do you disagree?” asks Lan Zhan, leaning on the wall that divides the kitchen and the family room behind it from the rest of the house.

“Um. Might not be entirely soft, if that’s okay.”

“You cannot wait for me?” Lan Zhan asks, severe. Now that he has thought of seeing Wei Ying soft, maybe small, he wants it. He never saw anything at the party, just Wei Ying’s squirming hips. He has, he supposes, photographs.

“It’s just a little,” Wei Ying whines.

“I want to see you soft. Get on my dining table,” Lan Zhan says. “And take off your underwear.”

“O-okay,” Wei Ying says, padding across the carpet and then stopping to quickly take off his black briefs. He stops by the conversation pit, which largely stores a collection of paperback novels that belonged to Lan Zhan’s mother. “Hey, is that an orgy pit?”

“It is a conversation pit,” says Lan Zhan, who does not exactly mind speaking about his mother’s house during sex, but acknowledges that most people would prefer not to. “Get up and kneel on the table, and try to stay soft.”

Wei Ying sucks in a breath. His toes flex in Lan Zhan’s soft cream carpet. The sudden exposure, the nudity, the dining table, might actually shock him into staying soft. Or get him there; Lan Zhan will find out.

The dining table is an oval that seats eight people. It creaks a little, making Wei Ying flush as he climbs onto it, naked, his nipples tight and his dick and balls swinging between his legs. He is mostly soft, but Lan Zhan thinks he can detect something of a chub. It is medium sized but cute. Lan Zhan wants it, small and soft, in his mouth. Lan Zhan loves sucking cock.

Lan Zhan is kind of expecting Wei Ying to say something about the dining table, about the other-the-top exhibition of himself on it. Instead Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan’s eyes, licks his lips, and says, intimate as if they’re just murmuring together in Lan Zhan’s bed upstairs, “Do you think my cock looks small?” His eyes gleam. His face is solemn.

It is, honestly, average for a soft cock. It is curved prettily in the crease of Wei Ying’s bare thigh, because he is not kneeling properly. His ass is on Lan Zhan’s unused dining table. The tips of his hair look wet against his shirt, from the shower he would have taken before this. In the dry air here, he must have been in the shower very recently; fifteen minutes. Did he say he walked here?

Lan Zhan, fortunately, has always been able to concentrate with a cock in front of him.

Lan Zhan says, “Does it look small? Perhaps.” Wei Ying shudders.

Alright.

“Sit properly,” Lan Zhan says. “Kneel like I asked.”

“You can’t make me kneel on this,” Wei Ying says, shifting knee to knee, “there’s not even a tablecloth! Think of my knees, Lan Zhan!”

“I am thinking of your knees. Bruise them for me,” says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying barks out a breathless laugh and Lan Zhan almost smiles. The formal rooms feel less stiff. The blinds are closed, but behind them he can see the shifting light of the trees, his and his neighbor’s. They clack in the breeze.

Lan Zhan doesn’t smile, though. Instead he says, “Kneel properly and show me your soft cock.”

“Ah!” Wei Ying says, sitting back hard on his heels, posture for a moment reflexively perfect. Someone taught him to sit straight as a child, and adult Wei Ying has unlearned it. His hands fly up to cover his cock, which twitched hard. Lan Zhan stares at him, waiting. Wei Ying flushes, hands covering his crotch. “It’s a little bit hard now,” he whines to Lan Zhan. He slips into Mandarin for a moment, apparently just because the sajiao won’t be as effective in English. “Wouldn’t you rather see me hard for you, Zhan-zhan?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. He was going to go for the toys right away, but he’s stopped halfway around the table, transfixed. “I want to see you soft. And small.”

Wei Ying whines and shoves his hands down harder on his hidden dick. Lan Zhan wonders wildly why he did not list CBT in his misc enjoyed kinks, even though what he’s doing now cannot hurt that much. There’s obviously— something, there.

“Are you trying?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying bites his lip. “Not--not all that much, haha.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t want your ego bruised when you realize how good I am at staying soft.”

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow. “I hardly think my ego is responsible for your small cock.”

Wei Ying goes bright red. Lan Zhan is, briefly, able to breathe, and move. He takes advantage.

There is a cabinet to the far side of the dining table which is obviously supposed to be for wine. Lan Zhan has a set of wine glasses that hang from it, but no wine in it. He uses it to store the downstairs sex toys.

Lan Zhan pulls out three dildos that interest him in this moment. Then he closes the cabinet and plops the selection of dildos in their neat drawstring bags down on the end of the table closest to the living room. Two of the three are weighted with the motor of a vibe; dropping them makes a noise. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow happily to see Wei Ying jump, just a tiny bit.

“If you can’t kneel, then lie back and spread your legs,” Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying, reaching up to slap him on the thigh — close to his cock but not actually on it. Wei Ying jumps, eyes wide. His cock twitches, too. It is so fucking gratifying to be able to see him this time, fuck. Lan Zhan wants to grind his teeth.

“Your cock is misbehaving,” Lan Zhan informs him. Wei Ying, finally, makes a little whimper like he did at the party, when Lan Zhan barely knew his name.

Greed thick in his mouth, Lan Zhan slaps Wei Ying’s cock.

Wei Ying rocks back, eyes wide, flushing bright patchy red on his face and his chest. He is paler than Lan Zhan; it shows up better on him. He sits back on his butt and spreads his legs like Lan Zhan wants. Behind him the sun is afternoon low and smoke-red through the blinds.

“Oh,” he says.

“You are not staying soft,” Lan Zhan says.

“No,” Wei Ying breathes.

“Then I will have to use you for something else.” Wei Ying nods jerkily, but he looks tense. Maybe too exposed, on the table. Maybe it is not quite right. Lan Zhan picks up a purple dildo, one of the ones with vibrating function. “Give me your hand.”

Wei Ying puts one hand out, his fingers shaking a little. Lan Zhan picks up a bottle of lube and squeezes a little onto Wei Ying’s fingers. Too much, lets it spill. Wei Ying shivers — there, a step in the right direction.

Lan Zhan goes to lean against the wall to the kitchen, arms crossed, watching. Twice Wei Ying has come with Lan Zhan at a distance. Lan Zhan wants — to make this hot for him. To make him feel good. To learn the rest of his rules and which of them he will ask to have broken.

“Fuck yourself,” Lan Zhan says. “Your fingers first, then with whatever I choose for you. I want to see what you can take.”

Wei Ying closes his eyes and arches his back and does it as Lan Zhan directs: one finger, two, stretch it for me, let me see, three. He’s quiet, though. His eyes stay shut. Like he’s reaching for something and can’t quite get it. When he starts on the dildo, his shoulders go tense.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “Wait a moment.”

Wei Ying does, holds still with his eyes shut and a dildo half into him.

Lan Zhan pushes off from the wall, circles around the table until he is behind Wei Ying, until he can place a hand between his shoulderblades and only relax when Wei Ying’s shoulders go down, and Wei Ying himself relaxes and leans into the touch. Lan Zhan moves a chair out of the way so he can stand right next to the table behind Wei Ying, so that his chest is against Wei Ying’s back.

“Wei Ying,” he says, softly because his mouth is right by Wei Ying’s ear. He puts his hungry hands on Wei Ying’s ribs, feels his quick breaths. Not too quick; he’s only uncomfortable, Lan Zhan thinks. Too exposed, or too untouched. Something. Everyone has their snags, everyone. Lan Zhan feels full of them, himself. Normally he would be hitting one right now, feeling upset to have not gotten it right the first time, but he’s distracted by Wei Ying’s warmth against his chest. He feels, strangely, like he can get things wrong here, without fucking up.

Lan Zhan makes a little enquiring noise, and is about to follow it up with Too much? but Wei Ying responds like he asked, anyway.

“Ah, I don’t get why this is hard,” says Wei Ying, laughing a little, shoulders tensing and relaxing again. He tugs the dildo back out without Lan Zhan having to tell him. Lan Zhan puts a hand almost over Wei Ying’s on the dildo and taps it in rhythm, like piano keys. Wei Ying huffs a little almost-laugh and tries to imitate him. He clearly does not play piano. “This is so — texting you was so self-indulgent, you know? I’m pretty sure indulgence is supposed to come easily.”

Lan Zhan pauses. “I think indulgence is very hard,” he says, too honest into Wei Ying’s soft hair.

“Nahhh, hell, that’s too serious an answer, gege,” says Wei Ying, wry smile back, over his shoulder and so close to Lan Zhan’s cheek that he could bite it. He is so naked. Lan Zhan could have unwrapped him slowly, but he rushed. He wanted to rush. “Lan Zhan,” he adds, licking his lips. It is the first time he has said Lan Zhan’s name aloud. He does it naked on Lan Zhan’s formal dining table, with his head resting back on Land Zhan’s shoulder and Lan Zhan’s dildo held loose in his hand, under Lan Zhan’s hand. “Lan Zhan, give me a more fun answer.”

“Alright,” says Lan Zhan. He hums and reaches down, slowly enough to know if Wei Ying will tense again, to play with the stretch of Wei Ying’s rim around the toy. “Indulgence will be extremely easy. I will make it so.” He adds, dry, “Miraculously.”

Wei Ying huffs a laugh but his hands spasm on his stomach. His dick twitches at the same time. But his fingers still dart around, searching.

Lan Zhan will not leave him searching. “I haven’t done right by you,” he murmurs into Wei Ying’s ear. Wei Ying squirms, in a good way this time. “I left you out in the dining room. You must be cold. Come entertain me while I— while I cook.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, voice already softer, brighter. Oh, perhaps indulgence will be easy after all. Lan Zhan cups his chin and he looks even warmer. So happy at the idea, which is such a simple one.

Lan Zhan will fucking improvise for three hours if that’s what it takes to get this right.

They go together into the kitchen. The house is brighter here, smaller, the ceilings a normal height. Land Zhan idly closes the blinds while Wei Ying laughs and pretends to wave to the joggers on the footpath, who cannot see into the house easily. Probably.

Inside the kitchen door is a hook that holds a calendar and two aprons and a fly-swatter and what looks like a New Years decoration he never took down. He takes down both aprons. One goes over the counters, which will just have to be bleached again a little ahead of schedule.

“Bend over the counter,” Lan Zhan says. The apron is arranged so Wei Ying is not hitting his dick on the cupboards. He opens the fridge. Out of the corner of his eye, Wei Ying cups his dick warily. Even with the apron he’ll have to hold his hips a little away from the lip of the tile.

“Go,” Lan Zhan says, closing the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

Just regular hungry. Feeding kink wasn’t listed. Lan Zhan wonders if he can ask for that, and then remembers that that is not what this arrangement is about. He breathes.

Wei Ying is taking his time. Lan Zhan plants a hand along his spine and presses slowly but sternly down. Wei Ying yelps. He tucks his face to the side easily enough though. He nuzzles the cool tile of Lan Zhan’s counters.

His eyes crack open. “I still— something in me.”

Asking over text was probably easier. Lan Zhan remembers, feverish, how much he had wanted to be full.

Lan Zhan thinks first of a finger, or something. He thinks of Wei Ying losing steam on the dining table with the very reasonably sized purple dildo.

He thinks about how things that should be easy are so hard.

“A pear?” Lan Zhan says, mild, putting a little bowl of cut pear in front of Wei Ying. It was what was already in the fridge.

“Lan Zhan—”

Lan Zhan pinches his thigh, finally. Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan was going to let go but does not yet, waits. Wei Ying’s forehead comes to rest on the tile. His hips are shifting and he’s having to force himself not to grind into the hard cupboards behind the thin layer of apron.

“Eat one slice of pear.” Lan Zhan lets go of his thigh. Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan nudges the bowl a little closer to Wei Ying’s face and takes a few steps back out into the formal dining room. He ignores the dildos on the table and the little puddle of lube and goes into the wine cabinet.

Back in the kitchen, Wei Ying has one slice of pear gripped in his teeth. He has bitten it right out of the bowl. Lan Zhan leans around him and taps the end of the pear slice sticking out of Wei Ying’s mouth.

“In,” he says. Wei Ying looks up at him. Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow and pushes a little on the pear slice. Wei Ying sucks it in in one gulp. “Don’t choke,” Lan Zhan says, amused. Wei Ying chews noisily at him.

Lan Zhan waits till he’s swallowed before putting the new dildo on the counter next to the fruit bowl. In case he really does choke.

Wei Ying just stares, maybe hypnotized, at the largest, pinkest dildo Lan Zhan owns. It is swaying gently where Lan Zhan placed it upright, balanced on its gargantuan fake pink balls.

The thing about this ridiculous dildo is that it’s really too big and too flexible to be good for fucking, if you can get it in; it’s quite squishy, and Lan Zhan uses it sometimes for people who get off by letting him slap them in the face with it.

“You’ve had a snack. Before I start cooking I need two things: I want to watch you show me how bad you are at fucking yourself, and then I need to fetch something from the laundry room. Try to put this in yourself.” Whether or not he can get it in doesn’t matter. Lan Zhan just wants to see him try.

Lan Zhan lays the second apron on the floor, to catch lube drips. Wei Ying steps on it as Lan Zhan leans down and lifts each of his feet delicately to push the apron under him.

“How far— ah— how far is the laundry room?” Wei Ying asks. His dick is filling rapidly; Lan Zhan can see this clearly when he is crouched at Wei Ying’s feet. He shivers.

Lan Zhan stands up and picks up the bowl of pears in one hand and twists his other hand in Wei Ying’s hair, pulling it into a single twist that Lan Zhan can grip at the back of Wei Ying’s skull. He doesn’t pull very hard, just lets the pressure speak for him.

“I will show you,” Lan Zhan says drily. “Do you need help putting it in?”

“N-no,” Wei Ying says. He’s mouth-breathing.

“Do it with me right here, I want to see it. If you get it in, you can come with me to the laundry room.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying breathes, even though the laundry room hardly sounds like a treat, and scoots his feet and the apron back on the linoleum so he can bend over further, just his hands braced on the counter. His hands scramble on the big pink dildo, and instead of putting it down to open and pour lube into his hand he holds it between his knees. Lan Zhan’s breath catches. He wants to— to bite him. Make him drop it. Make him pick it up, complaining.

The thing about things that are easy is that sometimes this makes them impossible. The thing about things that are impossible is that they are easier. Wei Ying did not like the shallow end of the pool.

Wei Ying pants and lubes the dildo and fingers himself a little. It’s already easier than anything on the dining table. The room smells like pears and silicon. The blinds clack.

Wei Ying leans down even further and twists his hips to open them up a bit. “Are you watching?” he breathes, and nudges the giant pink dildo against his hole, letting it skid away. Again, twice. “Don’t you want to make me do it right?”

“Do it right,” Lan Zhan says, from deep in his chest, not thinking. He’s begging; he’s ordering.

“There’s no way I can,” Wei Ying says. “You know I can’t.” His hands become clever again instead of clumsy. Lan Zhan’s brain has not restarted. He is just there, in his kitchen, watching Wei Ying work the tip into himself, sighing — no, breathing out to make himself relax further.

“Oh no,” Wei Ying pants. “It’s actually going in, Lan Zhan— you said I wouldn’t be able to get it in.” It is, it really is. The easy option was impossible; the giant pink face-slapping dildo is forcing his ass open, slow. Lan Zhan watches his ass stretch around its widest girth, then try to pinch closed on a smaller part of the toy, but it’s all thick shaft.

“You are going to walk with it in you to the laundry room with me,” Lan Zhan says, his teeth buzzing, his cock hard in his trousers. “You will want to push it further in,” he adds.

“Shit! Shit, nng,” Wei Ying says. “There’s so much of it, though. Even if it slips a little, I’ve got like five inches in me.”

Not a bad estimate. The thrust depth, minus the flared base with its big pink faux balls, is [eight] inches [check the specs on Outlaw]. “Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “And you will need more.”

Wei Ying twists his head to stare back at Lan Zhan as he pushes the dildo in, deeper. His legs shake once, hard, but he does not stop. His eyelashes flutter; he does not break eye contact with Lan Zhan for a long moment. Then he lets out a big shuddering sigh, his body surrendering to its new situation. His belly gets softer when he relaxes. They do not know each other well enough for Lan Zhan to palm it affectionately, but he likes it very much. Wei Ying says, on the end of his sigh,“Ahh, why do you even have something this big, gege? People buy this shit to--to leave out to impress their hookup or whatever, not to use.”

They’ve been speaking almost entirely English since Wei Ying arrived; to say this he has switched to Mandarin. Lan Zhan did not actually know the slang for hookup until just now. Last time — when they met, in the roses — it was playful, pressing. In retrospect it had not been a test Lan Zhan would have failed by speaking his father’s language badly, but just Wei Ying on the offensive, figuring a new puzzle out. This is not like that. He does not know what this is like. With his father and his uncle he spoke Mandarin at home; with his mother he spoke only English, even when she could not think of a word. She would make them up, sometimes. A whole secret language: words for microwave and for dish towel and for pasta strainers.

Lan Zhan wrenches himself out of the past. He loves to live in his mother’s house, but he does not want Wei Ying to ask why he went distant.

Also, the pink dildo is as close as silicon-balls-deep in Wei Ying now as it is ever reasonably going to get. Wei Ying pants and shifts around it, arching back. Lan Zhan steps close and says, “Good boy. Take my arm.”

One of Wei Ying’s hands paws gracelessly at Lan Zhan’s forearm. Lan Zhan catches his hand in his own, and helps him straighten up like he is a precious thing. Wei Ying groans and sways and doesn’t get entirely upright, the long heft of the dildo inside of him, its big pink balls brushing his thighs. He has to put a hand on it the first time but then he is able to keep it slipping out, lips pursed in concentration.

“Go on,” Lan Zhan whispers, mouth thick with longing. He lets Wei Ying keep his grip on Lan Zhan’s forearm, like a gentleman leading someone through a room, only Wei Ying is naked and starting to sweat and has Lan Zhan’s biggest squishy pink dildo up his ass. Wei Ying’s grip is light. Lan Zhan wonders if this will be too easy. Wei Ying takes a step and — ah, this will not be too easy. A stumble, and the noise he makes — Lan Zhan won’t find it easy, either.

Wei Ying manages two and a half stumbling steps before he is doubling over, gasping, and clinging on to Lan Zhan’s arm to stay upright. If Lan Zhan were not supporting him, perhaps he would have tried to go farther, perhaps he would have gotten through the doorway to the kitchen before he collapsed on the linoleum, unable to walk. Lan Zhan would like to work him up to that. Lan Zhan wants Wei Ying to be so overwhelmed that he falls to the floor and feels wanted and wanted and wanted all the way down, even with his face pressed to linoleum, even with his ass in the air, straining to take the dildo. He should still feel Lan Zhan’s desire pouring over him.

As it is, this is so good. Wei Ying is breathing fast, is looking daunted but not lost. He knows what he needs to do; he knows Lan Zhan will not ignore him.

“Oh,” Wei Ying gasps, “Fuck, this is impossible, Zhan’er.”

“You are only trying to walk to the laundry room, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying makes a little high noise and takes another shaky step.

“It’s so big,” Wei Ying gasps out. “Fuck, I can feel it. I can’t even walk right, gege, are you seeing — hnng — are you seeing this.”

“You have made it to the steps,” Lan Zhan says, dryly congratulatory.

“Fuck!” Wei Ying says, so high and sharp that Lan Zhan wonders if they have hit a tipping point, but no, Wei Ying takes another step. He is shaking. Lan Zhan is shaking too from how much he wants him, how much he likes this.

“God, you have to help me,” Wei Ying whines. Fuck, he’s getting so worked up from this. It’s like Lan Zhan finally found the right little angle and he’s opening up beautifully, so good Lan Zhan can’t even look directly at him all at once. Lan Zhan tries not to pant, too. He breathes through his nose. He looks over his shoulder at Wei Ying’s ass, where Wei Ying is still half bent-over as he tries to stumble forwards. The dildo has slipped out maybe a centimeter; it’s big fake balls are prodding Wei Ying’s thighs as he walks. Wei Ying’s other hand is slung around his lower belly as he shuffles his way across the kitchen, face flushed, his little brown nipples hard. He notices Lan Zhan looking and moans, loud.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck. I can feel it in me. It’s slipping just a little. Lan Zhan, help me get there.”

Lan Zhan goes to take his arm again. Wei Ying moans and must accidentally clench; the dildo slips out another centimeter. They are on the two steps down to the den. The laundry room is only six feet away, really. The washer and dryer are in the linen closet in the hall off the den.

“It is slipping,” says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying whines and clamps his hand harder around Lan Zhan’s forearm, leans more heavily. He’s stopped, eyeing the steps.

“Lan Zhan,” he pants, forehead against Lan Zhan’s bicep. “Can I please — can I push it back in?”

Lan Zhan thinks about it. If Wei Ying had asked Lan Zhan to push the dildo back in for him, Lan Zhan had been half-thinking that he would make Wei Ying do it to himself. But Wei Ying asked to do it himself; maybe a bargain to be able to get away with it.

“No,” says Lan Zhan. “I will do it.”

Wei Ying shivers, and — spreads his legs a little. As if to give Lan Zhan access.

Lan Zhan wants to grab the dildo by its ridiculous pink balls and shove it hard into Wei Ying, hard enough to make him stumble, hard enough that it would hurt, a little. And keep it there, grinding it in, until they hit a real tipping point. Maybe if Wei Ying were more carefully stretched.

Instead he says, “On your knees.” Wei Ying jolts, surprised. The dildo slips another centimeter, and now the weight of the flared base and the shorter length inside Wei Ying must make it tip up and press, hard, against Wei Ying. Maybe not his prostate exactly, too deep and too big, but good enough. He cries out and Lan Zhan has to press his shoulder down to keep him focused, to send him to the floor at Lan Zhan’s feet.

Wei Ying kneels, hands twitching like he wants to reach back. “On your forearms too,” says Lan Zhan. They are on the parquet floor, where Zixuan kneeled earlier this week. This is very different. Lan Zhan’s heartbeat is thudding in his jaw, his hands.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispers, and then he’s done it: positioned himself on Lan Zhan’s clean wood floors on his forearms and knees, ass in the air with a big pink dildo waving ridiculously from it. Lan Zhan kneels down too, quickly, not giving Wei Ying a chance to feel anything but nicely crowded. He touches Wei Ying’s thigh first. Wei Ying whines and sways into it until Lan Zhan snaps, “Stay still,” and grabs his hip. He shivers and tries to move again. Lan Zhan takes hold of the end of the dildo, lube-sticky, with his other hand and presses it in a centimeter.

Wei Ying stops trying to move and starts trying to gasp. His face is turned towards Lan Zhan, his eyes dark and desperate and intent, the way Lan Zhan feels dark and desperate and intent. It was only a centimeter. He’s so desperate for it. Who has been fucking him so poorly that he is still so desperate for it?

“I’m putting it back in, now,” Lan Zhan says. The rest goes slowly, slowly. He presses it deep into Wei Ying, and this time gets to feel the press and give of Wei Ying’s body around it.

“Stand up,” he says, once he’s finished, trying not to look like he feels like he just had a religious experience. Wei Ying trembles and shakes his head. Lan Zhan blinks, hard, tries to clear his thoughts, unclench his jaw. Before he can do anything else, Wei Ying makes to stand. Lan Zhan helps him up, one arm hauling him to his feet, the other with two fingers on the dildo’s base. A little mercy, to keep it in tight and deep while Wei Ying straightens.

Wei Ying moans, slumps against Lan Zhan. But he’s the one who takes the first step forward. Lan Zhan does not want to make him lead. He takes two swift steps and pulls Wei Ying along in his wake, huddling naked and so hard against his side.

“Hurry,” Wei Ying whispers. “Hurry, I can’t keep it in.”

They’re crossing the corner of the den towards the hall to the downstairs bathroom. Lan Zhan, obligingly, hustles him faster. Wei Ying whines, shuffles across the sun-warm parquet flooring. The den faces full west, but Lan Zhan has closed the blinds on the sliding glass doors. Everything is dull warm with flashes of bright white sunlight sneaking through.

They make it into the laundry room hallway. Wei Ying is gasping. The dildo has stayed in, but Wei Ying’s own cock is swaying, now, jutting out hard and wet and lewd in front of him. With his free hand, Lan Zhan pulls open the closet doors that hide the laundry.

“Oh thank god,” Wei Ying whispers. “Will you fuck me with it for real, now? Don’t you want to? I’ll get on the floor again, Lan Zhan, I’ll—”

“Good job,” Lan Zhan says, shaky, against Wei Ying’s temple, because it bears saying. Wei Ying shuts up for a moment when he hears it. There is just fast breathing, a body moving against Lan Zhan’s. “Turn and put your hands on the wall.”

There is an obvious pause where Wei Ying decides to push. He says, “Don’t you wanna—” and Lan Zhan gratefully takes the opening to grab his wrists and push them against the wall. He lets himself squeeze, once. He lets himself make it hard, lets himself use the strength that lives in his fingers, in his hands. Wei Ying just cries out, cock jumping. The dildo slips but Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying go to catch it, and doesn’t hesitate to grind it back in. Wei Ying, hands braced high on the wall, says, “Ahh--ahh.”

Greed sits buzzing in Lan Zhan’s teeth.

Lan Zhan says, “I am going to take the dildo out, on the count of three.” Then he says, “One,” and fucks the dildo up into Wei Ying sharply. Wei Ying jumps, moans. “Two,” says Lan Zhan, doing it again. “Three,” and a final time, and Wei Ying’s knees shake. He eases the dildo all the way out this time, careful around Wei Ying’s fluttering rim.

“Good job,” he says again. “Good boy, good boy. Turn around.”

Wei Ying moans and does it, eyes glazed. Lan Zhan places the dildo, balanced neatly on its balls, on the closed lid of the washer. He purses his lips and — lifting people is about using your legs and otherwise not overthinking it — lifts Wei Ying with Lan Zhan’s arms around his upper thighs and deposits him on top of the rumbling dryer.

“Sit there,” he says. Wei Ying blinks at him, hands braced on the edge of the dryer.

“Um,” says Wei Ying. He coughs. Maybe his mouth is dry; they will get water. “I’m getting lube all over your dryer?”

“I want lube all over my dryer,” Lan Zhan tells him desperately. He has rarely meant a thing more.

Wei Ying looks at him, wide-eyed. “Spread your legs,” Lan Zhan tells him, only a little because he needs him to. He is greedy for it. Wei Ying shudders and does so, his cock bobbing, his balls softly trembling with the movement of the dryer. Lan Zhan bites his own lip savagely. He takes one of Wei Ying’s ankles and moves it further to the side. Then he crouches down and — as Wei Ying’s eyes flutter shut — pops open the dryer door.

“Hywah?” Wei Ying says. “You’re— you’re gonna do laundry while I’m here, um. Here spreading my legs for you?” His voice peters off weakly at the end of the sentence. His face is even more flushed.

“No,” Lan Zhan says, pulling his softest bathrobe out of the dryer, warm and soft. He closes the door again and the dryer rumbles back to life. “You are going to help me cook.” The bathrobe is white, fluffy, with something faux-fur-ish going on around the cuffs and collars. It came from some resort stay, somewhere, Lan Zhan does not remember. A family vacation.

Lan Zhan lifts him off the dryer and sets him down on his feet, wraps the dryer-hot robe tight around him, does up the belt. Lan Zhan puts a hand on his back and says, “Alright, now you will entertain me while I cook.”

Wei Ying shivers, but he is not cold, this time. They walk back to the kitchen, quickly this time. Lan Zhan could make Wei Ying crawl but he wants to crowd him, wants Wei Ying to feel crowded, manhandled. Wants to be the one to do it. The hand on Wei Ying’s waist goes to Wei Ying’s hair. It’s back in a ponytail, a tiny one. Cute, but Lan Zhan takes it down, lets it brush Wei Ying’s shoulders. Wei Ying makes a little noise, then pants when Lan Zhan makes a fist in Wei Ying’s hair, tugging him a long a little. He nearly trips on the step up to the kitchen. Lan Zhan grabs his arms, move them behind his back. Wei Ying tests his grip right away when Lan Zhan gets both wrists in one hand. Lan Zhan squeezes, hard.

There they are in the warm kitchen sunlight again. Lan Zhan says, “Kneel here,” and pulls Wei Ying down by the wrists even as Wei Ying goes. Wei Ying’s thighs are splayed wide where he kneels, his hard cock jutting up wet and obscene from the parting of the bathrobe. Wei Ying looks down at it, flushing.

“Needy,” Lan Zhan says, letting go of Wei Ying’s wrists and petting Wei Ying’s hair. He presses two fingers against Wei Ying’s lips. “Suck, needy boy.” Wei Ying moans and does it, his bare cock jerking. A bead of precome forms at the tip and slides down. Lan Zhan fucks his fingers in harder, harder. He can feel the wanting in his own throat. Wei Ying just moans more, takes it. He does not need softness here, just a certain kind of roughness, a certain kind. Lan Zhan puts his other hand in Wei Ying’s hair again, tugs, and says, “That’s enough. Wait here, I will be right back.”

Wei Ying nods, serene there on the floor, eyes glazed. Spit is on his chin.

“Hands behind you,” Lan Zhan tells him. Wei Ying does it, squirming.

Lan Zhan does try to be quick; it’s barely a few steps to the dining room to grab the first dildo Wei Ying had tried, the more normally sized purple one, not quite so phallic but armed with a very sturdy suction cup, and a pair of light leather cuffs from the wine cabinet.

He puts both in one of the discarded drawstring bags still on the dining table, and goes back into the kitchen.

Wei Ying is touching his dick, just rubbing the tip, thumbing the slit. Eyes open, looking at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow and does not hurry, steps up to and then past Wei Ying to place the bag on the counter.

“Brat,” he says, and sinks a hand in Wei Ying’s hair, tugs him forwards so Wei Ying has to take his hand off his dick to catch himself to keep from faceplanting into the linoleum. Wei Ying nervous-laughs and moans on the same breath; both a noise of release. He’s on his hands and knees on Lan Zhan’s kitchen floor, in Lan Zhan’s warm bathrobe. Lan Zhan flips up the skirt of the bathrobe. Wei Ying’s ass is still smeared with lube, his hole still wet and a little looser. Nothing looks hurt; his asshole is flushed dark and Lan Zhan should check if he has any little tears. After

Wei Ying had said what we talked about and in whatever order. So Lan Zhan finally, finally smacks him — hard across the ass. His own cock throbs harder than his hand when he makes contact. Fuck, fuck, he likes this so much. He gives himself two more, gives Wei Ying two more. He flips the bathrobe back down as Wei Ying gasps and shakes.

“Oh god,” he’s whispering, high pitched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, it stings.”

“It’s supposed to,” Lan Zhan breathes. His own hand stings, he knows it stings. He thinks of Wei Ying over the phone, tugging on his balls. “Kneel back down. Hands out in front of you.”

Wei Ying does it, squirming as his ass hits his heels. It was not much; it was only a sting. Watching him revel in it, squirm towards it and away from it, is so much though, so much. Lan Zhan takes his wrists and quickly straps on the cuffs. They are not his bulkiest pair; the bedroom is better set up for that, but he likes the leather, likes them well enough. He tightens them, closes the quick-release snaps. Instead of hooking the metal clasps onto the little o-ring, Lan Zhan uses the strap attachment, a tough cord also covered in leather. He clips it to each o-ring on each wrist. Wei Ying can hold his hands about six inches apart. Lan Zhan can grab the strap between, which he does. Twists it around his wrist and drags Wei Ying with him as he reaches for the drawstring bag again, for the next thing.

He pulls out the purple dildo and holds it to Wei Ying’s face, his lips. “Suck,” he says. Wei Ying scowls up at him and Lan Zhan does what he’s been asked to do, takes Wei Ying’s jaw and presses hard on the hinge of it till Wei Ying gasps and flinches and his mouth falls open. Lan Zhan fucks the dildo in and Wei Ying sucks it, greedy now that he’s had a chance to resist, greedy now that he’s been forced to do it. Saliva drips down his chin again. Lan Zhan pulls it out, swift. Wei Ying moans and chases the dildo and Lan Zhan smacks his cheek with it lightly, a warning. Wei Ying’s eyes flutter and he moans, swaying. Ah.

Lan Zhan lowers the strap of the cuffs and then lets go, lets Wei Ying get back on his knees and forearms.

Lan Zhan plants the suction cup of the purple dildo on the cabinet door. He said Wei Ying could entertain him while he cooks; it doesn’t have to be so literal but still, he likes the idea. He’s trying to think of something to do for dinner that does not involve chopping too many vegetables. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. He likes the game but does not care about food just now.

Wei Ying is wrapped in the warm bathrobe, eyes hooded, mouth parted. Lan Zhan can see his tongue. Lan Zhan flips up the skirt of of the bathrobe again, palms Wei Ying’s ass. Wei Ying flinches away from it, flinches into it.

Lan Zhan kneels next him, tests the grip of the dildo. It holds nicely. He puts his hand in Wei Ying’s hair and tugs him backwards, makes him shuffle back on knees and his forearms, wrists still cuffed right where he can see them.

The dildo rubs up against Wei Ying’s ass, obscene. Wei Ying jolts. He probably guessed what Lan Zhan was doing behind him but he has not been able to see the dildo. He twists around to look now, wide-eyed, shock-mouthed. Lan Zhan dribbles more lube on Wei Ying’s hole but leaves the dildo wet with only Wei Ying’s spit.

“Aren’t you glad you drooled all over it?” Lan Zhan asks him.

Wei Ying’s head drops down between his shoulders and he shudders. Lan Zhan scoots his robe up a little bit more, so Lan Zhan can clearly see his dick. Hard, wet. Lube has dribbled down from his ass to drip along his balls. Soon it might drip down the shaft of his dick.

“Here you go,” Lan Zhan says, teasing the tip of the dildo against Wei Ying’s hole. “To keep you full while I cook, baby.”

Wei Ying shudders again, fists clenching. “Oh fuck,” he breathes, “Oh fuck, please, I need it.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says.

Lan Zhan makes him squirm for a minute, uses the flex of the dildo to brush it hard against Wei Ying’s hole but not let him take it inside. Wei Ying finally gasps and says, in a rush, “I need to be full, I gotta. Just keep me like this in your kitchen, please, please.”

Lan Zhan hums and holds the dildo steady. Wei Ying fucks himself back onto it so hard that he hits Lan Zhan’s fingers. Lan Zhan sits back, in front of Wei Ying. A hand in Wei Ying’s hair, Wei Ying’s glassy eyes meeting his. “Just keep it in you, baby,” Lan Zhan says softly. His hands cup Wei Ying’s face. “Stay still and keep it in you, good boy.”

Wei Ying moans and spreads his knees a little. He’s shaking, he’s sweating. Lan Zhan always hated sweating until he discovered sex, and now he loves it. “Fuck!” he says, loud in Lan Zhan’s big house, in Lan Zhan’s kitchen. “It hurts, it hurts.”

“Are you telling me to pause?” Lan Zhan asks.

“No,” Wei Ying whispers. He looks straight into Lan Zhan’s eyes. “I’m telling you it hurts.” Their gazes hold. Lan Zhan’s world swims. He grips his cock in his trousers for just a second, but Wei Ying sees. Wei Ying’s eyes roll back. He twitches like he wants to fuck onto the dildo, but he stays still. Lan Zhan is breathing open-mouthed too, now.

Lan Zhan’s brain unclouds for a brief, shining moment and he remembers that he is soaking shiitake mushrooms in the soup pan on his stove. They should be ready to take out and trim the stems. There; he’ll use kitchen scissors instead of the cleaver and it will be something approaching passably safe.

He gets up and takes the whole soup pot and places it in his sink, where Wei Ying is on his hands and knees. He reaches down and pets Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying chokes and tries to chase his hand, mouth open. He catches Lan Zhan’s thumb and sucks and Lan Zhan does make a sound, involuntary. His mouth is so soft. He is grinding a little back on the dildo. If he does too much he really will make it hurt too badly; the big dildo was more than enough.

“Stay still,” Lan Zhan says.

Lan Zhan takes the kitchen scissors out of the drying rack, and pulls out a shiitake, and snips the first mushroom stem. They pass a few quiet minutes that way, with Lan Zhan snipping stems and occasionally petting Wei Ying’s hair. The sun is lowering, golden. Less smoke in the air today.

Wei Ying moans and uses the slack in the strap between his wrist cuffs to struggle up from his forearms to brace himself on both hands — on Lan Zhan’s foot, ow — and bury his face in Lan Zhan’s thigh. His little hot mouth is sucking frantically at Lan Zhan’s trouser leg, fabric going damp. Lan Zhan is so turned on he is lightheaded. He puts the scissors down in self-defense. Maybe he can just tear off the last of the mushroom stems. Fuck, fuck.

“I can’t give you my fingers,” Lan Zhan tells him, stern. “I’m cooking. It would be unsanitary.”

He watches as Wei Ying tries to balance between the dildo in his ass, his bound hands braced and Lan Zhan’s foot, and his mouth on Lan Zhan’s trousers. The cabinet door creaks. Wei Ying strains upwards and puts his mouth over the crotch of Lan Zhan’s trousers.

Lan Zhan is not going to survive this.

“Do you—” Wei Ying whispers to Lan Zhan’s hard, hard cock. “Lan Zhan, would you…?”

There is a roaring in Lan Zhan’s ears.

Lan Zhan has condoms in his pocket with no actual intention to use them for this particular scene. He was going to use toys. He was going to fill Wei Ying a dozen little ways. He still will, he promises himself, he still will if Wei Ying wants to do something like this again, but not until —

“Be patient if you want it,” Lan Zhan says. Fuck, his voice is too low, too rough, too affected. Wei Ying just moans, noses at his thigh again, suckles at his dark wash jeans. “I can,” Wei Ying says, “I can, I can be patient, help me be patient Lan Zhan, I— I — I—!”

“Pull off the dildo, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, because he cannot be this unbalanced and risk falling over with it still in him. The suction cup would probably just come off the cabinet, but it could bruise him.

We Ying moans but does it with surprisingly little complaint. Instead he focuses, apparently, on gripping Lan Zhan’s jeans between his teeth even as Lan Zhan unzips his fly, hasty, violent. Lan Zhan wonders if Wei Ying is coming unplanned by both of them but no, it doesn’t seem like it. He would be able to see, anyway. The come would splatter on his kitchen floor. Lan Zhan gasps as he pulls his cock out.

Wei Ying looks up at his cock. “Too big,” Wei Ying murmurs, “Too big, you’ll break me, hahhh, you’ll really—”

It’s ridiculous after the pink dildo situation. It doesn’t matter.

Lan Zhan rolls the condom over his cock, tightens his lips. He has learned to enjoy it, the feeling. It is one of the little rituals to sex, to putting his body in someone else’s. Now it is part of the anticipation. The little extra tightness of it at the base of his hard cock, the way it presses gently at the soft skin of his balls. Lan Zhan buys mostly anal condoms, plain and sturdy. Not perfect for blowjobs, but it will work.

“Open for me,” Lan Zhan whispers. His heart is beating so hard. And then he gently feeds Wei Ying his dick. They shake together, Lan Zhan hissing out a breath between his teeth. “Good,” he grinds out, “Yes, good boy.”

Wei Ying moans, and this time it is around Lan Zhan’s cock. Lan Zhan breathes deeply, focuses on Wei Ying. The dizziness fades. The kitchen settles back around him, existing, warm and familiar. Wei Ying is having a little trouble getting his mouth onto Lan Zhan’s cock and still grinding back on the dildo; Lan Zhan obligingly steps closer, lets him fill himself on Lan Zhan. He can drink and drink; Lan Zhan has oceans of this. Wei Ying moans. Lan Zhan thrusts forward, presses his cock in, presses Wei YIng back against the counters. Wei Ying’s cuffed hands scramble at the hem of Lan Zhan’s trousers. Lan Zhan eases them into something which can be kept up, a slower rhythm.

Still, Wei Ying is panting harshly through his nose. Lan Zhan carefully, carefully frees his hands and cuts a few more stems off mushrooms, very slowly, and watches. Grinds his cock into Wei Ying’s mouth; stops, pulls Wei Ying off to make him breathe gasping breaths and to tell him, “Good job.”

Wei Ying says, hoarse, “Is it good, Lan Zhan, does it feel good, do I feel good?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan bites out, both hands framing Wei Ying’s face, pulling him back to Lan Zhan’s dick, “Yes, you feel good. You feel so good, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying moans and slides off Lan Zhan’s dick with a little pop; Lan Zhan doesn’t immediately force him back, waits to see what he will do. He shuffles closer, stumbles trying to kneel up and brace himself against Lan Zhan’s legs, mouthing at Lan Zhan’s shaft. Lan Zhan grabs the cord between his wrist cuffs and pulls up, both surprising Wei Ying and keeping him upright.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, “I--I—”

Lan Zhan guides his head back to Lan Zhan’s cock. Wei Ying whines and shuffles closer, closer, till he’s plastered up against Lan Zhan’s legs. There — his cock, which he’s rutting desperately against Lan Zhan’s leg. When Lan Zhan gasps and pulls Wei Ying off Lan Zhan’s cock he whispers, “Lan Zhan please, please, oh god. I won’t get in the way, you can keep cooking, I can just. Just.”

“You want to grind on my leg?” Lan Zhan says.

“I’m gonna,” Wei Ying pants, “Oh fuck, I can’t help it I’m gonna come like this on your kitchen floor, I’m gonna.”

“We didn’t plan on you coming,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying tips his head back, whines, humps Lan Zhan’s leg harder.

Lan Zhan holds his head back, pulls off the condom, and slaps Wei Ying’s cheek with his dick. Wei Ying’s eyes roll back; he moans and buries his face in Lan Zhan’s hip, probably right against the zipper of his undone jeans. He’s really going for it now, not trying to be subtle, not trying to be elegant. It is hard to be suave about humping a man’s calf. The bathrobe is untied now, in disarray, and Wei Ying is fucking up hard, faster, grinding his cock against the soft bathrobe and Lan Zhan’s jeans. It probably hurts. He probably likes it.

Fuck, Lan Zhan thinks savagely. Fuck.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, “Lan Zhan I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I— ahh, ahhh!” He breaks off and Lan Zhan thinks perhaps he will try to hold his breath again, but he cannot do that either, it seems. Lan Zhan, in some insane impulse, slips a knuckle of his finger into Wei Ying’s mouth, between his teeth. Wei Ying obligingly bites down on Lan Zhan’s knuckle and screams through a clenched jaw as he comes. It splatters over the bathrobe, the floor. Wei Ying shudders a few times then collapses against Lan Zhan.

He just breathes, hard, and clings. “Wha—” he mumbles. “The fuck.”

Lan Zhan kneels down and quickly unclips the cord between Wei Ying’s cuffs. Wei Ying pants for another moment then sways into Lan Zhan. It’s so different than before; they are touching again. The bathrobe is nearly off one shoulder. Lan Zhan reaches up to fix it, reflexively. Wei Ying puts both hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, cuff strap dangling from his right wrist. He is shaking, flushed, intent. He looks Lan Zhan in the eyes and says, more clearly than he has spoken in half an hour, urgent, “I know we didn’t plan for it for another couple sessions, but Lan Zhan, would you be able to fuck me?”

Something in Lan Zhan surges towards him. Lan Zhan looks down at Wei Ying’s teeth marks in his knuckle. Marks from toys or bodies were on Wei Ying’s good list. So was, in fairness, being fucked.

Lan Zhan, for a moment, cannot talk. He tries and he cannot. He holds up two fingers.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying breathes. “That works, Zhan’er. I can’t — I won’t be able to calm down till you’ve fucked me.” Lan Zhan thinks about Wei Ying alone on the dining table, untouched at the party, alone in his bed texting someone because he wanted so badly to be full.

Words are nearly back, but not quite yet. Lan Zhan hoists Wei Ying up again, onto the white tile, the neatly bleached grout. Wei Ying laughs, shaking from the orgasm he hadn’t really expected or been ready for. Something in Lan Zhan unknots. Wei Ying on the counter is not like Wei Ying on the dining table. Wei Ying is balanced between his sink and his keurig, spreading his legs. Lan Zhan ducks down and presses his face there, breathing between Wei Ying’s thighs. Drags his face up and down them as Wei Ying shakes, kisses his thighs, brushes with his fingers Wei Ying’s hole, his balls, his soft cock. Wei Ying pants, overstimulated. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, tugs almost shyly even with his head thrown back and his own semen all over his stomach and Lan Zhan’s bathrobe. Lan Zhan slicks up two fingers and touches where Wei Ying is ready for him. He wants to laugh; he has big hands but he absolutely started Wei Ying on something hilariously, monstrously bigger. He did not set himself up well for this at all. Yet when he thrusts two fingers in Wei Ying cries out, Wei Ying says, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, finally. Take it, take what you need from me, please, ahh— please!”

And Lan Zhan rocks foreward, fucks Wei Ying on the kitchen counter. The mushrooms are still in the soup pot in the sink, right next to Wei Ying. The sunlight through the smoke is red gold and Wei Ying is bathed in it like he is standing under stained glass, or in a bright room done up in red silk. Lan Zhan’s fingers are in Wei Ying, not his cock, which is tucked messily back into his trousers. He shoves his other hand down them. He is supposed to be giving a piano lesson right now.

But Wei Ying is beginning to cry, and it looks different than a line of text from Wei Ying saying “I might cry”. Lots of people cry, but it hasn’t been like this. Wei Ying isn’t going to come again, but he wants the sex, he wants it. Lan Zhan tugs his own cock with his left hand, so turned on his ears are ringing and his face is numb. Wei Ying is begging for him to come as if it’s Lan Zhan’s dick that’s in him, tears on his cheeks, overwhelmed next to soaking mushrooms, next to the keurig. Lan Zhan thinks perhaps Wei Ying likes it, likes being worked into the fabric of Lan Zhan’s kitchen. There is the paper towel roll, there is the sink, there is Wei Ying getting reamed on two fingers, there is the keurig. Rice cooker, kettle, discarded condom on the floor.

It is something. It is a thought.

Lan Zhan bites his own lip hard as he comes, filled up with it. Wei Ying slams his head back, moaning and soft, and Lan Zhan barely manages to get his hand up in time but he does cup it between Wei Ying and the window, lets Wei Ying smash his head into Lan Zhan’s palm and grind Lan Zhan’s knuckles against the blinds, which may be broken now, Lan Zhan doesn’t know. He’s come and it’s peaking again, a phantom second arc of pleasure through him. Another spurt of come in his hand. He pants, raggedly, into the air above Wei Ying, which is the safest air in the kitchen to breathe.

Wei Ying is whispering, “Yeah, yes, yes,yes—yes,” and he is not going to come again, Lan Zhan does not think, but the crying is something like that. A release for Lan Zhan to work him through. Lan Zhan gently pulls his fingers out with a little goodbye wiggle that makes Wei Ying jump and then take his first good, deep breath. First, Lan Zhan leans over a few inches from Wei Ying and runs the sink. He washes both his hands. One is covered in his own come, the other was bare in Wei Ying’s asshole. He uses dish detergent. Wei Ying mumbles when a little spray catches him. Then, slowly, he takes Wei Ying’s shaking thighs from around his waist and sets them down on the counter, stroking each one. Wei Ying cannot even hold his legs up around Lan Zhan’s waist anymore. He strokes both thighs again, grateful, painfully grateful for all of Wei Ying. Strokes his shivering ribs and his bony, hairy ankles and wraps the bathrobe tighter around his chest. Then, thoughtfully, he tucks his little finger of the Wei-Ying’s-ass hand back into Wei Ying’s ass, just for a bit.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers into Lan Zhan’s shoulder after Lan Zhan presses his face there briefly to massage his neck with his clean hand. “Oh. Oh you like. Took good care of me.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan responds, acknowledging Wei Ying. He feels there is room for improvement. He feels good, though. Warm, tired. Ahead on tomorrow’s dinner prep, hilariously. His kitchen blinds are definitely broken. Wei Ying in his arms like this is distracting, Wei Ying around one finger, still. When Wei Ying shifts, Lan Zhan is the one who makes an involuntary noise. He felt Wei Ying tighten around his pinky.

“Ahh,” Wei Ying says. “Ah, you stayed in me, you even stayed in me?” He sniffles and Lan Zhan smiles at him a little, cannot quite help it. He crooks his finger hello. Wei Ying whimpers about it, big and performative.

“I am going to pull out now,” he warns, as if he’s balls-deep in Wei Ying. Wei Ying nods and sighs, pouting a little. Lan Zhan bites his lip and pulls his pinky out, regretfully. Wei Ying swings a leg a tiny bit, just enough to hit his heel against the cabinet.

“Stop hiding it. Wanna see how much you came,” he mumbles.

“Wei Ying made me come so much,” Lan Zhan says soothingly — honestly, too — as he buttons his jeans over the mess. His blouse has jizz on it, thank god. Wei Ying’s mess, on him. He opens the cabinet below Wei Ying and throws the blowjob condom away in the trashcan that lives below the sink.

“In the kitchen!” Wei Ying slurs above him. “You throw condoms away in your kitchen!”

“It is my house,” Lan Zhan says, straight-faced, heart pounding again just from looking at him. But it is less terrifying; he is floating on it. Wei Ying in his kitchen, well-fucked. Wei Ying just blinking at him, soft eyed and hazy.

It is something. It is.

***

In the back yard there are two deck chairs of dubious comfort, covered in scratchy outdoor cushions.

They are laying together in one, watching the dusk come into the garden under the pepper tree. Walkers go by on the bike path behind the house, mostly hidden from view behind the lemon tree and the hedges and the compost bins.

Lan Zhan is warm from a very, very fast shower, and in boxers and the second-best bathrobe. Wei Ying is in the good bathrobe, still warm from the dryer, somehow. He had not wanted to shower yet.

It seems like when Wei Ying is coming down, he talks. At first Lan Zhan thought (while getting talked at through the shower door) it meant he was resurfacing, but no, he’s still in headspace, just not the quiet kind. The gentle lap of words are good; they help Lan Zhan judge so easily where he is even as Lan Zhan bundles him up in one arm. They are spooning. Wei Ying had grabbed a blanket off the sofa in the den for them.

“Check it out Lan Zhan,” he slurs, twisting his head to look up at the sky between two Italian cypress pines which gently shade the lounge chairs. “It’s still light out but you can already see the moon. And right now Jupiter and Saturn are right next to each other somewhere to the--to the left. They’re really bright right now, have you seen them at night?”

“Maybe,” Lan Zhan says. It doesn’t seem like Wei Ying needs more of a response than that, but Lan Zhan finds himself offering, “There’s a bright star I see from my window when I go to bed, just above the hills.”

“When you go to— oh, no. Silly boy, that’s Mars. Mars rises a lot later.”

Lan Zhan smiles. “Now I know,” he says, solemn.

“If you could like, see Jupiter’s magnetic field….” Wei Ying says.

“Mn?” Lan Zhan prompts.

“Oh. If you could see it, Jupiter would be the size of a quarter in the sky.”

Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying nods back, that bit of wisdom dispensed.

There is a pause. Above them is a dusty evening-blue sky that feels, somehow, higher than skies in the rest of the world. It just feels like that here, in this place. In the Bay, in this neighborhood, where the fire-wind whispers in the pines. Breeze in the trees, pepper tree and lemon and pine. The neighbors who fight all the time are trying to grow roses.

“Are you, um. Lan Zhan, are you hard?”

“Yes,” says Lan Zhan, carefully. “A little.”

“Can I um, feel it? If you’re comfortable with that? I just like — I feel better knowing that you’re — yeah.”

Lan Zhan nods slowly, his nose brushing Wei Ying’s hair. He relaxes his hips, which had tensed when Wei Ying asked, careful to keep his erection away from Wei Ying in case it felt like pressure, or did not help him ease back to the surface.

He doesn’t actually mean to take his cock fully out, just to adjust his boxers and press it against the backs of Wei Ying’s thighs, but he is hard — very hard, not just a little, his body is like this — and when he tugs at fabric his cockhead pops out of the fly of his boxer briefs. Wei Ying makes a happy little sound in his throat, even as Lan Zhan watches in dazed resignation as he pulls back the blanket to see that Wei Ying has rucked up the bathrobe and Lan Zhan’s cock is smearing precome on Wei Ying’s bare thighs.

Wei Ying smiles a little, face tucked against the scratchy cushions, and lifts his top leg under the blanket. Lan Zhan bites the inside of his mouth and breathes. He holds his cock and guides it between Wei Ying’s warm, barely sweaty thighs. Wei Ying relaxes and Lan Zhan allows himself a sharp little exhale, a ghost of a gasp.

He feels, unexpectedly, calmed by it. His cock held tightly between Wei Ying’s legs, safe and welcomed. Lan Zhan says, anyway, “You do not need to be making me hard in order to feel good.”

Wei Ying flaps a hand like — I know, I know.

“It’s nice,” Lan Zhan whispers, laying fully back down.

Wei Ying shifts around until he can squeeze Lan Zhan’s hand. Now the message is urgent instead of flippant, but the same: I know, I know.

***

That night, Lan Zhan cannot sleep.

The moon is full and Mars is so bright above it, overwhelming and obvious, red-tinted and unapologetic. Right where Wei Ying said it would be, right where it has been every night for weeks when Lan Zhan did not have a name for it. Moonlight cuts Lan Zhan’s bed in half at his calves; his feet are in a story, a dreamworld. Sleeping alone long enough makes him forget that he does sleep. There is no proof of it. There is no example of sleep’s existence next to him in bed. Dreams feel like no proof. He wants to see himself sleep. He wants to sleep next to someone who will watch him sleep, who might touch his hair where it sticks sweat damp to his face when he is halfway in between.

***

In an attempt to balance out his life a little, and because she is his friend, Lan Zhan tries something new and has Jiang Yanli over to smoke weed and watch baseball. It goes extremely well. Lan Zhan finally calms down, after the Friday with Wei Ying, who has of course texted, but it’s not— They sit in silence, getting high and making the occasional cutting remark about [baseball thing]. “Do you watch other sports?” Yanli asks.

Lan Zhan glances at her out of the corner of his eye, joint pressed between his lips. He got into smoking weed when he quit smoking cigarettes. People don’t believe that he used to go out to a lot of clubs (where he also smoked), but the wall of noise is a lot easier than the up and down meandering of a bar. A club is honest with you. Also, Lan Zhan liked to fuck, and his brothers friends were all Berkeley law students.

“Some,” Lan Zhan says, voice a little tight with smoke. “I don’t like soccer,” he adds preemptively.

“Hm,” says Yanli. “Hm, give me the remote. Do you know figure skating at all?”

“No,” says Lan Zhan.

“I am going to show you something,” says Yanli, doing violence to Lan Zhan’s smart TV remote. “This shit is wild.”

“Okay,” says Lan Zhan. He is pretty high. Potentially, he thinks ten minutes later, too high to be faced with Yuzuru Hanyu in all his glory, but there it goes.

They watch in silence as Yanli finds a full competition rerun on Youtube. Everything is in Russian, so Lan Zhan does not even have to listen to commentary. Ideal.

“This is good,” he tells Yanli very seriously after an hour. They have moved from men’s singles to ice dance, and Lan Zhan is learning exactly when to make a disparaging face at a badly turned out twizzle. “I like this sport.”

“Good,” Yanli says, taking a solemn drag on the joint as, on the screen, a new kind of combination lift occurs. “What else do you like? You didn’t say.”

Lan Zhan frowns. “Softball,” he says. “Alpine skiing.”

“Do you like… badminton?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just funny,” Yanli explains earnestly. “All the sports you like are completely the opposite of my little brother. He was on the varsity badminton team. He secretly still loves badminton.”

“Your brother is a business major. I am unemployed. We are not the same.”

“Oh, no, not A-Cheng, my other brother. My other one,” Yanli assured him, flapping a casual hand.

“Oh,” says Lan Zhan. “I apologize, I thought there was only one.”

“Nope,” says Yanli. “My two boys.”

She sounds loving, and tired.

“I will work hard at hating badminton,” he promises her solemnly. “I will keep it up my whole life.”

“Thank you, friend,” Yanli says, flinging a leg up on the sofa. “I am going to take a nap. Make the tv show us pairs skating. You’ll like— Sui and Han, Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

She falls asleep. Lan Zhan sits comfortably, legs spread, on his sofa. He watches pairs skating. He cries a little. When Yanli wakes up he says they should go for a walk to look at the bridges over the bay.

“You can see the bay from here?” asks Yanli. She is filling Lan Zhan’s uncle’s Oakland As mug with water, which she says she is bringing with her for the walk.

“Yes,” says Lan Zhan. “It’s better if we walk up the Peak, of course. But we can see them if we walk up and loop on the street above the bike path, up the hill.”

“That’s so funny,” says Yanli. “I live so close by and I never noticed!”

“It is only one place,” says Lan Zhan.

They find outdoor shoes and walk down Lan Zhan’s street, under the whispering pines. They walk up the street where kids like the drag race at night, before the coyotes come out. An old uncle comes past walking a very small dog that wants to sniff Lan Zhan. They walk up to the fancy little neighborhood above Lan Zhan’s fancy little neighborhood. The hills are golden behind them, perfectly golden, like a promise: you do, you really do live here, for better or for worse.

At the crest of a little neighborhood hill they stop on the sidewalk and look down. There it is, a tiny distant glimpse of the Bay, which looks flat and calm from a distance. The haze is settling. The sun has gone down already into the cold green Pacific, the ocean which has for so long held Lan Zhan’s life in it. You cannot see the ocean from here; you cannot see the North Bay or SF, or any famous skyline at all.

The bridges have blinking red lights on them, for planes Lan Zhan guesses, coming into Oakland or SFO.

“Which one is that?” Yanli asks, slurping her water. Her shoulders are relaxed, finally. Lan Zhan’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a sweet promise, but he does not take it out yet.

“I do not know,” says Lan Zhan. “Dumbarton? San Mateo?” He squints as if he will be able to figure it out by looking.

Yanli hums a few bars: Bridge Over Troubled Water. “Like a briiiidge called Saaan Mateo—” she mumble-sings into her mug of water, and laughs, and Lan Zhan dares to hum along for the first time in very many years, since the last time sang with his throat instead of piano wire, here in this place where he can escape nothing. He hums and she makes up the words, makes up the words, and he sings along, low for just a second: Like a bridge called San Mateo, I will lay me down. She breaks into laughter. Lan Zhan feels more solemn than that, but it seems like that is alright.

Lan Zhan takes out his phone, just for a moment before they walk down the hill into the lilac dusk, to take a picture to send.

#my fic #in the pines #ask replies #fic ask replies #anon ask replies #cryinngggg 13k tumblr post will u even work

17 notes · View notes