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imloyaltoscoups · 20 days

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truth or dare | kim mingyu

You and Mingyu are chilling in the living room when he suddenly remarks, "Man, this show is getting kind of boring, don't you think?" You glance over at him, noticing his slight frown as he flicks through the channels with the remote. "Yeah, it's losing its charm," you agree, leaning back into the couch. "Want to switch to something else or do you have any other ideas?" he said.

You shoot Mingyu a mischievous grin, your mind buzzing with an idea, but you hesitate for a moment, debating whether to share it or keep it to yourself. With a playful glint in your eye, you lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "I've got an idea that might just spice things up a bit. But you've got to promise not to laugh..."

Mingyu's eyes light up with curiosity as he leans in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, creating a charged atmosphere between you. "Come on, spill it," he murmurs, his voice low and eager. "Is it something naughty? Knowing you, it's bound to be interesting." He flashes you a playful smirk, his breath warm against your skin, waiting for your response.

You push him away with a light shove, though he chuckles in response, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "Hey now, don't be shy," he teases, his laughter bubbling up.

You roll your eyes, a smirk dancing on your lips. "I just want to play truth or dare to deepen our friendship," you say, trying to sound serious but failing as a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a smirk mirroring yours. "Deepen our friendship, huh?" he mocks, his tone teasing. "Sounds like someone's got some secrets they want to spill."

You and Mingyu have been friends for so long, and there's always been an unspoken understanding between you. You've both felt that special connection, that undeniable fondness, but you've never dared to cross the line into something more. Deep down, you know there's something between you, something beyond friendship, but the fear of ruining what you have has kept you from taking that leap.

You've had countless late-night conversations, stolen glances, and moments that lingered a little too long, but you've always brushed them off, burying your true feelings deep inside. The thought of risking your friendship for a romantic relationship is daunting, and neither of you wants to jeopardize the bond you've built over the years.

So, you continue to keep your feelings to yourselves, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmers beneath the surface whenever you're together. It's a delicate dance, one filled with longing and hesitation, but for now, you're content to cherish the friendship you share, even if it means keeping your love hidden away.

"So, who's going first?" Mingyu asks, breaking the momentary silence with a playful grin.

You return his smile, feeling a surge of warmth despite the lingering tension. "Let's do Rock, Paper, Scissors," you suggest, a hint of excitement in your voice. It's a simple game, but it's enough to ease the tension and bring a sense of familiarity back to the conversation.

As Mingyu lost the round, you couldn't help but cheer in victory, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. "Yes! Looks like you're up first," you say, your voice laced with playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm before responding, "Truth."

You playfully roll your eyes, letting out a mock disappointed sigh. "Boooo, truth? Not fun at all," you tease, poking fun at his choice.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey now, just you wait. I'll go for a dare next, just you wait," he replies, his tone confident and playful, hinting at the fun that's yet to come.

As you think of a question to ask Mingyu, a sudden curiosity crosses your mind. You know he is quite active when it comes to sex, but you've never really discussed the details of his intimate encounters. "So, Gyu," you start, trying to sound casual despite the unexpected question, "how many... um, people have you been with?"

Mingyu's expression shifts from amusement to slight shock at the unexpected question, but he recovers quickly, offering a smile. "Well, let's see," he begins, counting on his fingers before giving you his answer.

You can't help but let out a "Really?" in response, your surprise evident in your tone. It's not that you're judging him, but you never realized just how many partners he had been with. It's a revelation that leaves you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond.

"So, this is the kind of truth or dare you want, huh?" Mingyu mocks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, I don't want the traditional truth or dare. I just want it, hmm, let's say a little bit spicy," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Mingyu smirks, nodding in agreement. "Sure," he replies, his smirk widening. "Truth or dare?"

You don't hesitate. "Dare, for sure," you respond, feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of what he might come up with.

Mingyu's face lights up with mischief as he reveals his dare, and your eyes widen in shock at his bold suggestion. "Wait, Mingyu, that's a bit much, don't you think?" you protest, feeling a rush of nervousness at the thought of carrying out his request.

He chuckles, his smirk growing wider. "Hey, you said you don't want traditional, right?" he mocks playfully. "So come on, don't back down now."

You shoot him a glare, a mix of apprehension and defiance in your expression, but ultimately, you decide to play along. With a sigh, you reluctantly comply, removing your shorts and leaving yourself in just an oversized shirt that barely covers your underwear, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

You quickly grab the nearest pillow to cover your lower half, feeling a bit exposed in your current state. With a slightly defiant look, you turn to him and ask, "Truth or dare?"

Mingyu flashes you a charming smile and opens his mouth to say "truth," but before the word leaves his lips, you throw the pillow at him with a playful yet exasperated huff. He catches it effortlessly, a smirk playing on his lips as he places the pillow back over your lower half.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's change it up. Dare."

You can't help but roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine," you say, contemplating your next move. With a glint of mischief in your eyes, you formulate a not so daring challenge for him, ready to see how far he's willing to go.

"I dare you to remove your shirt," you say with a sly grin, enjoying the turn of events.

Mingyu's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your boldness, but he can't help but chuckle at your cheeky dare. "Is this still truth or dare or strip poker minus the poker?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

With a shrug, he complies, smoothly pulling off his shirt to reveal his well-defined abs. You can't help but feel a rush of frustration mingled with something else as you take in the sight. Sure, you've seen him shirtless countless times before, but this time feels different, more intimate. It's lowkey arousing, and you find yourself momentarily lost for words, the air between you charged with newfound tension.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you contemplate your next move. "Truth or dare?" he asks, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing that if you ask for a dare again, he might take it to another level, and you're not sure you're ready for that. So, with a slight flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, you decide to play it safe. "Truth," you say, opting for the safer option this time.

He nods, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he leans back on the couch thinking what will he ask you, his left arm resting casually on the sofa while he taps it with his fingers, the picture of relaxed confidence. You can feel the wetness forming through your underwear at the sight, a subtle reminder of the tension simmering between you.

Mingyu's question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his boldness. "What do you think about me sexually?" he asks, his tone teasing yet curious. "And have you ever had a wet dream about me?"

Your heart races at the daring nature of his inquiry, and you quickly try to regain your composure. "Hey, one question at a time," you retort, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I can only answer one."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "Well," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "sexually, I think you're... intriguing. There's definitely an attraction there." You pause, feeling a rush of nerves at your confession.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he waits for your answer regarding the wet dream question.

"It's your turn," you tell him, deflecting his question about the wet dream with a playful smile.

Mingyu chuckles at your evasion. "Alright, fair enough," he concedes. "Okay, okay, I'll choose truth since you're playing it safe."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief that he's opting for a more straightforward question this time. But deep down, you can't shake the lingering curiosity about what might have been if he had pressed further.

You take a deep breath, your throat feeling suddenly dry as you muster up the courage to ask the question that's been lingering in your mind. "Have you ever had a wet dream about me?" you inquire, your voice slightly shaky despite your attempt to sound nonchalant.

As you wait for Mingyu's response, you reach for the water on the table, your fingers trembling ever so slightly. His answer comes quicker than you expected, and it almost catches you off guard. "All the time," he replies with a playful grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Your hand freezes mid-air, the cup of water perilously close to tipping over as his words sink in. With a swift motion, you steady the drink, taking a big gulp to hide your surprise. You manage to swallow without spilling a drop, but the shock is evident in your expression.

You meet Mingyu's gaze, trying to play it cool as he smile innocently. However, your mind is racing with a million thoughts, wondering what exactly he means by "all the time."

Feeling a surge of nervous energy, you head to the kitchen to grab some cans of beer, hoping that a little liquid courage will help you navigate the increasingly charged atmosphere between you and him. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, his gaze lingering on your every move, and it only serves to heighten the tension.

Returning to the sofa, you place the cans of beer on the table without a word, and Mingyu doesn't question your sudden choice of beverage. He simply grabs a can, pops it open, and takes a long gulp, the sound of the fizz filling the air.

As he finishes his drink, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze still fixed on you. "Should we continue?" he asks, his voice low and husky, the unspoken tension crackling between you like electricity.

"Dare," you say, feeling a rush of anticipation coursing through your veins as you set the can down, ready for things to escalate.

Mingyu's eyes gleam with mischief as he accepts the challenge, his lips curling into a devilish grin. "I dare you to sit on my lap," he declares, his voice low and teasing.

You gulp, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand up, still clutching the pillow that covers your lower half. Slowly, you make your way over to where Mingyu is sitting, his gaze burning into yours as he taps his lap, silently urging you to take the plunge.

With a shaky breath, you lower yourself onto his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. As you settle into his embrace, he gently removes the pillow from your grasp, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You give Mingyu's hand a playful smack, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you protest, "Hey, that's not part of the dare!"

He just chuckles at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get feisty," he teases, his tone light.

But then, he raises an eyebrow suggestively, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why don't you dare me to let me place my hand on your thighs then?" he suggests, his voice low and husky, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Your heart races at the suggestion, torn between the thrill of the dare and the apprehension of where it might lead. With a nervous laugh, you meet his gaze, your own eyes dancing with excitement. "Okay, then. I dare you," you say, the words coming out in a breathless whisper, "to place your hand on my thigh."

"Sure, if you say so," Mingyu responds, a hint of excitement evident in his voice as he complies with your dare.

His hand returns to your thigh, but this time, it's not just resting there; it's caressing, moving up and down in a slow, tantalizing motion that sends shivers down your spine. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a gasp at the sensation.

"Truth or dare?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Dare," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Face me," he commands gently, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Following his instructions, you shift your position, straddling his lap as he remains seated, facing each other. As you settle into his embrace, you feel your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your underwear. Mingyu's hands find their way to your waist, holding you firmly as you feel the unmistakable pressure of his bulge against you.

The sensation sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can feel yourself getting wet as desire courses through your veins. With every movement, every touch, the tension between you escalates, and you know that this game of truth or dare is about to take a decidedly steamy turn.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you muster up the courage to continue the game. "Truth or dare?" you ask Mingyu, your voice slightly shaky.

"Truth," he replies, his gaze locked with yours, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"What kind of kisser are you?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mingyu's lips curl into a smirk as he considers his response. "Do you want to find out?" he asks suggestively, his hand squeezing your waist gently.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. "Well, I did ask, so.. yeah" you reply bravely, meeting his gaze with determination.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, the tension between you palpable. His arousal only fuels your own, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

A shiver runs down your spine as Mingyu's whispered words caress your ear, his voice laced with a hint of teasing affection. "Being brave now, huh? Is it, babe?" he murmurs, his warm breath sending a delicious tingle down your spine.

The affectionate term catches you off guard, and you feel your stomach flutter at the sound of it. He rarely uses such endearments, reserving them for moments when he wants to tease you or express a deeper level of intimacy. Hearing it now, in the midst of this charged atmosphere, sends a rush of warmth coursing through you, and you can't help but lean into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

"One of us should be brave," you tease, trying to maintain a hint of playful banter despite the growing intensity between you.

Mingyu's hand continues its slow exploration beneath the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. His warm breath tickles your neck as he hums in agreement to your suggestion.

You feel his lips brush against your collarbone, the exposed skin tingling at his touch. A small gasp escapes your lips as he presses a gentle kiss to the sensitive area, eliciting a low curse from him.

"I've wanted this to happen for so long," Mingyu admits, his voice thick with desire as he moves to your neck, peppering it with small, teasing kisses.

You place your hand on his face, halting his advances and meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. "So, will I finally get to know what kind of a kisser you are?" you tease, your voice laced with anticipation.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with amusement as he leans back slightly, his smirk widening. "Guess you'll just have to find out," he replies, his tone teasing yet filled with promise.

The tension between you crackles in the air as you share a knowing look, both fully aware of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean in closer, closing the distance between you, ready to discover just how skilled of a kisser Mingyu truly is.

As Mingyu's lips gently meet yours, a surge of longing washes over you, and you realize just how long it's been since you've shared a kiss like this. His touch is soft yet insistent, coaxing you to lean into the embrace of his lips.

You feel a flutter in your chest as the kiss deepens, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. Sensing your hesitation, Mingyu pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

"Remember to breathe," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion, as he brushes his thumb against your cheek in a gentle caress.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose, the sensation grounding you in the present moment as you lean back in, surrendering to the intoxicating warmth of Mingyu's kiss.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent and passionate as Mingyu's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. Your own arms intertwine around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours.

Feeling bold, Mingyu's hand trails down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As he bites your lower lip, a gasp escapes your lips, allowing him access to deepen the kiss further. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you taste the mingling of his saliva with yours, the sensation sending a thrill coursing through your veins.

Unconsciously, your hips begin to move, seeking more contact, more friction. He responds with a low groan, his own arousal evident as you feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you. The realization of the desire between you ignites a fire within, and you find yourself grinding against him, seeking more of the delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you both.

As you continue to move back and forth, the intensity of the moment heightens, and Mingyu's hands tighten around your waist, his hips meeting yours in a synchronized rhythm. The friction between you builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your tongues dance together in a heated battle for dominance, each movement fueling the growing desire between you. Mingyu's groans and hissed praises only add to the intoxicating atmosphere, his words sending shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he murmurs between heated kisses, his voice thick with desire. "So good, baby. I can't wait to feel you around me," he adds, his words sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

You can feel your wetness dripping down your legs as you move faster, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. Mingyu's grip on your waist tightens, his own arousal evident as he matches your movements with increasing urgency.

With a final, desperate grind, you both reach the peak of pleasure, the sensation overwhelming as you cling to each other, panting and breathless. You can feel your fluids slipping through your underwear, mingling with Mingyu's cum visible on his fabric.

"I can't wait to put my cock inside you," he whispers huskily, his words sending a thrill of excitement through you as you come down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, both of you eager for what comes next.

You rest your head against Mingyu's neck, still trying to catch your breath after the intense moment you shared. His suggestion of resting makes sense, and you nod in agreement, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Let's rest for a bit," he suggests, his voice husky with desire as he gently strokes your hair.

You meet his gaze, your eyes full of lust and hunger, a silent understanding passing between you. The desire to continue what you started pulses through your veins, igniting a fire within you.

"Maybe we should continue this in my bedroom," Mingyu suggests, his voice low and seductive, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of what's to come. With a nod, you agree, your heart pounding with anticipation as you both make your way to his bedroom.

As you stand in front of him, the tension between you palpable, Mingyu's gaze meets yours, filled with hunger and lust. He licks his lips, your eyes trailing down to his pants where you can see the evidence of your shared desire, his cum seeping through the fabric, mingling with the wetness that you've contributed. Heat floods your cheeks as you meet his gaze again, seeing the raw lust burning in his eyes, mirroring the desire coursing through your own veins.

"You look so hot like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he starts talking dirty, his words sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

The anticipation builds, and you can't help but feel yourself growing more aroused by the second, eager for what comes next in this steamy encounter with Mingyu. You both silently acknowledge that this game of truth or dare has taken a turn you never expected or you did.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

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shu-porang-porang · 4 months

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Love Me Until I Love Myself

♡♡♡ Minho wants to make sure you know he loves you ♡♡♡

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

Theme: Angst, Fluff, Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), reader is insecure and doesn't like herself

Word count: 3 k

You and your boyfriend are on the ride back home from an awards show after party. It was exhausting. You used to think they must be fun, getting to chat and party with celebrities, but nope. You’re not built for this. You wonder how he could do it, especially after performing those taxing choreos. You could never. All night he was so bubbly and cheerful, while you tried to hide in shadows and attract as little attention as possible. Well, it’s not like people cared about you anyway, you were an outsider, a peasant who was offered a chance at a royal ball.

Halfway through it you questioned why you even accepted to participate, and then right away, you remembered why. Another girl approached him, congratulating him on their win and talking about memories you weren’t a part of, laughing at inside jokes you couldn’t understand. Of course, he would be comfortable with these girls, they’re coworkers after all! He’s known some of them for ages, way before you guys met, and of course you had no right to tell him to stay away from them or anything. The best you could do was to stick around, so the girls were aware of you as his girlfriend, or he knew you were there, lest he decided to do something naughty with one of them...

You know you’re being unreasonable; you know he’s loyal, and they’re just friends, some of them are even like his little sisters, but you can’t get these thoughts out of your head. Your insecurities won’t let you. After all, those girls are famous idols, loved by millions, always so dolled up and pretty, acting cute and shit. You think it’s just a matter of time before Minho realizes the timid plain you ain’t good enough for a star like him. Although he always fondly smiles at your dorky made up dance moves, you think some performer who could actually dance and shared his passion for dancing would be more appealing to him. You feel you lack a lot, and you can’t justify why someone like him would be interested in someone like you.

You feel pathetic. You let out a sigh subconsciously and Minho gently puts a hand on your thigh, asking if you’re ok. You reply with a nod and a weak smile. You’re afraid if you try to talk, tears may spill. His hand remains on your thigh, so you hold it to calm yourself down. His soft hand that you love so much. You love everything about him, you’re crazy about him. You wish you didn’t love him so much, then he couldn’t one day break your heart. You wish you were another person, well, you wished that almost your entire life until you met him. Having him, convinced you that you were alright, the person who you were and hated for so long, was the same person who got you to him, so it was alright. But here you are again, doubting yourself. You think you’re just broken and can never be fully fixed. So maybe it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to stick with you…

You arrive at Minho’s place. You moved in with him a few months back, so it’s technically your place too, but you don’t dare to indulge yourself in that idea, you think you don’t deserve it, you’ll lose it soon, so better to not get attached, but it’s already too late.

Home, at last. As soon as you enter, you are greeted by the cats. Minho picks one up cooing at it. You walk past by him into the bedroom. You just wanna rid yourself of the party attire and go to sleep, right now the only thing that could stop your train of horrible thoughts is sleep.

Minho joins you soon after, walks towards you and wraps his arms around you from behind as you’re taking your jewelry off in front of the mirror. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Hey let go, I’m tired. Just wanna get out of this dress and go to bed.”

“But I want you to stay in this dress a bit longer. You looked so pretty tonight, babe” he leaves kisses on your exposed shoulder that make your breath hitch in your throat. But you’re still upset about the bleak night you had.

“Oh, is that why you spent the whole time talking to other girls while I was sitting right there?” Your bottled up emotions force you to blurt out.

He lifts his head up, looking you in the eyes through the mirror. His expression is baffled, he’s trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“What are you talking about? I thought we had a nice time there!”

“Well, you obviously had, giggling with them all night.”

You try to break free from his arms but he won’t budge.

“Hey! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s exactly wrong.”

You try to form sentences that would explain why you’re feeling like this, but you feel stupid for bringing it up in the first place. You break into tears as you’re tired and helpless and don’t even know how to make sense of your feelings. Silent tears start streaming down your cheeks, you’re never one to sob loudly. Worries written all over his face.

“Baby tell me. What did I do? Did someone say something to you?”

You shake your head “no”. He lifts you up and carries you to bed, sitting you on his lap. You show no resistance, your hands are balled up on your lap and your head is down, trying to cover your crying face with the lose strands of your hair, which he tucks behind your ear immediately. His thumb is caressing your tear-stricken cheek. His other hand is soothingly massaging your thigh.

“It’s okay baby, you can talk to me. Please. It really hurts me to see you like this and not be able to do anything about it. Tell me what’s wrong sweetie. We’re gonna fix it together.”

You don’t wanna hurt him. Hurting him is the last thing you would do. So, you try to fight the tears and speak.

“I… seeing you tonight… the girls all pretty and talented… the things you have in common… how close you are… I wonder… how long… till you realize……….”

“Till I realize what baby?”

“I’m not… good enough” your voice is shaky, again on the verge of tears.

He’s in disbelief. His mouth slightly agape in shock. His grip on your waist tightens.

“Why would you even think that?” he says as if asking himself, not really waiting for a response from you.

His brows are furrowed. He’s thinking to himself.

“I get it now. You were sitting right there, and I kept talking to other people as if you weren’t. But I just thought you weren’t taking part in conversations coz you didn’t want to be bothered… but you actually felt excluded from them. Is that right?”

“Almost. That alone wasn’t a problem, but it made me think you deserve to be with someone who’s more like them and less like me…”

“Woah! Where did you get that from?”

“You’re too good for me… it can’t be right. I’m afraid you’re wasting your time with me…”

“Hey! You don’t get to decide that for me! Do you think I couldn’t have any of those girls if I wanted? The thing is, I don’t want them, I want you.”

“Why do you even love me? Even I can’t love myself…”

“Where should I begin? I love everything about you, and I make that my first priority from now on, to make you see all the things I love in you, and to make you love them too.” He finishes his sentence with a soft kiss on your collarbone.

He plants a few more kisses on the expanse of your chest before pulling back and looking into your glossy eyes. You give him a thankful smile as your hands reach for his nape and pull him in for a kiss. His lips feel like heaven against yours, soft and plump. The kiss starts with languid movements of your mouths. Neither of you are in a hurry, you both need to savor this moment. He drags his tongue on your bottom lip and you let it in. As your tongues are dancing, the temperature rises. His hand that was on your waist, travels up to grope at your clothed breast, the other hand is tangled in your hair, keeping your head in place for him to abuse your lips.

He lays you on your back on the bed, momentarily disconnecting your lips which makes you whimper in loss. It encourages him to get back to kissing with even more fervor. His hands are pulling the straps of your dress down, trying to gain access to your breasts. He trails kisses down your jaw and across the column of your neck, to your shoulders and collarbone. They alternate between feather like pecks to purplish hickeys. He can’t decide what he wants. He wants it all, he wants all of you, he can’t get enough.

He stops to admire his work of art. A hand cups your cheek gently which you lean into, closing your eyes.

“You’re so perfect baby,” He plants a kiss to your forehead. “Even in my wildest imaginations I couldn’t picture someone this pretty,” Another kiss to your nose. “Inside and out.”

You open your eyes to see his lovingly stare back. You pull him in for another taste of his lips.

“So, do you still wanna get rid of this dress?”

“I do, if you want to.”

“As gorgeous as you look, I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.”

He takes it off and your left in nothing but your black lace panties. You tug at his dress shirt, signaling him to take it off too, which he complies, followed by the unbuckling of his belt and his pants follow suit.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I want you to never forget that.” He says as he hovers over you once again. You open your arms to invite him into your hug. He lowers his body onto yours, slightly circling his hips against your crotch. You feel him twitch in his boxers.

“We don’t have to do it if you’re not in the mood, you know.” He says searching your eyes.

“I want it baby, I need you, I really do.” You say as your hands are mapping his toned chest.

With a little smirk on his lips, he goes back to business. He kisses your chest, right above your racing heart, then latches his mouth to your left nipple. He sucks and bites at it till its raw, while trying to give the same amount of attention to the right one between his fingers. You squirm beneath him as your nipples get too sensitive and can’t handle more. He gets the cue and snaps out of his uncontrollable desire to ruin them. Instead, he gives them both kitten licks and pecks in turn, to compensate for the rough treatment they just received.

Moving down your naval, he’s all soft and sweet with butterfly kisses, loving pecks and whispering sweet nothings in between. He’s slotted between your thighs as he reaches your core. Eyes darting up to ask for your permission one last time before he’s completely unstoppable. You give him a nod and he places a kiss to your clothed mound. He teases by nudging his nose to your clit and licking a stripe from your hole to it. Tasting the arousal leaking through the fabric, he lets out a satisfied hum that sends shivers up your spine. You’re growing impatient but he’s taking his sweet time with peppering your inner thighs with kisses and hickeys. You feel more of your juices flowing out and you buck your hips up.

“Stay still princess. Let me take care of you, hm?”

“Minho… please…” You whine. You trust him that he’ll take good care of you, but you can’t wait anymore.

He finally gets rid of your panties and the cool air hits your pussy, followed by warm puffs of his breath.

“So pretty… all mine” He says before diving down and starting to make out with your pussy lips. The lewd noises that fill the room make you forget why you were even upset earlier. The only thing you don’t like about this moment is how little pressure he’s putting on your clit, enough to keep your juices flowing, but not enough to make them gush out all at once. You’re a moaning mess, your fingers pulling at his roots, trying to keep his face close to your core. He’s finally sucking at your clit, suddenly the pleasure gets overwhelming as he inserts two fingers inside you. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening to a snap. A few more strokes of his tongue and your coming undone. Your thighs shake around his head, one of his hands comes up to fondle your breast, his mouth still attached to your core, drinking the elixir of life straight from the fountain. He waits for you to ride your orgasm before he crawls back on top and gives you a taste of yourself. His mouth and chin are glistening with your juices. What a sight to see! You feel extremely lucky to be the one who caused this scene.

“That was …amazing… Thank you” you say while trying to find the normal rhythm of your breath.

“I told you I know how to take care of my girl.”

“Now it’s your turn.” You push him on his back and now you’re on top.

First thing you do is taking his boxers off and finally freeing his aching cock. You wonder how he managed to focus on pleasuring you while he was this hard. The sight alone makes you all turned on again. You thought you’d need more time to build a second orgasm, but you’re already throbbing.

Now it’s your turn to mark him, to shower him with kisses, to try and pour as much love as possible onto your every touch. Starting from the sensitive spot on his neck, you know you can’t mark him here, still you suck it a bit harsher than you should. You leave open-mouthed kisses all over his chest and where it is safe, give him a few hickeys too. You lovingly kiss the scar on his abdomen, the fact that it’s another thing that only a few have seen and you’re one of those few, is really endearing to you.

His member is twitching between your bodies. You slide your wet pussy on it, earning a groan from him. You decide he deserves a quicker release, so you stop grinding to hold it and align it with your entrance but he stops you.

“Wait baby. Let me do it.” He says as he’s stopping your hips from moving.

You’re confused but you go with it. He gets on top again.

“Tonight is about showing my baby how much I love her.” He says with a fond smile.

“I wanna make sure everything feels good for you.” He puts a pillow under your hips to gain a better angle. He inserts the two fingers from before in your pussy, checking how wet you are and scissoring them to loosen the muscles.

“Minnie I’m fine… it’s not my first time…” you try to say in between gasps as his fingers alone are doing wonders inside of you.

“Oh but it is sweetheart. I’m gonna love you all over again.” He inserts a third finger.

“Gonna make sure to give you all the love you deserve.”

He clashes his lips to yours as he replaces his fingers with the tip of his cock. The stretch is pleasant, you want more of it. You moan in his mouth as he slowly inches inside you until he finally bottoms out. He stays still, your warmth engulfing him, turns his brains to mush.

He whispers in your ear: “I love you so much”

He starts moving as he nibs at your earlobe, giving you words of praise now and then. Your arms wrap impossibly tight around his shoulders, leaving no space between your chests.

He slowly picks up his pace. Your nails are digging to his biceps now. Beautiful moans fill the room. His lips won’t leave your skin for more than 3 seconds. He pats down your left arm till he reaches your hand and your fingers intertwine as if they have brains of their own. He pins it above your head and his other hand is beside your head, supporting his weight as his movements get faster and less precise.

“ ’m close…” you manage to let out.

“Go ahead… I’m right… behind you”

A few more thrusts and you’re second orgasm hits you as your head falls back and your eyes screw shut, his name like a prayer on your lips. You’ve made a habit out of saying his name every time you came or it wouldn’t feel right.

As your walls convulse around him, he can’t hold it back anymore. Ropes of white hot liquid paint your walls. He collapses on top of you. He tries to pull out but you stop him.

“Wanna stay connected to you a bit more…” You wish you could merge with him into one person, but having him inside a bit longer, would do too.

His head finds its place in the crook of your neck. One of your hands is in his hair and the other is resting on his back. You whisper a “I love you” to his hair and kiss the top of his head and he lets out a sigh. You don’t want this moment to end. If he can love you this much, maybe you should give it a try too.

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ashtavula · 15 days

Note

Hello hope your doing well. Could I request maybe the housewardens receiving a love letter from the reader accidentally. Like the reader accidentally left it somewhere or sent it to them without realizing it.

I got Lilia's General Vanrouge card, so I'm doing very well right now!

Housewardens accidentally receive your love letter

Riddle:

-He gives you a smile as you leave his dorm after an afternoon study session. You'd desperately needed his help, and he had been more than willing to teach you. As Riddle returns, he notices a piece of paper on the floor where you were sitting. As he moves to pick it up, he spies his name on the page, and he begins to read what you have written.

-Riddle's face turns the loveliest shade of red as the letter states your feelings for him, and his heart races. The letter is unfinished, and it's rather clear that you didn't mean for Riddle to read it, but it's proof that you feel the same way about him. And to Riddle, that's all that matters.

-Once he's done, Riddle picks up his pen, and writes his very own letter to you, inviting you to a private tea party. As the pen flows over the page, Riddle's face flushes again. He plans on reciprocating your feelings over tea, telling you just how much he's grown to care about you. In his mind, he's confident and collected. However, when he actually confesses to you, all you see is a sweet boy with a blushing face and eager eyes as he declares his affections.

Leona:

-You certainly didn't mean to leave that love letter, but you did, and Leona found it. His tail lazily sways as he picks up the paper you dropped on his floor. He was actually going to throw it away, until he saw his name. Seeing it captures his interest, and he begins to read through what you wrote.

-Once he finishes, he flops back down onto his bed, still holding your letter. He loves you too, so a part of him is extremely pleased. However, there's a tiny part of him that wonders if you truly understand what a relationship with him would mean.

-In the end, Leona reaches the conclusion that there's no need to avoid getting into a relationship with you since your feelings are mutual. He saunters towards you, with a lazy grin on his face. He shoves your letter in your face, and he laughs when you realize what it is. Just as you open your mouth to speak, Leona yanks you close and kisses you, silently reciprocating your love.

Azul:

-Azul pushes his glasses up as Floyd careens into his office, with Jade trailing in behind him. Any questions die in his throat as Floyd shoves a piece of paper at him with a sharp grin and an insistence that Azul read the letter immediately. Azul sighs, and begins to read, only to gape like a fish out of water.

-He initially has a hard time believing that you actually wrote those lovely things about him, of all people. Old insecurities bubble up to the surface, and they nearly choke out the warmth of his feelings. But as he pores over the letter again and again, your words start to reach him. Hope begins to blossom, and Azul sucks in a shaky breath as he deliberates over how to respond.

-Despite his nervousness, it doesn't take long for him to invite you to a private dinner at Mostro Lounge. When you arrive, you're greeted by the sight of a candlelit dinner. The table is perfectly arranged with all of your favorites, and Azul is a perfect gentleman. But you can tell he's nervous. He keeps fidgeting, and there's a crease in his brow. As you finish eating, Azul clears his throat, and confesses to you. He tells you about the letter, and softly tells you that he loves you too.

Kalim:

-When Kalim spots a piece of paper fall out of your bag, his immediate thought is to return it to you. However, you're gone by the time he picks it up. And he knows it's wrong to look at people's things without permission, but he's curious. His eyes start to sparkle as he reads, and he has to refrain from cheering out of joy.

-You love him back! Kalim practically swoons as he reads the letter again, a bright smile spreading across his face. Already, visions of a happy future with you are playing in his mind. He picks up his phone to call you, but he stops himself. He wants things to be perfect, and so, he calls Jamil instead.

-Kalim is always throwing parties for one reason or another, so you're not surprised by his seemingly impromptu invitation. You enjoy the party, and you happily accept a ride on Kalim's magic carpet. As the stars twinkle above you, Kalim tells you everything. As the two of you embrace, Kalim's eyes fill with overjoyed tears.

Vil:

-Vil's delicate brows pinch in confusion when he sees a letter on his vanity. The confusion only grows when he sees a note from Rook sitting neatly on top of the letter, proclaiming that he'd "found something rather interesting." Vil sighs, and picks up the letter, only for his lips to part in a silent gasp as he reads.

-This is clearly just a rough draft, with crossed out words and notes in the margins, but your feelings come through loud and clear. With every clumsy phrase and every bit of awkward wording, you tell him that you love him. Vil lets out a delighted sigh as he sets the letter down, gently tucking it away for safekeeping.

-It takes Vil a while to decide on the best method for telling you about his own feelings, ultimately deciding that you deserve nothing less than his best. And so, he pulls out all the stops. Throughout the course of a day, he takes you out shopping, books massages, and takes you to all of the best places on the island. It culminates in a wonderful dinner, where he confesses his true feelings for you.

Idia:

-A ping on his monitor catches Idia's attention, and he clicks on the notification. It's an email from you, and he internally groans a bit. He's really hoping that you're not trying to invite him out to something. However, his grumbles turn into a high pitched shriek as he actually reads what's on his screen.

-The email was clearly sent by accident, as it's an unfinished draft, but Idia's poor heart still leaps into his throat as he reads. You love him? Idia scrambles away, muttering to himself as he runs his hands through his pink hair, trying to process what he just saw. Sure, he loves you too, but he never actually thought that his crush would be reciprocated. After a long while of pacing, Idia decides to respond. Well, he tries to. Seeing your letter again just makes him feel all anxious.

-It took a bit of help from Ortho, but Idia eventually manages to hatch a plan to confess to you. He invites you over to binge watch some anime with him. Idia makes sure to have your favorite snacks, and he sits beside you as the episodes start to play. It turns out to be a romance series about a shy man who keeps trying, and failing, to get his crush to notice his feelings. As the characters confess to each other, Idia clears his throat, and awkwardly compares the two of you to the couple on the screen. Luckily, you get the hint, and Idia gets to experience the same happy ending.

Malleus:

-Malleus didn't mean to pry, but his curiosity was piqued when he spied a folded piece of paper lodged in the branches of a bush outside of Ramshackle. Malleus figures that the wind must have blown it there. A quick glance reveals that it's your handwriting on the page, but he doesn't think much about it until he sees the word, "love." He frowns, and reads the letter from start to finish.

-The letter proclaims your amorous feelings for someone who's name isn't stated. The edges of the paper crinkle in his grip as jealousy begins to burn in heart. However, the flames of envy are quickly snuffed out when he arrives at the final line of the letter, a simple, "I love you, Malleus." Oh. Malleus cradles the letter to his chest, a smile spreading across his face.

-Malleus doesn't hesitate to let you know just how he feels, even though it's late. He teleports into your bedroom, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. As you're roused from your slumber, you find him towering over you with a broad grin and your letter still clutched in his hands. He tells you that he feels the same way, making grand declarations of everlasting love. It would be romantic, if you weren't in your pajamas and it wasn't 2 am.

#riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst

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calmcoldevening · 11 months

Text

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 month

Text

Part two to this story

After Jason's cruel display and your identity of Eddie's admirer being public knowledge, you're sure he will be disgusted. He hates you and your friends doesn't he?

Turns out you're in for a big surprise.

Minors shoo! Angst, fluff, sweet Eddie and reader taking no shit.

If you have any requests then send me an ask. My request rules are in my pinned post ❤️

🎀💌

Hellfire Slut. The words had practically burned into your brain as you tossed and turned in bed. Jason's cruelty was nothing new but you didn't think he'd ever go this far.

It was bad enough that Eddie's best friend had caught you in the act of delivering the notes and the thought he could spill all to Eddie, you didn't expect your secret to come out in such a public way.

The notes that you had poured your heart to Eddie had been clear to see by everyone and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn't care that people knew you were smitten with Eddie, it was the fact that he was probably disgusted that you had feelings for him.

You dreaded going to school but you knew you had to face Eddie and Jason at some point. It didn't stop nightmares plaguing your mind all night about what would happen come first period.

...

Homeroom was the first thing today before any other classes, you try not to draw attention to yourself as you slide into a seat at the back of class. However it feels like all eyes are on you today, Chrissy takes the seat beside you and holds your hand giving it a tight squeeze, it makes you feel a tiny bit better.

Mrs Jones isn't in class yet so chatter buzzes around you incessantly, your skin tingles as you feel Eddie's gaze on you a few times, try not to look up into those pretty brown eyes.

One of Jason's friends called Tyler smirks at you, he's sitting beside Jason and says loudly for all to hear. "So little miss perfect likes a freak in the sheets huh? Who would have thought?" there's a little ripple of laughter that's quelled by Chrissy's vicious glare. She's normally a sweetie so swing her pissed shut everyone up.

Ignore him. Just ignore him you chant in your head but he still continues. "You know I was going to ask you out but fuck that. You're a dumb little bitch"

There's a collective silence as you hear Eddie's metal lunchbox drop to the floor. To your surprise he's glaring daggers at Tyler, you also notice that his knuckles are bruised. What the hell happened?

"Oooh you're in luck sweetcheeks, maybe Munson likes you back and the two of you can be freaks together"

You're fraying control over being calm snaps. Screw this. You weren't going to sit and let him run his mouth or let anyone like him or Jason make you cry again.

"You can admit to everyone you're jealous Tyler it's okay. We all heard about the little problem you have, Stacy told us all about how disappointing you are" you fake a sympathetic smile at him and his eyes nearly bug out of his sockets.

Jason looks ready to say something but you don't give the satisfaction of listening to the bullshit he says. "I couldn't be less interested in what you have to say Carver, you're a pathetic, nasty little worm"

While sassing Jason you miss the look of awe on Eddie's face. Gareth snorts at Eddie's stunned look.

"Dude, I really do think I'm in love" Eddie murmurs sounding almost reverent. Gareth sighs. Maybe now Eddie knew it was you that sent the notes the two of you could get together and he could get a minute of peace.

Meanwhile you lean back in your seat relieved as Mrs Jones comes in. There's still a question that's nagging at you though.

"Chrissy, why are Eddie's knuckles bruised?"and that's when Chrissy launches into the tale of how Eddie punched Jason after you left yesterday.

Hearing this makes a small bubble of hope build up inside of you. Maybe just maybe Eddie feeling the same for you might not be as hopeless as you first thought.

...

After a few fruitless attempts Eddie manages to track you down as you're coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy. She gives you an impish, knowing smile as she leaves you and Eddie to talk.

Telling Jason and Tyler what you thought about them made you feel a little bit better for a while, boosted your shattered confidence but now Eddie was around and you could feel that confidence crack.

What was he about to say? Was he going to tell you he was disgusted?

"You don't have to be nervous princess" you feel your nerves dissipate at his soothing tone.

"I know you thought the notes were a joke but they aren't Eddie, I've really fallen for you. I was crushing on you for such a long time. That's why I wrote the notes in the first place, I was worried if I told you in person that you would be disappointed" the words all come out in a rush and you feel relieved getting it all out.

He shakes his head. "I mean I would have been surprised but the way you spoke in the notes...how could you ever think I'd ever be disappointed sweetheart?" His words fill you with hope, a warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"You know because I'm from the dark side" you murmur and he frowns. His hand reaches out to hold yours and you wince at the bruising on his knuckles.

"You didn't need to do that Eddie, I don't want you hurt" he shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"It was worth it. You're worth it"

Eddie gently takes your hand and kisses it, "I fell in love with you through what you said sweetheart, I want to know all about you. I don't give a fuck about who you're friends with or if you're part of the dark side. I just want to be with you".

A slow smile works it's way on your face and you lean forward and kiss him, continue kissing him until you're both a little dazed and smiling goofily at each other.

"Uh maybe we could go out for Milkshakes after school, if you want princess?" you nod feeling the bubble of excitement in your belly.

After all that worrying you were going on your first date with Eddie and you couldn't wait.

Maybe happy endings were possible after all ❤️

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

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ashwhowrites · 5 months

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Maybe billy hargrove x sunshine!cheerleader!reader ? where they‘re dating and the rest of the cheer squad (except chrissy <3) is jealous so they act like they are her friends and they keep asking her questions about billy to have a chance with him, but she doesn’t realize because she thinks they’re just interested in her relationship since they’re ‘re apparently her friends. But billy is super loyal (kinda unrealistic with his character but anyway lol) and every time they they try to hit on him he rejects them pretty harshly ? And maybe in the end she finally stands up for herself and billy is just like „that‘s my girl.“

I‘m so sorry if this was hard to understand it‘s my first time requesting and I was so nervous🥲, especially since I basically read all of your ST fics😭

Love love love a good boyfriend Billy fic 🫶🏻

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Cheerleader game

When the word got out that Billy Hargrove locked down on one girl, hell broke loose. The boys were excited that there wouldn't be any more competition, but the girls were having a hard time accepting it. Billy was the heartthrob of the school and every girl wanted their turn with him. But his eyes landed on Y/N, and they never left.

Y/N was sweet, bubbly, and all-around a ball of sunshine. Her being with Billy was a shock to everyone. Sure, she was a cheerleader and Billy only focused on the popular crowd. But the squad couldn't believe out of all of them, he picked her.

Their jealousy made them bitter and snakes. They swarmed Y/N countlessly with questions about Billy. They craved every detail they could get, details to make him interested in them. Poor Y/N didn't know their intentions, she thought they were just interested in her new relationship. She thought they were being friends.

~~~

"So Y/N, tell us! What does he like about you?" Bethany smiled, patting her manicured nails against the table.

"Um, I don't know. I feel like you'd have to ask him that." Y/N laughed awkwardly. To be honest, she wondered why he liked her too. But she didn't think too long about it. He liked her and asked her out. That's what mattered.

"Wrap your brain around it! You beat out the whole school, there must be something special about you." Bethany said, her eyes glared for a tiny second then a bright smile took over her face.

Y/N tried to rank her brain for compliments Billy gave. She smiled as a few came to mind.

"Oh, I know! He loves my pink lip gloss. He said he loves how shiny and irresistible it makes my lips!"

~~~

Billy was walking towards his car when he saw a girl leaning on it. He eyed her quickly but didn't recognize much about her.

"Can I help you?" Billy asked, and not politely. His voice was thick and sharp. His eyes raised in a bothered way and his body language read annoyed.

Bethany giggled and popped her gum. The gum brought attention to her shiny pink lips. Billy noticed the familiarity of the gloss but didn't say anything about it.

"See something you like? The gloss maybe?" She teased, she slowly applied the lipgloss over her already-coated lips. Billy saw the bottle and confirmed it was the same kind Y/N wore.

"Not on you," Billy said, chuckling at the shocked look on Bethany's face. He got in the car and started the engine. The loud rumble made Bethany move out of the car with a growl.

~~~

"What do you guys enjoy doing on dates? Does he like to go to the movies or something?" Sarah asked, throwing her bright blonde hair over her shoulder.

"We go to the movies a lot! He's really into action movies. He wants to go see that new Batman movie."

~~~

Billy was finishing practice, his sweat dripping from his curls down his chest. The small shorts he wore caught every cheerleader's attention. Practicing in the same gym was the best thing the school came up with.

While Y/N and Chrissy were having a small talk on the couch, Sarah took the opportunity to race off to talk to Billy. After her talk with Y/N yesterday, she raced to the movie theater to buy two tickets for the new Batman film for opening night.

She snatched the tickets and confidently walked up to Billy. His back to her as he switched out his shirts. Sarah felt drool on her chin as she watched his tan back move. She tapped on his shoulder, a smile on her face as he turned.

"Hi, Billy! You looked great during practice today." She batted her eyelashes and trailed her hand up his arm. She tried not to pout when he pushed her hand off and made a grunt sound in response.

"Anyway!" She brushed it off, "I got two tickets for that new Batman movie, would you maybe want to go?"

"Sweet! Thanks!" He smiled. There was a glint in his eye that made her stomach flip. "Can I see them?" He asked, his hand reaching out. She tried to catch her breath as his fingertips touched her skin. Her body was on fire from the simple touch.

"Opening night! That kicks ass. Thanks." He said he slipped the tickets into his pocket. "See ya."

Sarah was confused as she watched him walk off. She turned around and growled when she saw him walk up to Y/N. The tickets were in his hands as he showed them to Y/N, who excitedly nodded. They walked out hand in hand with Sarah's tickets.

~~~

Y/N screamed as Billy scored the winning shot. The gymnasium was electric as the boys celebrated their win. Y/N waited for all the boys to finish congratulating Billy, waiting for her turn to race in his arms and kiss his face.

By the time the boys finished, the cheer squad raced to Billy next. Y/N stood shocked as all these girls swarmed her boyfriend. Their hands on his skin, and lips on his cheek. That's supposed to be her!

"Get your man, girl." Chrissy encouraged, her arms crossed as she looked in shame at her team.

Y/N huffed and marched over to her boyfriend. She felt a sense of pride that he didn't look pleased either. He looked annoyed with all these girls.

Once his blue eyes caught hers, a smile lit up his whole face. Y/N wanted to laugh at the way he pushed through the girls, his feet walking towards her.

"There's my girl." He cheered, his arms open as she raced into them. She ignored everyone around them as Billy spun her in the air. Her praise was the only one he cared about hearing it from.

"Amazing, baby." Her words pressed against his lips as she kissed him. And she kissed him hard. Her hands were in his hair as he set her back on the floor. Her back arched as he dipped her.

When they separated from their hot kiss, Y/N offered him a smile before she looked to her team. Her face was hard as the smile was swiped off her face. A glare and snarl sent their way as she stepped closer to them.

"I'm done with all you girls flirting and touching him. He's taken and he's not interested. If you continue to disrespect my relationship, your ass is off the team." The girls quickly ran off, A sense of fear filled the atmosphere as they refused to look at her or Billy.

Y/N stood proudly as she watched them scatter.

"Atta girl." Billy praised, his arms wrapping around her from behind. His face snuggled in her neck as she giggled at the feeling.

"Gotta sink my claws in you a tad bit more, I think," Y/N said, quietly moaning as Billy nipped at her neck.

"Gladly let you."

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x cheerleader! reader #ashwhowrites

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violetduchess · 10 months

Text

Hashira w/ oblivious s/o

Summary: You're pretty dumb but they love you

CW: None

Note: by demand

Giyu Tomioka (Water Hashira):

Giyu, being reserved and not adept at expressing his emotions, finds it challenging to directly confront his feelings for you.

He becomes more protective of you, keeping a watchful eye from afar and ensuring your safety during missions. He prioritizes your well-being without drawing attention to his actions.

Giyu's stoic demeanor falters in your presence, his normally calm and composed façade occasionally showing hints of nervousness or vulnerability.

He might drop subtle hints, such as offering you his coat when you're cold or taking on extra tasks to help ease your workload, hoping you'll notice and realize his affection.

Shinobu Kocho (Insect Hashira):

Shinobu, with her cheerful and playful nature, masks her true feelings behind her bubbly personality. She rarely reveals her vulnerable side.

She resorts to teasing and playful banter as a way to hide her affections, often leaving you guessing about her true intentions and making it difficult to discern her genuine feelings.

Shinobu tries to find more opportunities to spend time with you, whether it's suggesting additional training sessions or volunteering for joint missions.

She leaves small gifts or notes for you to discover, accompanied by playful hints or inside jokes, hoping that these gestures will eventually make you realize her true emotions.

Kyojuro Rengoku (Flame Hashira):

Kyojuro's naturally boisterous and enthusiastic personality becomes even more amplified in your presence as he tries to catch your attention and make you laugh.

He becomes your biggest supporter, offering words of encouragement and admiration during missions, always being there to cheer you on and celebrate your achievements.

Kyojuro may subtly drop hints during conversations, casually mentioning qualities or traits he admires, often sharing anecdotes of individuals who share similarities with you.

He tries to create more opportunities for one-on-one interactions, whether it's inviting you to join him for training or suggesting grabbing a meal together to get to know each other better.

Tengen Uzui (Sound Hashira):

Uzui's naturally flirtatious and charming nature goes into overdrive as he tries to grab your attention and make you feel special.

He showers you with compliments and playful banter, constantly finding ways to make you smile and feel appreciated.

Uzui involves himself in your life, going out of his way to join missions or events you're a part of, using those opportunities to spend more time together and demonstrate his interest.

He drops hints and makes veiled comments about his feelings during conversations, skillfully disguising his affection as casual remarks, hoping that you'll pick up on his intentions and respond in kind.

Gyomei Himejima (Stone Hashira):

Gyomei, known for his strong and stoic demeanor, finds it difficult to express his feelings directly. His actions speak louder than words.

He becomes incredibly protective of you, ensuring your safety at all costs and standing as a formidable shield against any threat.

Gyomei goes out of his way to assist you with tasks or offer support, silently shouldering burdens to ease your worries.

He often shows acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, such as offering you his hand when you stumble or lending a listening ear when you need someone to talk to.

Mitsuri Kanroji (Love Hashira):

Mitsuri's affectionate and passionate nature becomes even more apparent when she's around you. Her heart practically glows with adoration.

She finds herself constantly seeking your attention, engaging in conversations that highlight your qualities and making you feel valued.

Mitsuri goes above and beyond to help you, whether it's assisting with training or surprising you with thoughtful gestures and gifts.

She may become more physically affectionate, offering warm hugs and gentle touches, hoping that her actions will convey her deep affection.

Obanai Iguro (Serpent Hashira):

Obanai, known for his reserved and enigmatic nature, struggles to openly express his emotions. His affection is often hidden beneath a stoic façade.

He becomes more attentive to your needs, carefully observing and anticipating your desires to ensure your comfort and well-being.

Obanai may quietly lend a hand when you least expect it, subtly supporting you without drawing attention to himself.

He finds solace in silently observing you, admiring your every move and cherishing the moments he gets to spend in your presence.

Muichiro Tokito (Mist Hashira):

Muichiro's quiet and introverted nature makes it challenging for him to express his feelings directly. He tends to communicate through subtle actions and gestures.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you, his adoration evident in his gaze, but he struggles to find the right words to express his emotions.

Muichiro becomes more attentive to your presence, seeking opportunities to be near you without drawing too much attention to himself.

When you're around, he may appear slightly more talkative and engaged, making an effort to interact with you and share small snippets of his thoughts.

Muichiro may find comfort in simple acts of kindness, quietly leaving small gifts or tokens of appreciation for you to discover.

He treasures the moments when you two can spend time together, even if it's just sharing a quiet silence or engaging in a shared interest.

Muichiro's subtle displays of affection reflect his deep adoration for you, as he navigates the complex terrain of his emotions with a quiet determination.

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Wind Hashira):

Sanemi's rough and brash exterior hides a softer side that he struggles to express. He often masks his feelings with gruffness and sarcasm.

He may find himself constantly stealing glances at you, his gaze filled with a mix of longing and frustration at your obliviousness.

Sanemi may try to protect you in subtle ways, such as offering to accompany you on missions or keeping an eye out for your safety from a distance.

He may exhibit moments of unexpected kindness, like sparing a genuine smile or offering a small gesture of help when you least expect it.

Sanemi's affections may manifest through teasing and playful banter, using humor as a defense mechanism to cope with his own emotions.

He may struggle to articulate his feelings directly, often resorting to indirect comments or snarky remarks to hide his true emotions.

Sanemi's gruff exterior may soften when you're around, with small glimpses of vulnerability slipping through as he tries to navigate his feelings for you.

#xreader #giyuu x reader #muichiro x reader #sanemi x reader #rengoku x reader #mitsuri x reader #obanai x reader #gyomei x reader #uzui x reader #shinobu x reader

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ghouljams · 3 months

Note

old man is an attitude and he has it i love this little series

Ghost maintains he is "too old for this" about nearly everything. It's a frequent refrain in class when he has to figure out some new tech or interpret any slang. Love on the other hand seems bursting with youth, she's on top of all the latest trends, she's bubbly and cheerful, she's Ghost's opposite in a lot of ways. It's shocking to see her trailing after Ghost and asking philosophy questions, "so when Kant said..." or "do you think if Neichze knew how people would interpret his work..." just chattering away while Ghost gives one word answers and makes a sharp turn into a men's room to escape her. She waits outside the bathroom for a few minutes, chatting with a student while she waits, wonders aloud when Ghost will be done only to be told that he left a few minutes ago. (She is shocked and offended)

Ghost cannot be around that woman when she's talking about his interests. She's too genuine with it, too interested, it's worse than her flirting. They're a sight walking around, Ghost the quintessential professor with his jumper and reading glasses, Love in her pink coat and heels, scrolling her phone to read the notes she took on the book Ghost lent her. Ghost doesn't know how anyone gets any work done around her in that skirt, he doesn't get any work done and he's just thinking about it. Somehow she keeps finding him, no one finds him if he doesn't want them to, but somehow, somehow, Love keeps bumping into him.

He's been musing a lot on the philosophy of fate recently. Love has memorized his schedule and deduced that Ghost is too autistic to heavily deviate from it. They are both hopelessly in love.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #oc: love #professor au #professor!ghost

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ivyprism · 8 months

Text

Here we go! The Dating Sim of the Year!

You start the game. You've been waiting months to play this game, and it's now here. You eagerly create your character. Your game begins with a song. You were taken aback by the game. You may choose the genre of the story and switch between the romances if you choose. The developer went above and above; it's almost amazing.

"Careful, you'll catch a cold…" You are ecstatic when a harsh and deep voice emanates from the screen. The voice acting was fantastic! You already liked Sangria. He had offered your MC a jacket while staring out with a flush on his face in the CG.

"You're my choice. Don't ever let anyone tell you anything different." As Falcon's deep and gruff voice comes through the screen, you blush slightly. He was cradling the MC you made in his arms in the CG.

"Let me be your hero... Please..." Aegean's voice came next, and it was gentle and light. As you see a CG, his voice shakes, and he is on his knees, gripping your MC's hands and looking at you pleadingly.

"Pfft... Don't look at me like that... I'll get the wrong idea." Maple's calm and cool voice followed. As your MC gazed at him, he was covering his face with his hand, an orange tint on his face.

"It's okay, I won't let you fall..." Sepia's voice was the next to be heard. Their voice was as gentle as a warm blanket and as smooth as honey. They were holding your MC's hand as they walked on water step stones in the CG.

"I told you to be careful!" Briar's rough, deep, and harsh voice was the next to come through. They were holding your MC's bridal style as they strolled in the CG. They were looking at your MC with a mixture of irritation and anxiety.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Rosewood's upbeat and joyful voice shone through. In the CG, she was dragging your MC by the hand to a carnival.

"You're doing better, I'm proud." Juniper's calm and compassionate voice can be heard via the screen. She's sitting behind your MC in the CG, showing them how to play the guitar.

You didn't realize how this game would quite literally drag you in. But you were excited to play.

The Dating Sim Love Interests are open for asks!

#the harsh but charming love interest #the strict but gentle love interest #the heroic and confident love interest #the delinquent and prankster love interest #the gentle and loving love interest #the cold but kind love interest #the bubbly and cheerful love interest #the cold but charming love interest #dating sim au #new sks #ask them!

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joelscurls · 5 months

Text

a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here.

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking.

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head.

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss?

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through.

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him.

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement.

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what’s on the table,” Joel grumbles.

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance.

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.”

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul.

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think.

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.”

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food.

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him.

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him.

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out.

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from.

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera.

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?”

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes.

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive.

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate.

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles.

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench.

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present.

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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azrielsdove · 27 days

Text

Longing Pt. 2: Azriel

Warnings: Suggestive

Part One Here

***

A strong body was pressed tight against your back, an arm wrapped snug around your waist. You took a deep breath of the morning air, comfortable and happy. You turned in the arm holding you to press a soft kiss to Cassian’s forehead.

Until you realized it was Azriel sleeping soundly next to you, and that it would never be Cassian. You shot up straight, feeling like you had just been doused in ice cold water. The sounds of Nestas moans replayed in your head as Azriel blinked up at you, your sudden movement waking him.

“What happened?” He asked, voice hoarse from sleep. You shook your head in response, not trusting yourself to speak right now. You slid out of the bed and walked quietly into the bathing room, preparing to take a long, sorrowful bath. You heard Azriel getting up as well, followed shortly by your bedroom door opening and closing. Yea, I wouldn’t want to stick around me either, you thought, tears pricking at your eyes.

Everything just felt too heavy.

You undressed and sunk into the warm bath you had drawn, a rather copious amount of bubbles covering you to your chin. You leaned your head back against the edge of the tub, gazing out over the early morning. Why did it have to be so hard? You had first felt the mating bond flicker when you met Cassian, and you thought all your dreams would come true. Certainly he would feel the bond as well, would feel drawn to you. You would fall in love, get married, and have ten beautiful babies. After that day there was never another option for you, not when you were so certain of your mate.

Why did it never snap for him?

Or worse, it did and he decided he wasn’t interested in pursuing that path with you.

Both options made you feel sick.

You closed your eyes and thought back to that very first meeting, the day you were so sure you had gotten what you’d always wanted.

***

“What if they don’t like me?” Your voice was full of doubt as you smoothed your dress down again, anxiety coursing through you. Azriel laughed, tugging you closer to the doors of the massive house in the mountains he had brought you to.

“I promise they will love you. Don’t you trust me?” He teased, poking your side.

You glared at him. “He is the High Lord, Azriel! My High Lord! Big, bad, powerful Rhysand! Am I not expected to be a bit nervous?” He laughed again and shook his head.

“Rhys is not scary. Do you think i’d bring you somewhere you’d be in danger?” A smile ghosted over his lips as he stared you down, daring you to ask to go back home. You sighed and ran your fingers over your dress again, sucking in a deep breath.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

“That’s my girl!” He cheered, looping his arm through yours as he pulled you into the grand house. You were quickly rendered speechless by the stunning room you were in, windows covering three entire walls to overlook Velaris.

“You live here?” You asked in amazement, still looking around the room.

“Sure do. Cassian and I reside up here most of the time. Do you like it?” There’s a strange undertone in his question, a shyness that he doesn’t usually have around you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking out across your face.

“I love it! I can’t believe you have never brought me here before!” You jabbed, smiling bigger at the relief on his face. Azriel had been your friend for some months now, and you occasionally wondered what it would be like to be more. That feeling crept up in your heart at this moment, standing with him in the home he had been so nervous to show you. You opened your mouth to continue before his eyes flicked to something behind you, the smile reserved for you changing to something more boyish.

“Cassian!” He called, and you turned to see a man just as large as Azriel. Right as you felt that golden tug in your chest. His eyes were bright as they took you in, white teeth showing as he smiled wide. Cassian.

Cassian.

Azriel nudged you and you suddenly realized you were staring at the male with your mouth wide open. You flushed and murmured a “hello” as your gaze drifted to the floor. You were thankful that Azriel started a conversation with him about training earlier that week, allowing you to steal glances up at the long-haired god in front of you.

Cassian.

The General of the Night Court.

Azriel’s brother.

Your Mate.

***

You opened your eyes, a deep frown on your face. You had always romanticized that memory, the magical moment of meeting your mate. The gentle tug you felt when you first laid eyes upon him.

But something was off about it.

You sat straighter in the tub, looking blankly out the window. You thought over the second you felt that bond twitch in your chest, the seconds before it.

When Azriel was smiling down at you.

No. No, you can’t have made a mistake like that. You shook your head as if to clear it, thinking back to other moments you felt the pull of the mating bond.

***

“Catch!” Azriel yelled, tossing a deadly sharp dagger at you. You yelped and dodged out of the way, watching the blade land point-down in the sand. You spun towards him, crossing your arms as you did.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You had agreed to come up to train with Azriel today, mostly due to knowing Cassian would likely be there. He had been on you about learning self-defense, adamant that the world wasn’t all safe like Velaris.

Azriel shrugged, another dagger in his hands. “Your reflexes are shit.” He stated, inspecting the blade he was holding.

“You gave me hardly any warning! It’s my first day!” You protested, knowing he wasn’t wrong. He shrugged again, eyes flicking up towards you. You noticed the tense in his arm a split second before the second dagger was hurtling directly towards your face.

This time you slid smoothly to the side, gloved hand shooting out to catch the handle of the damned thing. You turned back to Azriel, a wicked smile on your face.

“Did you truly believe I had never learned self-defense?” The slight surprise on his face was all he gave you before he was throwing another dagger your way. You again caught it with ease, throwing it back at him without missing a beat.

“Okay, color me impressed. You’ve never shown this side of you.” Azriel said, walking over to your side to take the other blades back. You handed them back, his fingers running over yours as he grabbed them. The same second Cassian walked into the ring, shouting about you starting without him.

The same second you felt the bond tug.

***

“No, no, no! That is not how you play!” Cassian yelled, looking down at the move you had just made on the game board.

“It’s not?” You asked innocently, batting your eyes up at him. He glared at you, hands waving in frustration at your game piece.

“You can’t move there! You are one turn away from winning, with a move like that. No chance left for the rest of us.” He sighed dramatically, looking in dismay at the board in front of you.

Azriel chuckled from next to you, leaning forward to look at the board as well. “Poor Cass doesn’t take well to losing,” he stage whispered, pulling a laugh out of you. You turned and looked at him, moving your face close to his as if you were two conspirators.

“He should get used to it if you keep bringing me to game night.” You loudly whispered back, Azriel laughing in answer. Cassian’s grumble dragged your gaze back to him, the bond pulling hard in your chest.

You missed the way Azriel was looking at you at the same moment.

***

The shot burned your throat, a welcome distraction against the sight of Cassian all over some random female. Azriel sat next to you, a pitying look on his face. “We don’t have to stay here, ya know.”

You shook your head, reaching for the cocktail you had ordered as well. “No, I don’t want to ruin your night. It’s not like he has to want me.” You looked down, hot tears sliding down your face. “Maybe he just doesn’t feel it.”

Azriel’s hands cupped your cheeks, dragging your face up to him. “Hey, hey, he just hasn’t realized it yet i’m sure. Don’t let this make you think you’re not enough.” His thumbs swiped away the still falling tears, now accompanied by little sniffles.

“I just don’t understand how it hasn’t snapped for him. What am I doing wrong?” You were mumbling, words hardly coherent. Azriel continued wiping away your tears, allowing your nonsense mumbles to continue.

“Hey,” he said soothingly, bringing his face down close to yours. “Don’t worry. He will come around, and if he doesn’t he was never worth it. Okay?” He gave you an encouraging smile, nodding for you to return it.

“Okay,” you said, sniffing one last time as you pulled away from Azriel and moving to place your glass back on the table.

The table that your drunken eyes severely misjudged the distance of.

Your glass shattered on the floor, the bright colored drink inside spraying all over you and Azriel. You blinked slowly at the mess, looking back up at Azriel’s equally shocked expression.

And then you laughed.

Loud, uncontrollable laughter.

Azriel stared at you for a second before joining in, grabbing napkins to help clean up the mess. The sound of your laughing drew Cassian’s attention back to your table, coming over to see what was going on. You looked up to him while Azriel carefully wiped the drink off of you, the bond glowing brightly.

***

Oh, gods. Every memory you went through of the bond calling to you, Azriel was there too.

Azriel was always there.

The broken pieces inside of you stirred, as if telling you to listen to your gut. You quickly pulled yourself out of the bath, unable to sit still any longer. How could you have made such a mistake?

You dried off and walked into your closet, blindly pulling out clothes while your mind raced.

Did Azriel even know?

You paused in horror, shirt halfway on. You had been going on and on about Cassian to him for gods knew how long. Had it been torture for him this whole time, trying to encourage you?

You quickly finished dressing, tying your hair up loosely as you headed to your bedroom door. You had to go find him, you had to see what he knew, you needed to explain-

Your door opened as you reached it, causing you to jump back in alarm.

Azriel was standing there, looking at you curiously. A large tray of food in his hands. “You okay?” He asked cautiously, taking in the panic on your face.

“Uh, yea! Sorry, I was just about to go look for you? What’s this?” Your voice was too loud, too bright. He narrowed his eyes at you as he stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“What happened.” It wasn’t a question. He set the food down on your desk, turning back to you with his arms crossed.

You shook your head too quickly, hurrying over to the tray he’d set down. “Looks delicious!” You grabbed one of the pastries on the plate, halfway to your mouth when Azriel’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What aren’t you telling me?” His voice was softer, eyes looking over you like he was making sure you weren’t injured.

“Did you know?” You asked quietly, mouth going dry. His eyes flicked up to yours, brows furrowed.

“Know what?”

You swallowed thickly, holding the pastry out towards him. He glanced between you and it, realization coming over his face. “Ah,” he said, letting go of your wrist.

“You don’t want it?” You were embarrassed by how pathetic the question was, arm falling limply to your side.

“No, no that’s not what I mean. I just, last night you were broken into pieces over Cassian. I just,” he swallowed, looking away from you. “I just want you to be sure.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice. You set the pastry back down, reaching out to grab his hands in yours. “Azriel,” you whispered, “it has always been you, hasn’t it? All those times I felt the bond pull, it was all towards you.” His eyes met yours again, shinier than they were before.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your thumbs over his hands, feeling the scars under your touch.

“I thought you would be disappointed. You seemed so happy that it was Cassian, the big, bad General. The hero.” Your heart was breaking, a pain deep in your chest spreading.

“Az…” You let go of one hand to cup his face, tears of your own pricking at your eyes. “I could never be disappointed with you. You held my heart long before I knew who Cassian was. It’s my own fault for misinterpreting the bond the way I did.” You let go of him, moving to pick up the pastry again. “I want you to take it,” you said, holding it out for him.

He looked at you for a long moment before taking the treat out of your hand, raising it slowly to his mouth. You watched as he took a careful bite, eyes locked onto yours while he ate. The shattered pieces of the bond stirred again, calling back out to the male you were made for.

Azriel placed the half eaten pastry down, silently looking back at you. You took a hesitant step towards him, placing one hand on his neck. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, heart racing.

He nodded.

You leaned up, pressing your lips softly to his.

The bond sung.

Azriel’s hands gripped tight around your waist, tugging you flush against him. He kissed you like it was his dying wish, his last chance to get to do so. You put the same emotion back into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He nipped at your lip, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. The bond glowed bright inside of you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. You felt his lips smile against yours, tongue sliding against you like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at his taste, the sweetness of the pastry still lingering. His hands slid up your back, gripping onto your shirt at the noises you made. You arched into him, his lips pulling from yours to trace down your neck. You moaned as he sunk his teeth into you, claiming you as his own. The golden power of the bond flowed through you, whole and pure. A beautiful golden tether, tying you to Azriel.

Azriel, your closest friend.

The Shadowsinger.

The spy of the Night Court.

Your mate.

***

I hope this was what you all wanted!! Thank you so much for your patience recently, I hope you guys appreciate this as much as I appreciate you <3

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #longing

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cinellieroll · 2 months

Text

☆ random obey me headcanons part 3!

beelzebub, belphegor and solomon ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part two (asmodeus, levi and barbatos)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: slight spoilers again if you haven't played the recent lessons

small note: thank you again for the likes and reblogs. also, happy 20 followers! yippeee :^D also sorry for the delay i was being silly the whole day so..yeah

☆ beelzebub:

- doesn't listen to music that much which is kinda weird like wdym you don't vibe to hard ass beats everytime you work out? on the bright side a cupid playing a harp melody does start playing in his head when he sees food

- some days his resting bitch face goes so hard you think he'll start biting your neck off if you even try to talk to him

- he does a lot of unintentional things it's actually so hilarious. like no he didn't mean to mindlessly draw an icecream on your hand and start licking it. it was an accident! he swears!

- when you cry he tries to cheer you up with jokes but it always end up being horrible because deep down he's panicking inside on what to say. the bitch starts saying "why did the chicken cross the road" jokes while watching you bawl your eyes out with snot bubbling out your nose

- so instead of the horrible jokes he decides to hug you instead while picking you up and gently sways you left to right <3 and during those situations he's willing to do anything you want. you want him to carry you to your room? gotcha. you want him to buy you food from hell's kitchen? he promises he won't eat it. (he actually didn't but you could see his drool staining the paper bag once he gives it to you)

- there was one point in his life where he was the smallest and fattest out of all the brothers when he was still younger. his older bros, especially mammon would always pinch and bite his cheeks because of how he looked <3

- watches hells kitchen while eating food from hells kitchen. mans obsessed with the show

- has dimples and an eye smile

- he likes it when he holds your hand and look at it from time to time. he just likes to see how big it is compared to yours.

☆ belphegor:

- doesn't really use his phone a lot and resorts to watching TV instead so he doesn't have to use his hands

- slept while candy was in his mouth and woke up choking once. safe to say lucifer banned candies for a whole month after that and everyone else was NOT happy.

- since he is the youngest out of all the brothers he's pretty spoiled in a way. he wants to be the one you hang out with the most and if he needs to pull out the moves just so you'll give him cuddles he won't think twice

- "what do you mean you have plans with asmo today? didn't you know? he ditched cooking duty last night and lucifer told me to do the job instead. i deserve your attention more than he does."

- he thought you were attractive the first time you two met

- takes reaction pics. it's mostly him in a dimly lit room with his eyebrow raised or replicating a funny photo of his brothers

- wasn't interested in shows like hells kitchen until he saw you and beel watching it. he occasionally watches drag race too

- during car rides or road trips he always has to be the one in the back just so he could lay down and sleep

- you can't rely on him for notes because it's always covered in drool when he sleeps in class. although he mostly never takes notes at all he just relies on stock knowledge and good memory

☆ solomon:

- he never caught up with the recent trends in the human world so you really had no one to relate or talk to about your favorite shows, songs, etc

- decided to catch up for you anyway. what a sweetie pie ^_^

- a tear rolled down his cheek when raphael confessed that he liked his cooking for the first time.

- when he's drunk he starts singing love songs and starts going on a ramble about how lonely he is when he isn't with you. and yes, his voice WILL crack.

- sometimes he points things with his lips it's SOOOO HOTTTT

- he gets sad when you get suspicious of him when he's doing a nice gesture for you. he's aware that everyone else think he's shady, and he is! but mc, he just wants to do something nice for you!

- he's an asshole and will constantly tease you especially if you guys are seated together in class. he'll write a note on your notebook saying something like "remember when you *insert embarrassing moment here* or will start writing something subtly flirty like "wanna come over after school?"

- he buys you a lot of expensive things out of nowhere. like there was no ocassion whatsoever but he gifted you the recent iphone like what?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub obey me #om! beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #om! belphegor #obey me solomon #solomon obey me #om! solomon #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #om! headcanons

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thetriumphantpanda · 5 months

Text

Scandal-Hit Princess

One Day I'll Fly Away - Chapter One

Chapter Summary | A scandal-hit Princess, ink barely dried on the divorce papers and a lone rancher with no interest in the inevitable media storm following her meet for the first time - it’s a recipe for disaster, right?

Word Count | 2.6K

Pairing | Joel Miller x Princess F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | foul language, descriptions and mentions of divorce and infidelity, Joel being a rancher and kinda aloof and unbothered, mentions of body image issues and stress, mentions of the British royal family, no-outbreak AU, no use of y/n, smut in future chapters but nothing else at this point.

Authors Note | Well, here she is - Miss Scandal is ready to meet you all! This has been such a labour of love for me already and I cannot tell you how excited I am to bring you this story. It’s different, but I love it, and I hope you will too! As always, thank you to @undercoverpena and @hellishjoel who have been on the receiving end of so much shouting and screaming about this! Please, if you do enjoy this, consider leaving a comment or reblogging - I will love you all forever! And you can support me further by donating to my Kofi account if you want to.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Kofi | Series Playlist

Rage is the only thing you really feel anymore. The feeling of betrayal, that’s gone. The feeling of sadness at losing the life you had, that’s also gone.The only thing that remains is the rage, bubbling slowly under your skin. You’ve been sitting in it for six months now, sitting with the injustice of it all, how someone had taken one singular conversation and flipped it on its head. The more you think about it, the more you can understand the conclusion everyone had come to, especially when the man wearing the crown had spun the story to suit him, his family, and his fucking son. Traitors, the fucking lot of them.

It hadn’t always been bad. You wouldn’t have said yes to the wedding if it had, regardless of how big the ring had been. He’d been sweet, charming, and despite the fact that your family came from money, he’d given you a life you could only have dreamed of. Sure, the endless flying around the world to shake a few hands and stand for a few photos, tilt your head down and look placid when you talked to anyone, took flowers from children and gripped the arms of people in distress, that all got tiring, but the fairytale had been all worth it really, until it hadn’t.

When the papers became more interested in who made your clothes, or the fact that the colour you’d worn didn’t suit you, or worse, sent some kind of subliminal message, or why the angle of the camera made you look pregnant when you weren’t, or how there must have been an argument between you and your husband because you hadn’t looked at him for the entire time you’d been at the ballet one time. When the focus shifted from what you were trying to do - shine a light on suffering or simply cheer people up by your presence, to trying to find fault in every single thing you ever did, that’s when you started to wonder whether it was all worth it.

Then came the control. The rules. Don’t eat that. Don’t wear that. Don’t paint your nails that colour. Don’t say this. Don’t stand like that. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. And it never seemed to matter how much good you did, how many initiatives you visited or how many sick people’s bedsides you sat next to , someone always had something to pick on. You could be the strongest person on earth, but the more someone picks away, the harder it gets to be yourself. But then, that’s what they wanted wasn’t it? Take the ideal woman on paper and grind her down until she was the ideal woman in real life - someone who kept her real thoughts to herself, behaved properly and didn’t rock the boat.

It strikes you now, in the solitude of this hotel room, that by trying to mould you into that person, you became the very thing they were terrified of all along. Someone who didn’t just rock the boat, but well and truly capsized it. It’s something of a comfort really, sat in this room like a prison, a nice and comfortable prison, but a prison none-the-less, that all it took was one woman who’d had enough to start tearing the family down from the inside. And it’s not like you’d really tried that hard to do it anyway - it hadn’t even been your intention. It just so happened that you’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time and someone had twisted your words - and his - to mean something they absolutely were not. If it hadn't been for what it had cost you, a one way ticket to the middle of nowhere and a reputation in tatters, you might find all this quite funny, but alas, there was nothing about this exile - or rather banishment - that was funny rot you right now.

You slam the magazine you’ve been trying to read down on your lap in frustration. The heat in this place is fucking stifling. Who the fuck suggested Texas as a good idea? Sure, it’s a world away from where you’d just come from, and for now, the press, obsessed with you since day one, hadn’t quite figured out where you were yet, but it was only a matter of time really. Someone would tip them off for a hefty sum, poor Nancy and her hotel would be swarmed and it would be up and on to the next place to try and lie low. You’re bored and bored is dangerous.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, stretching out your back before you stand, slip your shoes on and open the door. You look up and down the hall, quiet, no sign of Rob, head of the security detail you’d been given following your divorce. It would have been nice of them if it hadn’t been a way to keep an eye on you. You knew Rob was giving updates to the people back at home.

You lightly pad down the hallway once the door to your room is closed, taking the steps down to the reception quickly, stepping on your tiptoes until your hand traces over the front reception desk, Nancy immediately looking up from her papers.

“Your Highness.” Has become the greeting, with a slight curtsey, it’s wrong, but it doesn’t really matter anymore does it?

“Can I get you anything?”

You smile at her, leaning your elbows on the reception desk, cheek resting on one of your palms.

“Well, Nancy, I’d love some of those peaches from a few days ago, do you still have any?”

You watch as her expression drops, her skin tone draining like she’d made the biggest faux pas possible.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” She gasps, “You liked ‘em so much we used ‘em all making dessert for tonight.”

“Sounds delicious,” You smile, big and broad, charming, “What are we having?”

“My famous peach pie,” Nancy taps the side of her nose, “My mama’s recipe.”

“With ice cream?” You ask, adding a wink at the end.

“Anything for you,” Then she adds, “I can send out for more peaches if you’d like them.”

You think for a moment, because they really are delicious, especially warmed from the sun where they’ve just been freshly picked, “Where do you get them?”

“Oh, at the Miller ranch, it’s a little way out of town, but he’s famous for them.”

“You know, I might go and get them myself.”

Joel Miller scoffs into his coffee as his eyes scan the front page of the newspaper. Scandal-hit Princess in USA. He knew she was here. The town was abuzz with gossip that Nancy, owner of the nicest, fanciest hotel in town, was hosting her. Cleared out the entire top floor of rooms just for her. Restaurant closed whenever she wanted to eat. Someone had driven up to his ranch three days ago, asked for a boxes of peaches for her. Her favourite fruit apparently. He’d handed them over without much thought, asked for the usual price and then found himself with a very generous tip, folded into the back pocket of his jeans. He looks at the grainy photograph on the front page, taken through the window of the hotel, Princess sitting pretty, head down looking at the table. The photo is grainy, definitely not the best paparazzi work he’s seen splashed across the front page, but it’s enough to see her hand on the back of her neck and the hunch of her shoulders, trying to make herself look smaller than she is.

It’s a far cry from the woman he’d seen on the TV two years ago. It had been madness in his mind, that the entire world had ground to a halt to watch two people get married. Sarah had insisted that they all sit and watch it together, and he had thought Ellie would have his back, but she was just as enthralled watching her walk down the aisle. Weirdly, he remembers the dress, the white tulle, short lace sleeves, something sparkly peppered through the material, catching the light when she walks. But what he remembers more than anything, is her smile. The way she beamed when she was handed over, hand slipped into her soon-to-be husbands. It’s strange that divorce touches everyone, and no matter how big you smile, it’s always hiding something under the surface.

He looks briefly to his watch, realising he’s late for feeding and those sheep are going to give him hell if he doesn’t feed them soon. He downs the rest of his coffee, shoves the newspaper into the recycling box, he doesn’t really read it anyway, even when the news isn’t splashed from cover to cover with gossip about what that damn princess did or didn’t do, so he’s definitely not going to indulge it now, and then he’s out into the truck and heading down to the barn to stock up on feed.

It’s a strange world to him, this ranch life. For as long as he could remember he’s wanted to do it. Maybe it’s the solitude it offers him, the way he can finally think for himself after years of raising his daughters. Maybe it’s the way that unlike his daughters, his flock of sheep tend to do what they’re told, unless it’s this morning and he’s twenty minutes late to feed them, then they’d gather around his legs, bleating senselessly until he drops their feed onto the ground to appease them. What he really thinks is that it gives him a purpose. He grows fruit, peaches mainly, but a few other crops, that he gives to Nancy down at the hotel, or offers to Steven who owns the bakery, fruit that feeds his community. He shears his sheep, gives their wool to Betty and Ines to make clothes with. Sat out here, on the fringes of town, with more land and space than he knows what to do with, an empty house no longer filled with his daughters, this place gives him a reason to get up each morning. They all need him in some small way.

Once he’s finished with his morning chores - feeding the sheep, plucking the ripe peaches from his trees into crates, fixing up some of the fences that a few of the more boisterous sheep had knocked over and serviced the small tractor in the barn - he jumps back in his truck, the warm Austin sun, blazing at midday, licking at his skin, bringing sweat beading across his body, and goes back to the house. He’s just stepping out of the truck, rubbing his dirty hands with a rag from his back pocket, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck, when he notices a car pulling in to the bottom of his driveway, driving slowly up to come to a stop at the front porch of his house.

As he rounds his truck, he can see that the car is nicer than anything he’s ever seen in town. Sleek black, clean as a whistle, windows dark so he can’t see into them. It sits idling on his driveway until he climbs the steps at the back of the house, rounds the porch and stands at the top of the steps, leaning against the side of the stairs, fingers looped in one of his belt loops.

The front passenger door opens and bulking man gets out, sunglasses over his eyes, black t-shirt and jeans and a bald head. He nods at Joel, one of those classic nods that men understand when they give each other, then he opens the back door wide. Joel sees one leg step out of the car, then another, long, loose-fitting white trousers, then the rest of the body comes into view. He can’t quite believe it when he realises the person standing in front of him, pushing her sunglasses onto her head so she can look right at him, is the same person from the front page of the newspaper. The People’s Princess herself.

“Joel Miller?” She asks, voice sweet, lilting, as she holds out her hand for him to shake when she’s stood close enough to him.

He looks down at her hand - perfectly manicured, soft, by the looks of things, never seen a day of work in their lives - then looks at his, bigger, covered in filth, hard and calloused, definitely not the kind of hand she wants to be shaking. He thinks this must be muscle memory for her, the only work she knows how to do is hold out her hand and talk nice to people.

“I gotta bow or somethin’?’

She smirks at him, drops her hand, “I don’t think that’s necessary these days.”

“Can I help you?”

“Well,” She starts, voice sweet and peppy enough to start to annoy him, “I’ve been eating these peaches since I got here, the sweetest, juiciest I’ve ever eaten, and we’ve run out,” She brings a foot up to rest on the bottom step, Joel immediately stepping forward to stop her coming any closer into his bubble, “And I’ve been told you grow them, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” She tilts her head, “Might I buy some more?”

“How many d’ya want?”

“A crate, please, if you have enough to spare.”

Joel spins on his feet, takes heavy footsteps back around the house to his truck, picks up the crate of peaches he just picked, the one with the most fruit in it and makes his way back to the front of the house where the Princess is still waiting.

He offers her the crate, holding it out in his hands. He watches as she turns to the man who opened her door for her, nods her head towards the crate, watches as he takes it from Joel. She stands up on her tiptoes as the crate passes her, plucks one of the peaches from the top.

She looks at Joel, right in his eyes as she bites into the fruit, obscene slurping sound in the air as she sucks the juice into her mouth, bringing a finger up to catch the drops that fall onto her chin, making sure she doesn’t drip it onto her pristine white suit.

“How do you grow them to be so perfect?” She asks, taking another bite from her peach, teeth dragging through the delicate skin.

“Plenty of sun,” Joel shrugs, “Good soil.”

She hums, nods her head in agreement, “Well, thank you for these,” She turns back to the man who has just put the crate in the boot of the car, nodding at him, “I’m sure I’ll be back for more.”

The man offers Joel some money, enough for at least three crates of peaches, but he finds he doesn’t argue, takes it like he did the first lot, slips it into his back pocket. He doesn’t wait for the car to leave, just turns on his heel, heads into his home, praying that her promise to come back was an empty one - if there’s one thing that Joel needs less than a hole in the head right now, it’s a hoity Princess sniffing around.

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