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subbmissivesuccubus · 7 months

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Bully- Part 1

Summary: Your bully's, Gojo and Geto, find out an embarrassing secret of yours and will never let you live it down. But maybe, you don't want them to.

Disclaimer: 18+ fic. Gojo X Fem reader X Geto. Humiliation kink. Free use kink. Gojo and Geto being mean. Bully Geto and Gojo. Dub-con warning. It is subtly implied that reader wants and enjoys what's happening to her, but the boys don't care to ask for consent.

a/n: Sorry it took so long wah but here's part one to the series. I plan to write many more cause damn it is so fun haha. I promise, the next part will have all the gratuitous smut and ruthless fucking this premise deserves. Consider this an appetizer <3

Taglist: @bisexuawolfsalt @candycandy00 @nekonanamii @sirimiripetrichor @collectionofdolls @dreamsxmerci

You sighed as you walked towards your classroom, dragging your feet, knowing full well what was waiting for you. It was the end of the day and it was your turn to clean up the classroom and just your luck- you were paired up with the two people you couldn't stand.

Gojo and Geto. The two 'strongest' sorcerers of your school. Their reputation preceded them. One of them was the prodigal son of a famous family with a deadly technique while the other had an incredibly useful and powerful skill as well. Everyone disliked them to some extent, but nobody could deny that the Jujutsu world would be worse without them.

Which is why it always confused you as to why these two powerful men seemed to love bullying you.

They were never malicious but damn if they weren't annoying. They loved to tease and prank you, joking about how weak you were and how you couldn't do anything by yourself. Forget the fact that you were actually quite strong and capable- but compared to them- everyone was weak.

But they seemed to enjoy bullying you especially even if there were classmates who were of lower grade than you. Stealing your drink right before you were going to take it from the vending machine, taking unflattering pictures of you and distributing it, embarrassing you in front of strangers by treating you like a dumb baby in front of them, making loud sex noises if you were on the phone with someone, tossing away your books and stealing your money-

Gojo spanking your ass casually a few times, Geto licking off some chocolate that was smeared next to your lips like it was a normal thing to do and even that one time when they cornered you in the hallway and convinced you to let them grope your boobs:

"If you let us squeeze your tits, we'll leave you alone for a week~" Gojo had said, wangling his fingers comically as they both stared at your chest like perverts. The offer was too good to give up which led to them squeezing your clothed tits for ten second each before they left, laughing at how easy it was to use you. And of course, they continued to bother you anyway.

You could have made a complaint to the higher ups about their behavior, something your friends have told you to do but you refused. You didn't want to be the wuss who was running to the elders over something so childish when everyone has an important job to do. Dealing with some bullying was easy compared to fighting to the death with some curses.

Besides, if you reported on them...

You steeled yourself before opening to the door to the classroom, met with the sight you expected: Gojo and Geto, lounging around, not doing any work as they waited for you to do it for them because, in their words: 'the weaklings need to put in more effort'.

But what you were not expecting to see was your phone in Gojo's hand using earplugs that he had connected to the device. You knew you left your phone in the locker assigned to you in the hallways which meant these two managed to pick the lock and take it. But the anger over that was dwarfed by your sudden realization:

The way they were looking at you as you closed the door, giving you a shocked look but you could tell there was an underlying hint of pure glee.

Uh oh.

"Give me back my-"

You yelped as Geto suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, barely giving you a second to collect yourself before he wrapped his arms around your neck, catching you in a choke-hold. Before you could even react, he pulled your back against him and manhandled you as he sat on a classroom bench and forced you to sit between his legs, wrapping said legs around you. You were completely caught, your nails doing nothing even as you dug it into his arms.

"Holy fuck!" Gojo explained, eyes wide and a huge grin on his face as he continued to listen to the audio on your phone, looking over at you and Geto opposite of the table he was sitting on, "You're a perverted freak, aren't you?"

"Give it back!" you snapped, grunting in annoyance as you tried to break out of Geto's hold but the man simply laughed as he held you tighter, his legs not budging.

"This is some nasty stuff!" Gojo continued, "Who knew a weakling like you would be such a masochistic slut~" he removed the earbuds from the socket and increased the volume as he confirmed what you had feared:

"Yeah? you like that don't you? Little slut~" a man's voice echoed throughout the room from your phone speakers, "Everybody looking at you as I fuck this sloppy little pussy~ Oh this cunt is dripping for me- did you like being spanked in front of them so much?"

It was an erotic audio you had saved on your phone, one of many that you enjoyed in private. You had even saved it under non-suspicious names which meant that the boys were digging through your files to find something- and they did.

"This isn't even the only one we heard, you know." Gojo explained as he dangled the phone in front of you mockingly, "What was it again? A girl getting humiliated by her teacher in front of her classmates-"

"A girl getting groped by her boyfriend on a crowded train." Geto recollected, his lips so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath dance against your skin.

"Being used as a free-use toy by a group of guys~" Gojo said, a giant shit eating grin on his face, "Seems like this one has a humiliation kink~"

"I'm not surprised." Geto said, leaning into your ear and blowing into it, making you gasp and jump, "No wonder she never reported us to the principle for all the times we preyed on her. She was probably enjoying it."

"Oh!" Gojo said like he just realized it, "Was that why? Was your pussy growing wet every time we bullied you, little slut?"

"Fuck you." you spat out, both of the men laughing in response.

"Yeah, I bet you wanted us to fuck you." Geto growled into your ear, your shiver not going unnoticed by him, "You're fucking loving this~"

"Why don't we check?" Gojo suggested, cutting off anything you might have said, his hands inching towards your belt, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "Let's see for ourselves if we made your pussy wet~"

"Gojo-"

"That's a great plan!" Geto interrupted, laughing as he tightened his hold your your neck, making you gasp, "Take those pants off. So baggy and loose- what a waste of a nice ass."

"I agree." Gojo said, finger now running over the metal of your belt, "it hides so much. With what I felt everytime I've spanked you- your pants do you no favors."

"Don't you- fucking dare!" You choked out, face turning slightly red from the lack of air and from Gojo slowly starting to fiddle with your belt.

"Oh, what are you gonna do about it, little slut?" Gojo teased, licking his lips as his long, lithe fingers started to tug at the leather of your belt, "Look at your fucking face- that look in your eyes? You're loving this."

"No- I'm not- fuck-" you sputtered out, failing to convey your frustrations. You couldn't stand these two assholes. Constantly picking on you and thinking they were so high and mighty- treating you like a bug on their path. So smug and narcissistic and not caring about anyone but themselves-

But as much as you'd hate to admit it, you couldn't deny that your body was throbbing. Everytime they bullied you, you felt that heat. Your heart-rate quickened and your pussy would grow wet, leaving you a confused mess every-time you got bullied. When it first happened, you didn't understand what was happening. Through some internet searching, you found those audios and realized you weren't the only one out there.

A masochist with a humiliation kink.

And without them knowing, the two guys you hate were fulfilling those fantasies for you.

Well now, they were more than aware.

"Come on, little bitch~" Geto cooed into your ear, his silky voice making you shudder, "Why settle with these audios when you can experience the real thing?"

"I...I..." you panted, heat rushing to your face and your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel your pussy dampen and had no doubt that if Gojo actually took your pants off, they'd see you be wet and needy.

"Too slow~" Gojo suddenly said, unbuckling your belt in a matter of seconds before ripping it off of you just as fast, throwing it aside. You yelped as you instinctively struggled, Geto laughing behind you as he tightened his hold on you even more, rendering you helpless. Gojo laughed as well, his bright blue eyes peeking from behind his glasses as you could see the gleam of excitement in them.

"You excited, little bitch?" Gojo cooed, licking his lips as his hands started trailing up your leg, running over the fabric of your pants as he inched up higher and higher. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, a rush of heat coursing through you.

"He asked you a question." Geto said, clicking his tongue as you refused to say anything, "Weren't you taught any manners?"

"Fucking- i'll kill you-" you gasped out, face growing redder as you heard Geto's growl of annoyance, feeling the vibration of his chest against your back. "Don't worry about it, Suguru." Gojo said, smirking as he started undoing the buttons of your pants, "We can punish her later for her disrespect. For now, I just want to get at this pussy~"

With a big grin, Gojo ripped your pants off of you in one fell swoop, making you squeal as he tossed it away. You shivered as your bare legs were exposed to the evening air as well as their lecherous stares. You could see Gojo's eyes trail up your legs before zoning in on your clothed pussy, the man letting out a snort as he took in your panties.

"Pink with a bow on? Really?" he joked, "how plain and not sexy."

"I think they're cute." Geto chimed in, also shamelessly staring down at your clothed cunt, "But it doesn't matter. It's not going to be on her for long, anyway."

"True." Gojo said with a nod as he hooked his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it out before letting go, allowing the elastic to slap back against you, "but next time, wear something sexier."

"I hate you- so much!" you snarled, face bright red, biting your lower lip as the white haired man looped his fingers back into the waistband of your panties, this time, very obviously wanting to get it off of you. You gasped, unable to stop your shivers as Gojo leaned forward and placed a kiss on your tummy, his tongue peeking out to lick at your skin as he slowly starting pulling your panties down. He laughed as you tried to squiggle out but your movements only made the slide of your panties all the more easier for him.

"Look at that~" Gojo gasped as your cunt got exposed, practically drooling as he stared like a pervert, a twinkle behind his blue eyes, "You might be a weakling but atleast you have a pretty pussy."

"Atleast she's good for something~" Geto teased, shuffling behind you and in that moment, you felt it. Something long, hard and thick pressed up against your back and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that was. You gulped as you felt the imprint of Geto's cock against you, unable to help yourself as your eyes darted towards the front of Gojo's pants and sure enough: His erection was straining against it.

They were too focused on your cunt to notice where you were looking and you were too focused on their dicks to notice that your panties were now completely off and that Gojo had tossed the fabric aside. Geto immediately hooked his legs over your own before forcefully spreading them apart, leaving you wide and exposed to their perverted gazes. Gojo let out a whistle as he dragged a chair over before sitting on it, his face now right across your bare cunt.

"Fuck- fuck you- fuck you!" you gasped out and cursed, feeling lightheaded from the situation. "How does she look?" Geto asked, both of them ignoring you and you could hear the hunger in his voice and the sensation of his cock twitching against you. "Oh, she's perfect~" Gojo responded and you knew they were referring to your pussy as its own person- somehow giving it more praise and respect than they've ever given you, "And oh so wet~"

"I want to see." Geto demanded, not having the same view as Gojo, "Can't let you have all the fun."

"Sure thing, pal." Gojo said, not taking his eyes off of your pussy as he continued to stare, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Gojo- don't you dare-" You barked out, understanding what he was going to do- but what you hoped sounded aggressive came out soft and subservient. The man simply snorted in response, ignoring your pleas as he opened up his phone camera and started taking pictures of your pussy. You shut your eyes and squealed everytime you heard the shutter of the camera, trembling body still held tightly in Geto's arms.

"Her hole clenches every-time I take a picture~" Gojo cooed, bringing a hand up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart even more, making your back arch against Geto, "And look at this little clit! So fucking cute!"

"Just show it to me already!" Geto snarled, impatient. "Alright, alright." Gojo responded with a roll of his eyes, standing up before turning the phone towards the two of you, a shot of your spread pussy on screen. You turned your head away and closed your eyes, ears ringing at how humiliated you felt-

and pussy dripping at how good it was.

"Oh, she does look delicious!" Geto praised, gripping your chin as he forced you to turn your head back towards the phone, making you look at the picture, "You have such a pretty cunt and you hid it from us for so long?"

You whined cutely as you looked at the picture- a closeup shot of your spread cunt with a clear view of your clit and hole, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Seriously!" Gojo barked as he started swiping, showing off the various photos of your pussy that were now in his possession, "If we knew all you wanted was some fucking, we'd have pounded this pussy ages ago! I've always wanted a sex toy."

"Don't you have like a dozen already?"

"Yeah, but I'm sure this bitch's cunt will feel way better than some silicone~"

"I hate you-" you gasped out, any and all fight leaving your bones (not that there was much to begin with) as you leaned your head against Geto's shoulder, "I hate you both- so much-"

"Yeah?" Geto asked, the tone in his voice clearly indicating that he wasn't taking you seriously, "Well, this pussy says otherwise."

He let go of your chin and snaked his hand down quickly to cup your pussy, making you yelp. You didn't know if what you felt was shame or relief that there was finally a hand on your cunt- finally some friction against your dripping womanhood. You tossed your head back, eyebrows furrowed and lip trapped under your teeth as Geto's long fingers started gliding through your pussy lips. The slick sound of him rubbing circles over your hole and collecting your wetness echoed through the room, the sound making your ears burn and your chest feel like it was on fire.

This is was so...so...

so fucking fun...

"She's loving this~" Gojo predicted accurately, eyes darting between your blissful expression and Geto's fingers toying with your body, "Fucking whore- slutty bitch- oh, we are going to have fun with you~"

"Her pussy is growing wetter by the second." Geto noted, cock fully erect and throbbing against you, his other arm slowly letting go of the hold around your neck, confident that you were going to stay right there like a good little girl. You gasped as the head spinning pressure was finally off of you, taking in a few deep breaths but choking on it just as quickly as the man started using his slick covered fingers to run circles over your clit.

"You're dripping all over the table, little bitch~" Gojo teased, taking a couple more pictures before pocketing it, "Fuck- let me feel too- or- actually-"

He sat back on the chair, pulling it closer before gripping your thighs, an eager grin on his face:

"I'm gonna eat~"

"Get used to this, little bitch." Geto growled into your ear, pulling his hand away from your cunt and snickering at your whine of disappointment, "You're our toy now and we are going to do whatever we want to you, understand?"

His hands came upto your chest, lithe fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt one by one, revealing a patch of skin before the peeks of your bra. Gojo licked his lips and moved forward, his hot breath fanning against your slick cunt.

"Whatever. We. Want."

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cleo-fox · 4 months

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Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable.

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest.

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x you smut #loki x yn smut #loki imagine

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the-travelling-witch · 7 months

Text

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Accidentally matching outfits x Koko

You swear it’s a coincidence when you show up to your date spot matching Koko’s outfit of the day. But then again, your boyfriend has always insisted on gifting you outfits and accessories, so is it really a surprise you mirrored his style without noticing? That still doesn’t stop your cheeks from warming when he takes your hand and leads you inside, a small smile playing around his lips.

Carrying your bags x Inui

Inui is a gentleman all around but one thing he never fails to do is carry your bags for you. Usually, he asks beforehand if he should take them from you -even though he hardly accepts ‘no’ as an answer- but if he can tell you’re struggling with the weight he’s rather adamant about it. His beautiful partner shouldn’t strain themselves and he can easily handle it, so please let him do this. (Inui also rocks carrying your purse, it might as well be his.)

Weird nicknames in each other’s contacts x Ran

It’s almost as if you’re in a secret relationship, that’s how abstruse your names for the other are. If your friend ever looks at your phone when you ask them to read out a message, you can basically hear the confusion in their voice. There’s also a pretty high chance the contact name is accompanied by a picture that’s just as unflattering, probably taken when you were taken off guard. Well, at least both of you know you’re not in it for the other’s looks.

Walking on the side of the road x Draken

Draken is your protector through and through. Not only does your knight in shining armour catch bugs for you without a fuss and order your food as well if you’re too shy to, he also always makes sure to walk on the side of the road where the cars drive. Whenever you change streets or directions, he quickly switches to your other side, not letting your hand go for too long. You’re not sure if it makes a difference at all but the gesture is sweet nonetheless.

Laughing ‘til your cheeks hurt x Chifuyu

Nevermind if you’re grown adults, Chifuyu and you can still be as silly as children. At times, you’re literally the most unserious pair ever, giggling and holding your stomachs because of a stupid pun one of you told. Sitting at home on a night in, wiping the tears from your eyes and holding your hurting cheeks as you gasp for air, just to start laughing again when you remember the situation five minutes later.

Flour fight during a baking session x Mitsuya

Neither of you are about wasting food, just making that clear. But when you’re standing side by side in front of the kitchen counter, the oven preheating in the background and Mitsuya rolling the dough to then press into your cake form, you just can’t help yourself. Some leftover from the filling you prepared sticks to your hand and before you know it, you’re wiping it against your boyfriend’s cheek, giggling as you go. But Mitsuya only looks shocked for a second before he grins and wraps his flour-covered hands around your waist before you can get away.

Waking up tangled together x Rindou

It’s a calm night in, the take-out boxes still sitting on the coffee table in front of you as you snuggle in the corner of the couch, not really paying attention to the film anymore. And neither is Rindou, judging by how he yawns from the other side of the couch, his legs crossing with yours as he sinks deeper into the cushions. By the time both of you wake up again, your respective spaces of the couch have been abandoned in order to tangle yourself together bretzel-style, with your cheek squished against his biceps and his hand somewhere under the back of your shirt.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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catcze · 7 months

Note

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #also !! thank you so much for loving my works ily ♡♡

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devildomditzy · 11 months

Note

"Wait, am I your lock screen?" + mammon + 🫣⛈️

His habit of keeping his phone away from you an out of your reach was one you mildly questioned, but ultimately learned to ignore. You figured the second born had something he wanted to keep private, possibly his latest failing stocks, or demanding texts from witches looking for compensation for his less than savory activities.

You ignored it, up until you turned to corner into the student council room, ears picking up several voices loudly talking over each other. Knowing this can only mean one thing, you prepare yourself to become Mammon’s attorney before walking in yourself.

“Ooo my! If it isn’t the person of the hour!”, Asmo coos from his chair, leaning over the edge of the table. “We were just talking about you, hun!”

“Talking about me?”, you ask, eyes circling around the room in both curiosity and confusion. You lock eyes with your first pact mate to ask a silent question, only to find him blushing furiously, attempting to simmer down from something that had just clearly upset him. He locks eyes with you for a brief moment before quickly averting his gaze.

Well, that’s typical. What wasn’t typical was the teasing stares of everyone else in the room, now centered on you.

“Well, we were just finishing up a student council meeting,”Asmo continues. “And you know how Lucifer always takes our D.D.D.’s before hand?”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with me?”

“Getting there, darling!”

You once again shift your eyes over to Mammon, who seemed to be having an internal battle with himself. One minute, it looked like he was going to bolt out of the room, the next it seemed he was so frustrated with his brothers that he was choosing to stand his ground.

“Lucifer starting passing them back out afterwards, and I noticed the cutest thing displaying on my dear older brother’s phone!”, Asmo finishes, bringing his cupped hands up to his face, almost as if he was looking at a newborn kitten.

“ROLF, this is super normie of him”, Levi chimes in, not looking up from his game, but still smiling to himself like he had just been told the funniest joke.

“I have to say, I know how idiotic you can be, but I didn’t expect you to display something you vehemently try to hide so prominently.” The smirk on Satan’s face makes you feel uneasy.

You hear a distinct tch come from the direction of the second born, who you now notice was clutching his D.D.D very close to his chest, with his grip tight around it. Like, real tight. Like, his knuckles are going white and you think he might break it tight.

Your eyes jump from brother to brother in confusion. “What are you talking about?”.

Asmo’s grin becomes lethal as he turns back to Mammon. “Weeelllll, go on Mammon. Do you want to tell them, or shall I?”.

You watch as Mammon turns redder somehow, if that was even possible, and starts to stutter. “I-it’s none of your business, okay?”

“Ooohh I beg to differ! I’d think a picture of our dear, dear MC is specifically their business!”, Asmo taunts in a sing song voice.

“A picture of me.. did you like, take an embarrassing picture of me or something?”, you question. Honestly, as much as you love the idiot, you wouldn’t put it above Mammon to blackmail you with an unflattering photo of yourself.

“N-no! It’s not you! I-I mean it is you but it’s not embarrassin’ or anythin’!”.

Oh the poor boy, he looks like he’s going to combust.

“Tick tock!”, Asmo once again pressures him to spit it out.

Mammon shuts his eyes as tight as they can go, and takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to say it before anyone else can-

Beel pipes up from where he’s been quietly munching on some hell newt chips.

“Why does it matter if MC’s his lockscreen?”

Ah. There it is. You watch all the color drain from Mammon’s face. He tenses up, his body language screaming ‘panic’.

“Wait, am I your lockscreen”, you question, hoping he notices your voice doesn’t hold an ounce of teasing, but instead genuine fondness.

His eyes remain trained on the table, his mouth drawn into a tight line, but he stiffly shakes his head in a confirming nod.

“Can I see?”

Mammon slides his D.D.D across the table to where you stand. Clicking on the screen, you see picture of yourself at Devil’s Coast. You’re turned to the side, not quite looking at the camera, but laughing brightly at something. The ferris wheel framed in the background of the shot makes the candid look like something out of a movie. Then it hits you - you’ve. never seen this picture before.

He must have taken it when you weren’t looking.

As laughter erupts throughout the room from his brothers, he’s shocked to not hear yours mixed in with the cacophony l. Instead when you speak, it makes the room go dead silent.

“Mammon… that is so sweet!”, and he can hear the smile in your voice as you run around the table to hand him your own. “Here, look at mine.”

He hesitates for a second, looking up at you for confirmation before taking it. Clicking on the screen, he stares back at a picture of himself. He’s in one of the outfits he wore for Devil Style, so this is definitely from his last shoot, but… this wasn’t professional by any means. It was clearly taken by you, a little shaky and a bit out of center frame, but you must have snapped a picture of him between sets.

And even more so - he’s shirtless in it.

“Ha…HA!”, Mammon exclaims, proudly showing the screen to each and everyone of his brothers. “See that? Of course MC’s got a picture of The Great Mammon as their lockscreen! Makes sense since I’m their first and their favorite!”

“Uggghh, gross”, groans Levi as he stands up to leave, “I knew I should have just went to my room.”

“Aww, MC, why not a picture of me?!”, whines Asmo as he drapes himself over your shoulders, much to Mammon’s annoyance.

“I can’t say that’s a sight I’d want see every time I have to take a phone call”, Satan says all snide and - you’ve had it.

Time to shut them all up.

“Of course I’d want a picture of Mammon as my lock screen. He is my boyfriend after all.”

“WHAT!?”, you hear all the voices in the room cry out at once.

“I am? I-I mean, of course I am! Ya hear that? MC’s taken by The Great Mammon! So all of ya better back off, ya got it?!”

You giggle at his bravado and the looks of disgust and disappointment on the remaining faces in the room, leaning down to kiss his cheek to really drive the point home.

Oh. Looks like he can get redder.

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tzuberry · 10 months

Text

zerobaseone maknae line as tropes / cliches ૮ • ﻌ - ა

pairing shen quanrui (ricky), kim gyuvin, park gunwook, han yujin + gn reader⠀⠀⠀details fluff, slight angst in ricky’s and gunwook’s, bulletpoint and written

cw getting stood up, mention of lipstick use in ricky’s ⠀⠀⠀wc 738 696 604 802 respectively (2840 in total)⠀⠀⠀reading time 22 min

note title kinda misleading TBH... havent written on tumblr in a while, so this is a new account and my first post! im hoping this doesnt flop :( i loved writing this so much, so if it flops i might just repost it ... idk.. likes and reblogs are appreciated !!! (only if u want to ofc 🤞🏻)

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ricky 리키

blind date... but you got stood up, and ricky is your best friend

it’s not that you really wanted to go on a date, it’s that your friend assured you this was the perfect guy for you

and your friend swore, cross their heart, that you would not regret letting them set you up

but now you’re sitting at a table alone, with pitiful looks being thrown your way by the restaurant staff and the other groups of people around you and it’s clear to you; you do regret it, and this is the last time you’ll let anyone other than yourself handle your love life

after compulsorily buying a meal for yourself so as to not leave the place empty handed, you slowly chew on your food, wondering where it went wrong

did he see a picture of you and decided that was it? did he hear a story about you that was just unflattering? what was it about you that made them turn around and away from the restaurant—away from you?

in the midst of all this, your phone emits a ding! sound. you’re not doing anything important, so you see it fit to check the notification

ricky 😡🐱: how’s your date going?

terribly. but that’s a little embarrassing to admit, especially to ricky...

yn: good! i’ll text you later

you lay your phone down on the table and pick up your utensils once again to finish your meal, but a shadow casting over your plate interrupts you

“why are you alone, then?”

When you follow the voice (and the shadow), Ricky is standing next to your table, his phone in hand with the screen open on your text thread. He turns it off with a swift click of the power button, and he takes the space on the other side of the table where your date should have been.

You don’t know how to respond. You’re embarrassed; a second ago, you were alone at a restaurant filled with people, and now, your best friend has caught you lying to him about being at said restaurant alone.

“What happened?” Ricky asks as his arm makes its way across the table to your glass of water. He lifts it to his lips, taking a sip and placing it back down. He looks genuinely concerned, maybe even a little pissed, but all you can focus on is how your lipstick stain is on the rim of the cup, and how he drank from that same spot.

You shake your head. “I, um,” you pause, pursing your lips and trying to find a good enough (fake) reason. “Nothing. I didn’t like him, and he said he had other plans, so I just let him go.”

Ricky furrows his eyebrows at that. It’s a very visible sign of incredulity; he doesn’t believe your lie. Nevertheless, he simply shrugs it off. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you reply, still dealing with the aftereffects of being stood up. You poke your fork at the food before you; a lost appetite and an expensive meal don’t mix well.

Ricky leans forward, letting his forearms rest on the surface of the table. He’s looking at you so seriously, analyzing your every move. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, attempting to come off as teasing, but he only waves you off. “I just want to look at you.”

You feel yourself practically melt under his gaze, but you ignore it. This is Ricky, your best friend... nothing more. Right. This is Ricky—you should tell him the truth about why you’re alone.

“He didn’t come,” you admit. “I wasn’t super excited about this date, but I thought– I thought I would at least go on a date. This is... nothing. I was here by myself before you got here.”

There’s a pained glint in his eyes. Is he feeling sorry for you? Maybe you do deserve all the pity you’ve gotten today. He gulps, keeping eye contact with you while biting on a small portion of his bottom lip.

After a while, he sighs. “Come on.”

Ricky begins to stand up, stuffing his phone into his pocket before you hold him back by the wrist. “What?” you question.

“We’ll go do something else,” he says with a bob of his head. Your grasp on his wrist somehow turns into your hands being interlocked. “Let me take you on a date. I’ve always wanted to, and I promise I won’t screw it up.”

gyuvin 규빈

boy next door who you’ve always had feelings for, you just never thought of him liking you back

you’ve always liked kim gyuvin

from the moment his family moved in next to your house, with his bedroom parallel to yours

you could see everything through his window; who he was, what his hobbies were, what he admired, and how he acted with his friends

this all made him seem... unattainable. you felt like you were the audience for a show, and gyuvin was the actor

it didn’t help that you went to the same school, and to further that, he was immensely popular

it was obvious. how could you expect that someone like him wouldn’t be? he’s tall, cute, extroverted, funny and kind—the entire package, if you would say so yourself

you weren’t totally unpopular. you had your fair share of friends, a few social circles that you hung out with. but gyuvin seemed too out of reach for you, even if he was your neighbor

the singular interaction you’ve had was when he came over to ask for sugar. it went like this: “hi!” “hi?” “i was baking, and i kind of ran out of brown sugar. do you maybe... uh...” “oh, sugar? wait, i think i do, hold on.”

it was that awkward. so when your mother told you she became new friends with gyuvin’s mom and wanted to have dinner at their house as a family, you freaked

but it’s not like you can say no, so you found yourself at the kims’ door a few days later

“Hi! You must be [Name]. I’ve seen you around, and I’ve heard about you from Gyuvin, but you’re much prettier up close! I know who you get your looks from,” Mrs Kim says, winking at your mother.

“You’re too kind, your son is very polite, and...”

You tune their conversation out—did she say she’s heard about you from Gyuvin? Why would he be talking about you?

Your mom finishes it (whatever she was talking about) off with, “They’d be perfect together, don’t you think?” Mrs Kim nods vigorously, then pats you twice on the shoulder. “[Name], maybe you would want to go spend some time with Gyuvin first? I’m afraid dinner isn’t ready, there’s still a long way... I’ll call you both down when it is. He’s up in his room.”

You bow, excusing yourself and obligingly treading up the stairs. This is the second time you’re about to interact with him—you better not mess up.

On the final step of the staircase, you start to hear talking from one of the bedrooms. From where you stand, it’s not clear where its origin is, and so you try to listen for the voice. It leads you to a slightly open door, and holy shit—this is Gyuvin’s door.

“They’re coming over today, and, ugh, I don’t know,” he rants. Is that about you? It has to be. Who else is coming over? You move closer to the door frame, nearly peeking your head in. “I just– I don’t know how to talk to them! Last time, I went over to ask if they wanted to hang out and...” he trails off, the regret evident in his tone. “I asked for sugar. To bake.” Oh my god. This is about you.

You take another step, risking the possibility of the door creaking. “I don’t even bake! I came home with sugar and my mom asked why and I just said I found some on the street.” He sighs, exasperated. You inch even closer, toying with the chances of him catching you eavesdropping, when... creak. At the same time, Gyuvin’s rant is cut short. “Gunwook, you have to help me, I can’t be an idiot in front of them–”

His head snaps towards the door, where you are, standing and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly hangs up, bidding Gunwook a hushed goodbye through the microphone. “How much of that did you hear?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, flattered and shy at the same time. “I think... all of it.”

Gyuvin’s hand raises to cup his nape, and he gives you the most endearing yet bashful smile. “Would you, maybe, um, wanna hang out sometime? With me, of course...”

gunwook 건욱

friends to lovers, and everyone is sure you both like each other but all you do is deny it

you know gunwook like the back of your hand

although you met a little over a year ago, he quickly became a constant in your life, especially because you saw him everyday at school

he would wait outside your class, eat lunch with you, walk you home (and sometimes to school in the mornings), help you with homework even though he’s always busy with all the extracurriculars he participates in, and additionally schedules weekly study sessions together

this led countless people to think you were dating, even though you’re really not

you deny it, making a gesture with your hands indicating the negative. “we’re just friends, he would never be my boyfriend,” you laugh it off. gunwook tenses up, and the corners of his lips suddenly become downturned. “yeah, we’re just friends...” he agrees, sounding somewhat unsure

that’s what happens every single time someone mistakes you for a couple. you’re the first to refuse that assumption, while gunwook just follows your lead

you thought, “hey, maybe he’s just shy around the topic of dating.” and so you don’t push it, or even ask about what he thinks of the rumors surrounding you two

at this week’s study session, which he scheduled at his house, he can’t focus

repeatedly tapping his pen and running his fingers through his hair—doing anything but his homework, really—he doesn’t even spare you a glance

and so you take the responsibility upon yourself to ask. “is something bothering you?”

Gunwook sighs, looking as if he’s internally debating the pros and cons of unloading his baggage onto you. His eyes dart around his room, from the door, to the desk, to the bed, and finally to you, before he swipes his tongue between his lips and lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

You drop your pen. Why does he seem so conflicted?

Readjusting your position on the bed to face him, you lean closer to Gunwook as you shove your school books and other materials out of the way. “You can ask me anything,” you say, determined to comfort your friend.

He visibly hesitates, biting his bottom lip. He’s still not looking at you, and not so much as a second is allotted for one glimpse. “Do you...” he pauses, trying to muster the courage. “Do you really think of me as just a friend?”

The question almost makes your jaw drop to the floor. What does he mean by that? Sure, you did have a short-lived crush on him when you first got acquainted, but it faded instantaneously. You didn’t know you could be anything more—you thought you had no chance with a guy like him, so your feelings were trivial to you.

Tilting your head, you reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Gunwook shrugs, also following your actions and pushing all his textbooks away. “I guess– oh my god, this sounds stupid, but,” he groans, “I’ve liked you since last year, since before we even became friends. And whenever someone asks if I’m your boyfriend, you just– you immediately say no.”

He... likes you? You’re dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth actually agape this time. You’re certain your cheeks are red, judging from the heat you feel rush up to your face.

At your silence, he continues. “I know it’s stupid. I didn’t just become friends with you because I like you, it’s more than that, but everytime you say I could never be your boyfriend or something like that, I hate it.

“I’ve liked you for so long, and please answer me,” he sounds breathless as he speaks, “Can I... can we be anything more?”

yujin 유진

first love / teenage crush

you didn’t know when you started liking yujin, you just did

maybe it was when you would watch him play soccer after school, with him alone on the field practicing and you doing your homework on the bleachers

or maybe it was when he bought you a drink that one time. you were thirsty after running to school because you were on the verge of getting an offense on your permanent record if you were late one more time

clicking a few buttons on the vending machine, the solace provided by strawberry milk was nearly yours—until you open your wallet to find that there’s only a thousand won inside

“maybe next time,” you think, “i don’t need to drink anything right now.”

but before you can leave, someone sneaks their two thousand into the slot for you, and the milk drops down into the small metal box below for you to claim

when you turn around, you’re met with yujin

and then a switch flipped. since then, you’ve noticed han yujin wherever you went

you stumbled onto the soccer field on a hot day when you were assigned cleaning duty, and you found that he was the only one there

deciding to repay the favor, after spectating him practicing for a while, you go to buy a drink for him too when you buy your own

you leave it next to his bag with a note, saying: “you’re really good! i bought this for you, make sure to get some rest ♡”

and so watching him practice while doing your homework became a regular occurrence for you, even if you weren’t 100% watching all the time. it was like background music, and your interest in him (caused by him buying you milk) became a full blown crush

Following the steps of your daily routine, you hurriedly arrange your books in your backpack, ready to go see Yujin—the best part of your day—when your teacher stops you at the door.

“[Name], I’d like to talk to you about tutoring someone,” she says, a soft smile plastered on her face as if she wasn’t actively ruining your day. “You’re one of my best students, and a classmate of yours really needs help.”

As hard as you tried to get away, you got stuck in the classroom for the rest of the afternoon, discussing possible tutoring times and the topic outlines where your “classmate” needed further explanation. Not only were you annoyed you missed some time to see Yujin, but when you got to the field, hoping he would still be practicing late into the night, he was gone.

Although you were displeased at the thought of having to tutor your male classmate every day of the school week, you had no choice. In addition, he was at least paying you, so it wasn’t like your hard work was for nothing—just that now, you would have to sacrifice your time with the boy you like.

You started to tutor him after school, and going to see Yujin became a rare possibility. Your tutoring was yielding good results, however, and your tutee received high marks on almost all tests after being taken under your wing.

He runs up to you, showing you his paper with a big red ninety-eight in the corner; he got an even higher grade than you did. “[Name]! Thank you, look at this! I’ve never gotten a grade this high!” You nod, but everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. Since he technically doesn’t need your help anymore, maybe you could go watch Yujin today.

You cancel your session for the day, with permission from your advising teacher. After two and a half weeks, you’re finally back at the field—but this time, he’s the one who isn’t here. You let out a deep breath, deciding to power through and do your homework like normal.

You’re in the middle of trigonometry when a cool sensation is pressed up against your cheek, water beginning to drip down your skin. Flicking your head towards the perpetrator, you discover it to be Yujin holding a strawberry milk for you. He giggles, handing you the small box and sitting down beside you. “Here. I haven’t, um, seen you in a while. Why’s that?”

You take it from him, detaching the straw from the back of the box and poking it through the designated hole. “Yeah,” you say, sipping on the milk for a few seconds after. “I started to tutor Jiwon, so I couldn’t come the last few weeks.”

“Oh, you must be busy, then. Nevermind,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, what is it? You can’t just say nevermind.” You scoff, a teasing grin making its way onto your face.

Yujin gulps. “Will you, uh... come to my game this weekend?”

1K notes · View notes

codfanficedits · 7 months

Text

The Silent Treatment.

Pairing:

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Wordcount: 3695| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, mommy issues, communication, mention of a finger in an ass, angst with no comfort.

A/N: No alternative endings for this one, life's a bitch and if I have to suffer so have you <3 also maybe thinking about taking request, idk.

There were three rules in your relationship with Simon.

One – NEVER eat leftovers that aren’t yours.

Two – Bending over is NOT an invitation to poke someone’s ass.

Three – Never go to a mission while still in an argument.

Rule number one was an easy one. You’d gotten fed up with him eating your leftovers. You’d spent the whole day dreaming about the leftover pasta carbonara only to be met with an empty plate when you came home. An innocent look on his face when you scolded him. “I was hungry.” He pouted. “If your name isn’t on it, it isn’t yours!” You scolded him.

Simon would just put a post it with his name on your leftovers. A cocky grin on his face whenever you called him out on it. “Whaddya mean lovie? It clearly says my name.” In the beginning you wanted to wipe that cocky grin of his face, but over time you found yourself cooking a little extra, just so there would always be a portion of leftovers for Simon. In return you would just keep the good leftovers in an old, empty tub of butter. Your little secret and he didn’t need to know.

Rule number two was brought to life when Simon was finally fed up with you trying to poke his ass every goddamn time he bended over.

“It’s off limits!”

“But that’s not fair.” You protest. “My ass is not off limits for you.”

“You like it.”

“You won’t know it if you won’t try it.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind.”

“Just once.” And with those words you take a step closer, holding out your pointer finger.

“I swear to God, one more step and I’ll put you up for sale on Facebook Marketplace.”

A loud exaggerated gasp leaves you while you lower your hand. “You would never!”

“Correct.” A twinkle in his brown eyes. “I would have to pay people to even be interested in picking you up.”

“Simon!”

You’re met with two arms around you and a million soft kisses on your cheek, forehead, neck. “I would never do such a thing.” He mutters into your ear. “I like my money too much.”

It became a little inside joke. Every now and then he would take the most unflattering picture of you, his favourite was the one where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, your mouth open, snoring while a little bit of drool was on the side of your face. Simon would proudly show you the picture.

“This is the one I would put up with that Facebook Market place ad.” He would grin.

“Please do. Maybe some rich prince will pick me up.”

“Yeah if you count someone with a Burger King crown a prince.”

In return, when the two of you were watching tv, you’d point at some of the rich women you’d see on there.

“That would be me when some rich man responds to the ad you made about me.”

“Be sure to send me some allowance every now and then.”

“As if!” You scoff. “I’d be too busy being rich and pretty to think about sending you a tenner every month.”

It would always be met with a low, grumble, mixed in with a laugh. “You’re already pretty, lovie, pretty sure you can miss a tenner too already.”

But he would always, always pull you close to him and press a kiss onto your hair, and you were pretty sure you could hear him mutter the word “mine”.

Rule number three came to life after the first time the two of you had a big argument. While the two of you could communicate perfectly fine most of the time, every now and then it would escalate. He had a temper, you were so fucking stubborn and sometimes it just had to clash.

And this was the first time. The two of you had just moved in together, and with that came a lot of irritations. Both of you were used to living alone. You didn’t have to worry about people nagging you about your dirty sock scattered around the floor. Simon was used to putting his socks directly into the hamper when he took them off. In return, he could make the kitchen explode while cooking and was perfectly fine with leaving it like that for the night, your fingers would itch whenever the kitchen wasn’t spotless after dinner. But this was new for the both of you, and all of the sudden the two of you weren’t just soldiers, but two people, madly in love but both trying to be right on an argument that only needed compromises.

And it felt as if the world was coming to an end at the kitchen table, while the two of you were arguing and crying, eating of the last, sweet bite of your relationship.

Unfortunately a mission doesn’t stop for a little argument, so the argument had to be cut short. You’d be sent away for no longer than two weeks, and leaving tore your heart out, leaving it behind on the shoe rack for him to look at while you were away. You didn’t even know if you would be single or not when you would come back.

Inside your shared house, Simon would be sitting on the floor, gaze fixed on the door through which you left, hoping you’d come back through that door, tell him you love him, and that you would clean up your socks.

But you didn’t.

Instead he received the news that the communication was cut off between your squad and base. An unforeseen enemy ambush that no one had seen coming. And your socks on the floor no longer mattered to Simon, he promised himself he would never, ever complain about the socks scattered on the bathroom floor if that meant you would come home safe. Simon had never been a religious man, but he would find himself praying at your empty side of your bed every night he was home, begging all the Gods above that you would come home to him.

And you did.

He had been waiting for you the moment he got the news you and your squad had been found. Nervously pacing around, while he was Ghost out on the field, for you he was just Simon, and right now Simon needed you more than ever before. You had been gone for nearly a month now, and he could no longer care about your socks, or the way you would kick out your shoes. All he could care about was you, and having you.

You on the other hand, had no idea what you would come home to. Maybe he had left, maybe you would come home to an empty house with a lover long moved on. But that wasn’t the case, you were greeted by a large man, his hands instantly cupping your face, lips all over your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead as if his lips were trying to imprint your face in his mind.

After that, the two of you decided to never, ever leave on a mission again while still mad and that rule needed a little tweaking.

By the next big argument, months later, the both of you stayed up all night, trying to talk out the argument. The lack of sleep only fuelling the anger on both sides. It made you both irrational and unable to think in solutions. Eventually the both of you fell asleep, Simon sitting at the kitchen table, you had made your way to the couch, holding on to his hoodie out of spite. The next morning the two of you could in fact talk it out, without the crying, without raising your voice, without the cussing.

So eventually rule number three became really simple. Don’t go on a mission while you’re still in an argument. No matter the subject, no matter how angry one of you was. If someone had to leave for a mission, the argument was put on hold, almost always accompanied by some soft words.

“I’m still mad, but I love you, and we’ll find a solution when you’re back”

“You’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you, and we will work this out.”

“When you’re back, we will talk about it, but for now, all you need to know is that I love you.”

A kiss always followed afterwards, usually on a lips, a single time on the forehead.

Today the two of you were about to break rule three. The past few months had been hectic, to say the least. A lot of missions, birthdays, other obligations. Not enough sleep, not enough intimacy, not enough time for each other. It had placed a ticking bomb under your relationship with Simon. An argument waiting to happen. The little things that would usually just make you shake your head and go on with your day, suddenly became a big deal. The way he would leave the kitchen, the way he would drape his shirts over the armrest over the couch. How he would leave his razor in the shower, always next to your shampoo. Speaking of it, you were certain he was using your shampoo, despite you asking him not to. Multiple times and he never fucking listens.

On the other hand, Simon was getting annoyed by you more and more, the way you would leave your socks on the bathroom floor, how you would leave a door open if you had been in that room. And you always left the fucking light on in the bathroom, no matter how often he would tell you to be mindful of it.

So there you were, walking into your kitchen after he had come home after a long, tiring mission. You had just come home from a day full of meetings and preparations for your upcoming mission.

Your whole kitchen a goddamn mess, who the fucks needs two pans, a cutting board, three plates and a fork, a knife AND a spoon for a portion of scrambled eggs anyway? But you try to let it go, you try counting to ten, you try to ignore the eggshells on the stove, the ketchup on the counter, you try to ignore it all.

Then he barges in, a pair of your socks in his hands, while he looks you in the eyes, using his foot to open the bin, tossing your socks in there.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“I’m sick and tired of finding your fucking socks everywhere.”

“Oh so you can throw away my socks, but throwing out eggshells while you’re cooking is too much to fucking ask?”

“I was going to do it after my nap.”

“Sure you were.” An eyeroll from you followed.

“Don’t give me that fucking attitude lovie.”

“Attitude?” You narrow your eyes.

“Attitude. All I want is some fucking peace and quiet and all you’re doing is fucking nagging.”

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would just clean this fucking kitchen! Other people want to live and cook here too.”

You can see him press his lips together, a sign that the temper in him is rising, but you don’t care, you can feel your own anger building up and it needs to get out.

“Well, other people would like to go to the fucking bathroom without having to cross a fucking path of dirty, filthy fucking socks!”

“They’re just fucking socks, what is your big fucking deal?”

“My big fucking deal is that little miss perfect over here is nagging like a fucking bitch, while I’m following her around cleaning up her fucking socks, closing fucking doors behind her fucking ass. You can’t even turn of the fucking light after you’ve been in a room and you’re whining about the fucking kitchen!” His voice is raising with every word that comes out of his mouth.

But you were raised by a woman couldn’t love herself, so you don’t back down, instead you get in his face, your tone and volume matching his. “Because this kitchen is fucking disgusting Simon! How the fuck could the army recruit someone so fucking filthy?” Bringing in his career was a low blow. “How fucking hard is it to clean the goddamn ketchup if you spill it?”

His hands form two fists, clenched while they hang beside his body.

“Do not.” His voice is a hiss. “Bring my fucking work into this.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you fucking say Simon.” You turn around as you spit out your words.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Out of this fucking swinery of a kitchen.”

“We’re not done talking.”

“What else is there to fucking say? You’re a fucking pig and I am the problem apparently.” Another turn to face him again.

“You know, when you act like this, you’re just your mother.”

Oh, your mother. The woman who was your first friend and your first enemy. The woman who had taught you that your worth was what men thought of you, while slut shaming you in the same sentence. The woman who never loved you how you needed her to. The day she called you ugly wasn’t the day you stopped loving her, but the day you stopped loving yourself, and you had told him. You had cried in his arms about your fucked up relationship with your mother, you had cried about what you had wanted her to be, but what she never could be for you.

“If I’m my mother, then you’re your fat-“ He cuts you off.

“Don’t fucking go there.”

“Why not? You can compare me to my fucking mother. My MOTHER out of all people!” It’s your turn to raise your voice at him.

“It’s different.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite Simon.”

“I’m the hypocrite? I can’t even come home without you nagging on my fucking ass about this fucking kitchen while you leave a trail of your fucking mess throughout the whole fucking house.”

“Oh well, I’m sorry for not wanting fucking eggshells on my stove, or your fucking shirts all over the couch. Or your FUCKING razor next to MY fucking shampoo!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oh don’t fucking act all innocent now, Simon. I’ve told you plenty of times to keep your hands of my fucking shampoo. That shit is fucking expensive.”

“So I don’t deserve nice, expensive things?”

His comment makes your blood boil. “Stop trying to be the fucking victim.”

“The fucking victim? I can’t even use some nice smelling shampoo in my own fucking house without it being used against me.”

“Oh my God! You could’ve bought your own fucking shampoo. But noo, you always have to take my fucking things. Not even my fucking leftovers are safe from you!”

“Are you still upset because I ate some leftovers?”

“Yes!”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“You’re a fucking leech.”

“A leech?” His fists turning white at your comment.

“A fucking leech. Feeding off others like a fucking parasite.”

“It would be a very good idea if you learned how to shut up, lovie.” The last word didn’t even sound as a pet name anymore.

“Oh I’ll fucking shut up.”

“Finally some fucking peace around here.”

You press your lips together, not making another sound. If he wants some fucking peace he can get it. You turn around to leave the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Without looking at him you point at the whiteboard, the date of the mission you had to go on today circled with a red marker.

“Be sure to pack some extra socks so you can litter the fucking battlefield.” He shouts at you as you walk off to pack your bag.

Never break rule number three.

You’re angry when you pack your bag, stomping around, making sure he hears how pissed off he has made you. You even want to take your stupid fucking shampoo with you, but you decide against it, it would be too much of a hassle.

You go downstairs again with your packed bag, and the two of you make eye contact. But neither of you says a thing. Neither of you say the words you had promised each other to always say before a mission.

You turn around while his eyes look back at the tv again, and you make sure to slam the door a little too hard while you leave on your mission.

Turns out all Simon needed was a good nap, some food, a shower and some more sleep. When he wakes up from his little nap and the sky outside is already dark, he realises how much he misses you, how he didn’t tell you he loved you when you went away. He lets out a sigh when he gets to the bathroom, your socks still on the floor, and with a small huff he bends over to pick them up, his hand automatically covering his ass, a force of habit to make sure you don’t poke him while he is bending over. A soft sigh leaving his lips when he realises you’re not there.

For the first time since the two of you got together, your side of the bed felt extra cold, extra empty, and he found himself on his knees again, praying to the heavens you would be home quick, so he could tell you he loved you, and so the two of you could have an actual conversation about the things that had been bothering the two of you.

Simon lets out a soft groan when he sees the kitchen, you had been right, it looked like an active warzone in there. Maybe he should learn to clean up the kitchen after cooking. He’s a grown man for fuck sake.

He rolls up his sleeves, puts on some music and it’s time to clean that goddamned kitchen. And while he is cleaning his thoughts wandered to you, how hurt you looked when he compared you to your mother, and a jolt of guilt shoots through him. It had been unfair to compare you to your mother. You were nothing like her, and when you would be back he would make sure to tell you that.

He's sweaty and Simon isn’t sure how it happened, but he got eggshells in his hair, but the kitchen is clean, and he intends to keep it that way. With a light spring in his step he makes his way to the shower. He automatically reaches for your shampoo, he just loves how your hair smells when you’re laying on his chest, or when he is your weighed blanket and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Washing his hair with your shampoo reminds him of you during the day. Simon unscrews the cap, bringing the bottle to his nose and he closes his eyes, the steam and the scent of your shampoo give him the illusion that you’re with him again, and when he opens his eyes he feels empty when you’re not there.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

When he lays in bed at night, and you’re not there to hold, he feels lonely, for the first time since forever, you had always feel like home, and now his home was gone. Simon keeps reaching out for you, only to be met by the cold feeling of your empty pillow. The scrolls past the pictures he has from you, the ones he had always threatened to put in a Facebook marketplace ad, and they bring a smile to his face. He remembers the first time he gave you the playful threat and how he had to make sure to smother you in kisses in case you were angry at him. But you weren’t, you had always been a saint and today he had let his anger take control.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

But when you finally return and he gets the chance to tell you that he loves you, the words get stuck in his throat. Rule number three had been broken and he wasn’t sure how to continue from there. Eventually he finds the courage to speak to you again.

“I love you.” The words are simple, yet raw. But you’re not done being silent, after all, he wished for some peace and now he was getting it.

And so the minutes pass, the hours pass, the days pass, but your silent treatment doesn’t end, you’re a stubborn one, and he knows it.

But he has to speak to you, it is the least he could do, but it’s hard to speak to you when he knows you won’t say a thing back.

“I should’ve hugged you tighter the last time I saw you. I just miss you, in a quite simple, desperate, human way.” The words are raw again, as if they are ripped from the very core of his human being. Again there is no answer from you, and it rips his heart out. He just wishes the last thing you said to him were words of love, not words out of anger.

And now he is sitting next to you, a blanket around the both of you, while he finds the courage to speak to you. Simon’s gaze shifts from the flowers in front of him, to the stars in the sky.

“The stars will go out before I forget you.” His voice is soft, a whisper, the words are meant just for you.

He sighs when you stay silent, oh what he would give to hear your voice once again.

“You know, this is not how I had imagined life, lovie. I want to stay on the back porch, while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me back to bed.” His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence.

Simon rests his head against your tombstone. “This silent treatment has been going on for long enough, don’t you think, lovie?”

550 notes · View notes

kiwisluv · 12 days

Text

jude bellingham blurb - barca vs psg

reader x bf!jude

set during the barca vs psg leg 2 champions league match

1.4k words - i guess not really a blurb at this point😭 also not proofread soz xx

You and your best friend were sat in the tv lounge at your uni, watching the Barcelona vs PSG game since you had downtime between classes. A little bit into the first half, a group of three boys had come by to ask if they could watch the game with you two, and you obliged, figuring it wouldn't do any harm.

By the time the second half started, you and your friend were regretting your mistake. The three boys were yapping about the game the entire time, which wouldn't have been terrible if it wasn't so obvious that they were trying to flex their "superior" knowledge about footy. The two of you just kept to yourself, making a quiet comment to each other about the game here and there, but you couldn't help but make eye contact every time one of the men confidently remarked about the game, only to be making an incorrect statement. It was almost laughable the amount of times they had messed up; when their fourth friend came at halftime, one of the men loudly went, "Bro, PSG just got a red card then scored on the penalty kick." You couldn't even wrap your head around how the boy could've mistaken what he was watching THAT badly. At one point, you could barely hold back your giggles as your best friend tweeted, "Barcelona fans are the type of people to stare straight into the sun during the solar eclipse."

You had also been texting Jude throughout the game, knowing he couldn't talk right now because the team was prepping for tomorrow, but still sending him your commentary like you always did for him to read later. This included texts like "RED CARDDDDD THIS IS PEAK COMEDY FROM BARCA" and "XAVI GETTING SENT OFF I'M DYINGGGGG!!!!!!" It's safe to say that you were happy to see the downfall of Jude's rival club. At one point early in the second half, you saw the photos of Jude from his press conference and showed your friend excitedly, raving about how fit he was, and laughing at one of the videos of him trying to understand a Spanish interviewer. When they boys caught notice of this, they side eyed each other, assuming that you were just some girls who didn't even care about football and just watched for the fit guys. This got them chatting even louder, reallyyy trying to show off their ball knowledge now. Because of your mention of Jude, they started talking about tomorrow's games and proceeded to rant about how City was gonna blow out Madrid. This struck a nerve in you but you decided to bite your tongue and just focus on the game and your friend instead of biting at their bait.

After Mbappe's second goal, you were absolutely raving, texting Jude something along the lines of "KYKYYYYYYYY." You cheered with your friend as the boys sulked further into their chairs, obviously unhappy with the scoreline. "I love my man, but Kyks..." you joked to your friend as you watched PSG celebrating all over the screen. "Can't wait for you to come to Madrid baby," you joking said to the TV screen, your friend giggling at your ridiculousness. This fit was interrupted, though, as your phone started buzzing and Jude's contact picture (a quite unflattering photo of him sleeping) filled your phone. Your heart instinctually swelled at the thought of speaking to your boyfriend, and you quickly answered the call. "Please tell me you just saw that goal," you said as soon as Jude's face filled the screen. It looked as if he was done with training and sitting in the team's makeshift common area. You could hear some of his teammates messing around in the background and even saw Cama passing by in the background.

"Well hello to you too," Jude said jokingly. You rolled your eyes at his sassiness, choosing to ignore this comment and ask if he was watching the game.

Unbeknownst to you, the four boys sat in the room with you were absolutely flabbergasted. They were looking at each other with the widest eyes, unable to believe what they were hearing. Your friend saw this, biting back her smirk at their reaction. "Hiya Jude," she greeted, peaking her head into the frame to say hi to your boyfriend, who she was also quite close with.

"Hi!" he smiled back with a wave to the camera. "And yes, I'm watching the game. We just got done with training."

"We watched some of your press conference earlier. It was alright," you joked to the man. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Kidding, of course. You looked sexy," you said with an overdramatic wink. You couldn't hold back your laughter at the silly remark. "But for real, your answers were perfect. You actually sounded very competent and not nearly as cocky as you actually are."

"Wow. Thanks for that," he said in fake annoyance.

"I've already got screenshots of it in my camera roll."

"You're a creep," he deadpanned. "I can't believe my girlfriend is a groupie."

This had you gasping, holding your hand to your heart as you feigned offence. "Alright, goodbye now Jude." You pretended to go to hang up the phone but were cut off by Jude going "No no no no!"

After that little fit, he asked you about how your day was, how your assignments were going, etc. He even asked your friend about how her date was last night, surprising you that he even remembered about that. She took the phone from you to debrief your boyfriend about her night, telling him the story of the crazy guy she'd had dinner with. As the two chatted away, you watched the last few minutes of the game, feeling warm inside at how happy you were with Jude and how happy you were that he got along with your friends so well.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by the four boys, who had stood up and walked over to you. You looked at them puzzled, having a hunch about what they wanted. "Hey, um, we were just wondering..." one of the boys started, obviously nervous about whatever he was going to say. At this point, you knew what they wanted, and you couldn't believe the nerve they had after slagging off Madrid mere minutes ago.

"If you could say hi to Jude?" you finished the question for him. They sheepishly nodded, one of the others adding, "We're big fans."

You held back your eye roll at that last statement, taking the phone from your friend and turning it so that the boys could see Jude and vice versa. "Jude, these are the guys that were just chatting all about how City's gonna win tomorrow." You couldn't see your boyfriend's face, but you imagined him raising his eyebrows at this statement. You and your friend laughed at how caught off guard the boys were by your statement. They looked panicked, all four of them standing with their mouths hung open but not saying anything.

"Oof," Jude shook his head on the screen. "Don't say that around y/n. She'll have your necks for talking down on Madrid."

At this, the frontmost of the boys scratched his neck and laughed nervously. "Um, we didn't mean it like that...we were just, um, talking about the odds and stuff..." he tried to scrap up a pathetic excuse.

"What team do you lads support?" Jude asked.

The four looked at each other as if they were unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. "Barca..." one ended up saying quietly. His friend widened his eyes at this, quickly adding on, "But we think you're class! You've been mental to watch this season."

"Thanks, mate. I'll have to tell the Barca lads even their fans are supporting Madrid this season! No wonder with the state of this game." At this, you brought your phone back to face you, giving the boys a look as to say, Okay, you can go now. You almost felt a little bad for embarrassing them but then remembered how annoying they were during the game and didn't regret a thing. "You're brutal," Jude said, shaking his head at your antics.

"They were annoying," you replied with a shrug. "I think I have to go to class now. I'll call you before our train to Manchester leaves tonight."

He smiled widely at this, ecstatic that he would get to see you after his game tomorrow. "Okay. I can't wait to see you. You too (y/bsf/n)!"

"Yeah, yeah. Me too. I love you, bye!"

"Love you, too." he smiled brightly before hanging up the phone.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfic

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jokeringcutio · 4 months

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(f) Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton [ Explicit/SMUT]

Fandom: FNAF Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Non-con/Dub-con, First Time, Reader loses Virginity to stepdad, Stepdad teaching Stepdaughter Reader a lesson, age difference, forbidden relationship, height difference, infidelity, name-calling, Dark!William. All characters are mature in this. NOTE: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. As a reaction to this prompt:

Reader sends accidental Pic to Stepdad William Afton

The phone buzzed in your hand, a chilling reply displayed on the screen.

I'm coming home.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave and you had to double-check the sender. But no, it was right there. Dad.

But why was your stepdad coming home, right now, when he was supposed to be working?

As you slowly scrolled the page up, thumb trembling, you came eye to eye with the picture you had intended to send to your crush.

Nothing wrong with it, was there? Most of your friends have done this. They’d encouraged you. Just take a picture with nothing on, send it to the guy you want to be dating, and voila.

But here, something had gone horribly wrong.

Because that intimate picture had been sent to William Afton, your mother’s husband, and since a few years your new dad.

Good lord, how had you made such a slip-up? Running your hands through your hair, you paced the room. Your stepdad was a strict man, not at all pleased when you announced you wanted to start dating. Very discouraging actually.

Boys were strictly forbidden, according to him anyway. But you were a girl with hormones raging and you’d met a nice bloke at your college. Plus, your friends had pushed you to do something like this. Just sent him a sexy pic. Not that you had shown all. But still.

It wasn’t something you wanted your stepdad to see.

Looking at your own picture one more time, you felt embarrassed. You looked good in it, your absolute best. Very seductive. A very revealing pic.

You were so going to get it now.

No way your stepdad was going to let you live this down. You instantly flicked your finger over the picture, deleting it. You weren’t in the mood to send it to the right guy any longer, only felt trepidation now that your stepdad could be home any moment.

He worked at the pizza plex nearby and was one of the managers. He could go wherever and whenever he wanted, and he had a really fancy car as well.

The sound of tires screeching signaled he had arrived sooner than you had anticipated. You had run out of time. Your heart raced and you clenched your fists, unsure of how to explain yourself. Casting a glance at your mirror – you were dressed in your unflattering comfy clothes – you mentally prepared to face your stepdad.

His car roared into the driveway, and then you heard the front door slam shut.

"Where are you?" William's voice boomed throughout the house.

"Upstairs!" you called out, trembling in fear. The sound of his heavy footsteps grew louder as he ascended the stairs. He was tall and very intimidating on a good day. You didn’t want to know how he would be on a bad one. But it seemed like you were about to find out.

He burst into your room, face flushed with anger and confusion. "What the hell were you thinking, sending those pictures?"

"William, I... I didn't mean—" you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“When did I give you permission to use my full name?” William sneered, anger radiated off him in full waves. He pushed the aviator glasses back on his nose with an agitated growl. “I am still your dad, step or not. Address me respectfully.”

You hardly dared to look at him as you complied. “Yes, Daddy,” voice now soft as you glanced at the floor in shame. Yet, there was that little voice in the back of your mind, wondering what he had thought when he had seen your pictures. You looked like your mom – everybody had always said so. Had he thought you attractive?

Slowly, your eyes slid higher, from the floor to his feet and upward, past his shins and to the obvious outline of his cock in his pants. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, when you realized that your pictures at least must have had some effect on him.

You got your stepdad hard.

You quickly looked up at his face. The thin lines around his eyes betrayed his sternness, the corners of his mouth had dipped into a displeased frown.

"Did you even think about the consequences?" he snapped, his blue eyes blazing with rage.

"Let me explain," you pleaded, your voice barely audible. The weight of his accusations hung heavy in the air.

"Explain what? That you've been sleeping around and sending pictures to your boyfriends?!" William's tone was laced with venom, his words cutting deep.

"Dad, I'm not dating anyone," you stammered, feeling a hot flush creep up your cheeks. "I just... I wanted to send them to someone I have a crush on. He asked for them."

"Christ," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you even realize what could happen if you do something so reckless?"

His question hung in the air, unanswered. You didn't know what to say, feeling small and humiliated.

"Think about it," he continued, his voice cold as ice. "Your pictures could end up all over the internet, with no way to get them back. And worse, that boy might want to fuck you."

As he spoke, he began unbuckling his belt, using his foot to kick your door shut. Your eyes grew wide, surprised by the suddenness of his actions. What was going on? Your body froze as you watched him, kicking off his shoes, unable to process what was happening.

Was this really the man who had been a part of your family for so long?

“It’s a good thing your mom doesn’t know what whorish behavior her daughter has been up to, because I swear, she would have gotten a heart attack.”

You stumbled backward, calves hitting the edge of your bed which made you glance shortly over your shoulder. There was nowhere to go any longer.

“Now, if you just do as I say, then we can keep this quiet,” William said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. His pants fell to the floor and he kicked them off, leaving him in just his disheveled blouse and his socks.

His cock, long and thick, peeked out from between the edges of his blouse, the head an angry red and slit already weeping pre-cum. A mouthwatering sight, a man well-endowed. You could have enjoyed it, had he been anyone but your stepdad.

"Dad, please," you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by your own racing thoughts. It suddenly became very clear what his intentions were. You couldn’t just stand and watch. Your body kicked into action, and suddenly you found yourself bolting toward the door.

But before you could escape, William's strong hand gripped your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snarled, his eyes dark with anger and something else. A deep raw hunger. Lust. You instantly knew there was no escaping the consequences of your actions.

But you were going to try.

You struggled in his grip. “Dad, William, no!” You cried out, as you tried to escape his grip. But his arm circled around you and you heard his breathing heavy and excited in your ear. You felt his chest, hot and hard, against your back. His cock pressed against the small of your back, the pre-cum staining the fabric of your shirt. Run, a voice inside your head screamed. But he was too strong.

Struggling, you felt him drag you back to your bed, so full of childhood memories. Always your personal safe little spot. And now? Now he threw you upon it without ceremony, crawling over you before you had the chance to get up.

You knew what he wanted to do to you. You could see it in those blue eyes, gleaming behind his glasses, pupils diluted with perverse intent. Could you ever look him in the eye again after this?

“Dad, please, think of Mom,” you tried to reason with him. But strong hands pried your legs open without hesitation, palms rough upon your knees, your thighs trembling as you tried to push him away.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice shaky and uncertain. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Surely he wouldn’t pop your cherry? Surely, he’d back down, laugh, and tell you he only had done it all to frighten you?

He leaned backward, trapping you to your bed with only his hips. Rising to his full height, he pushed his glasses back up his nose with a smirk, eyes roaming over your helpless figure underneath him.

“Oh, I think you know what I’m doing,” was all he said before two large fingers hooked around the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties, just enough to expose your cunt. Your breath halted as you looked at him in fear. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Dad,” you started, voice choked. “This is wrong. You can’t just-”

But you froze when you felt your stepdad’s long cock rub past your entrance, the tip dipping in and stretching your walls wide. He hunched over you, a grin plastered on his face while his eyes glinted. He brought his lips near your ear, hot breath flickering past your skin.

"I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he murmured. You felt his fingers guide his cock, the fingertips pressing against your labia. Then, without a warning, he pushed himself inside in one firm thrust.

You threw your head back, back arched, and legs spasming. A loud cry was torn from your lips.

That fucking hurt.

Your stepdad was too large to be inserted in one go. Tears brimmed in your eyes while you brought your hands up to grab his shoulders, but he pushed them down and trapped them at either side of you.

“Take it,” you heard your stepdad growl through gritted teeth. “You wanted to tease some poor bloke, didn’t you? Then take what he has to offer you.”

His hips moved harshly, but it was just a few thrusts before he came to a halt. Your pussy throbbed painfully, desperately trying to adjust.

Through the tears, you managed to look up at him. William had raised a brow, looking at you as if he were studying your reactions while his hips gently started to move against yours again. You heard sickening slick sounds coming from where your bodies joined.

Experimentally, he moved his hips, and you arched your back again, fingers curling onto the mattress as you threw your head from side to side.

“Take it out,” you pleaded, “Please, Dad, take it out.” Soft mewls fell from your lips, it was pathetic. But you were in so much pain right now, split upon his cock. It was like he was tearing you apart. “It’s too much.”

You’d fantasized about cocks before, your mind wasn’t that innocent. But you’d never had a real one inside your cunt before and this – your stepdad’s cock – was just too large. The way it stretched your vaginal walls was painful, your pussy throbbing desperately around his shaft to try and adjust. But he kept moving his hips, making it harder to get used to the feel of him.

The head of his cock hit you deep, nudging against a part of you that you didn’t know existed. You shuddered on his shaft, taking deep breaths as your stepfather kept pumping his hips.

“You surprise me,” you heard the roughness in his voice, as if he was thirsting for something. “You're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "Like fucking a virgin.”

Something in his blue eyes flickered and you bit back another pained gasp. “Fuck, you feel so good."

Another deep thrust moved you up the bed. You tried to get a grip on the sheets, the blankets – just anything, but your dad kept pushing your hands down, pinning them at your sides. Once you relented and left them there, fingers digging into the soft material of your bedding, he finally placed his arms around your head.

“That’s better, sweet girl of mine,” William’s low voice hummed. “You’re starting to adjust to my cock. I can feel it.”

Wet noises confirmed that he was still stretching your cunt, but also, that you were wet enough for him to easily slide in and out of.

“Please,” you begged, voice sounding weak, but you had to try.

Your body trembled, muscles being stretched into positions they had never been stretched before. You felt how your chest was trapped to his own, how it became hard to breathe while his cock still pushed deep inside your sensitive core.

The pain slowly began to ebb away, your legs slowly started to relax now that they got used to being pushed this far aside. Your stepdad was a large man, both in height and width as in girth, and you had to spread your legs really wide for him to fit in between. But you managed.

“I don’t want this, Daddy,” you weakly said. And you felt weak. Perhaps that was the worst of it. Not his large cock splitting you open and tearing you in half. But the fact that you wanted to appear strong, and yet your voice sounded so small and tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

Your stepdad glanced down at you and gave another thrust. “You don’t want this, sweetheart? You’d think those boys would care if it hurt or not?”

You flinched at the harshness in his voice. As if to punctuate his words, your stepdad moved his hips in a rather sharp thrust, hitting that spot deep inside with such ferocity that it made you flinch in pain. You groaned, gritting your teeth in order not to cry out.

Something in William’s eyes flickered, recognition at what he’d done to you, and then, he did it once more, chuckling as you clearly put in effort to keep from gasping in pain.

“This is how real men fuck. If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t send out invitations,” his words were rough and mean, and his cock dipped in even deeper inside of you, stirring your innards, making you see starts. You sincerely regretted ever having even taken such photos, let alone sending them to your stepfather.

His thrusts grew bolder, harsher. His cock was buried to the hilt as he folded you over, drawing your knees up to your chest while his hands slipped under your shirt. You felt rough fingers grasp the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing them painfully in a tight grip that made it impossible to keep from crying out.

“That’s it, baby girl,” William spat, “When I squeeze you I feel you clench down on my cock.” Another firm squeeze of your breasts and you became aware that he was right. Your pussy clamped down on his cock firmly, as if it wanted him inside. You let out another gasp. A denial might have escaped your lips, but if there had been a quiet ‘no’ then it was denied by your stepdad anyway. He thought he was right, and apparently, he didn’t care a dime about your feelings in any of this. He was just using you for his pleasure now, nothing more.

His hips moved a little slower now while he grunted, his hands stilled on your breasts. “Let’s get rid of that,” you heard him say as he tutted his lips. His fingers grazed at the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve already seen it all on the picture anyway.”

With two strong hands, he tore at the shirt, lifting it over your chest until he left your breasts exposed.

A whistle escaped his teeth.

“Well, would you look at that,” then he leaned over you again, his breath hot on your skin. “They look even better than on the screen.”

And then his mouth was upon them. His lips circled a nipple, sucking and suckling while the other one was assaulted by his thumb. You gasped and arched under his touch, glad that his hips had stilled, but still trapped under his weight – his cock snuggly all the way inside your tiny cunt.

He was working his lips on you, suckling and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until it made you gasp. You felt how your body betrayed you. How pain from the initial intrusion and the hard fuck started to morph into something else.

Your pussy started to pulse around his cock, not in pain or in an attempt to adjust. No, your body was drawing him in, starting to milk him for pleasure. Liquid started gushing down his shaft, easing the way for him as your body started to thrum. Your nerves started to tingle, a hot coil formed in your core. Each pinch, each nibble, each suck and each bite set your body on fire. Your core throbbed.

Your stepdad was really skilled with his mouth. The hairs of his bread tickled your skin and heightened the sensations.

And then he started to move his hips again.

William’s lips left your breasts but his hands lingered. Dark eyes – the blue now a deep black – stared at you through his aviator glasses. His hips moved forcefully against your own, but the pain had now fully morphed into pleasure.

“That slides a lot better now,” your stepdad drily commented, moving his hips expertly against your own while you felt his cockhead bump against something soft deep inside of you. The sensation had you mewling.

“Always knew you were a tease,” his cock thrust deep, tearing another moan from your lips, “from the very start,” thrust, “Just another whore begging to be fucked.” Thrust. “Want to be Daddy’s good girl?” Thrust. “More like Daddy’s good whore.” Thrust. “But you have impressed me, sweetheart.”

A thumb gently brushed past your clavicle and, at feeling the sensation, your eyes looked up to search for his. The sight you met was that of a demon possessed by lust. Darkness shielded his emotions, making him look all the more fearful to you.

“Never thought I’d get to fuck my virgin daughter.”

And with that said, William gritted his teeth and started to pick up the pace. His fingers dug into your hips as he held you in place, his cock repeatedly battering so deep inside of you that you were starting to feel sore. Globs of pre-cum softened your cervix as he pressed forth, the head of his cock hitting the entrance to your womb at a punishing pace, again and again, until you gasped in both pleasure and pain. A perfect combination, for your eyes fell shut as your body worked towards an orgasm.

Your pussy tightened around your stepdad’s cock, your toes curled and your fingers dug into your bed. William’s hands were tight upon your hips, leaving bruises where his fingers dug into your skin as he rutted you like an animal in heat.

And then you came. A blissful feeling. Like a volcano that erupted inside and made you see all the stars in the galaxy. The feeling overwhelmed you. Your entire body shook and trembled, your pussy milked your stepdad’s cock for all you were worth, nearly sending him over the edge. But he had control. With gritted teeth, he worked you through your orgasm until the stars you saw started to disappear and you slowly came down from your high,

You came back to earth again feeling your stepdad’s fingers tightly on your skin, hearing his rough grunts, and feeling the force of his harsh thrusts. He was getting near. Even as inexperienced as you were, you could tell.

Your eyes opened wide. Not only was your pussy overly sensitive right now – your body begging him to stop – but this was also your first time having sex. Ever. And you weren’t on any birth control.

And your stepdad should not come inside of you.

“N-Not inside,” you managed to beg, although it took a lot of you to be able to speak after having reached such bliss only moments before.

For a moment you feared that William hadn’t heard you or wouldn’t listen. But then, after two more firm thrusts, your stepdad withdrew and you let out a loud sigh.

Relieved, you smiled up at him and watched as he sat back on his knees. His glistening erection was an angry red, the head throbbing against his own belly. Slick stuck to his shaft, coating it, creating strings of yellowish white tinted with red that caught to the hairs on his stomach.

William seemed to catch his breath as he ran a hand through his wispy hair.

You wanted to thank him for not coming inside of you, for being considerate, but the moment you parted your lips to speak, he hovered above you again. His lips turned into a devilish grin, spelling doom and confusing you because – what was he up to?

“Daddy hasn’t come yet,” he ominously rasped. You loved the way his voice sounded, so deep and hoarse. It sent another spark of arousal through you. You wondered how he was going to finish, whether he’d come on your stomach or ask you to put your lips around him and swallow his load.

But then you felt his hands on your knees, pushing them apart once more. You reached up a hand, “Dad, no!” but it was too late.

He plunged his cock back in while he hooked a hand underneath your leg, pulling it upward, meeting your hips at a different angle this time as he started thrusting without hesitation.

He curled over you, his cockhead once again beating your cervix, sending a fresh bout of tears to your eyes because it felt so good but you were oh-so-sensitive down there. You gritted your teeth, completely helpless, and left at his mercy as he fucked the living daylights out of your already sore and tired body.

“Didn’t I say I was going to teach you a lesson, pretty girl?” You heard his low voice rasp as your stepdad pressed his forehead against your own. You felt his sweaty skin against yours, felt how your sore pussy clamped down on his cock as if your body wasn’t eager to ever let him go.

“Perhaps Daddy doesn’t want to come outside,” he grunted, his large hand upon your right breast, squeezing it. And despite having already cum, your pussy reacted accordingly and clamped down like a vice. It was becoming hard to breathe now, your body was overstimulated, your core sore. But William wouldn’t stop as he worked himself toward his own bliss.

“If I want to fucking come inside of you, then I will. Part of the lesson, kiddo. I don’t fucking care if you were a virgin ten minutes ago, or if you were saving yourself for some fucking dim-witted boy. You fucking got yours now, and you’d better keep everything that Daddy has to give you. Because… here it comes.”

The last few words were all punctuated by firm thrusts, and then your stepdad groaned and rolled his eyes back as his body stilled. His hands were still firmly upon you, keeping you pinned down, whilst hotness flooded your womb and covered your insides like hot burning liquid.

You let out a silent sob, feeling certain that William held you pressed down to the mattress on purpose, keeping you pinned underneath him until he was done pumping his semen inside of your womb. When he finally retreated, his cock slipping out of you, still half-hard but already softening, you let out a sigh of relief.

Yet, your pussy fluttered around nothing, suddenly feeling empty. You started to feel drowsy, body content after the heavy fucking, heart overruling your mind. You groaned and waited to see your stepdad put himself back inside his pants before you slowly sat up.

It felt awkward and painful between your legs, making it hard to move. A thick trace of cum and blood filled the bed, pooling from your sensitive cunt to the sheets. You looked at it in disdain, wrinkling your nose as you realized that this was all done by your stepfather.

Your stepdad had ruined your cunt, taking your virginity and coming inside unasked.

You glowered angrily at him only to meet his gaze, eyes cold. He took the challenge head-on and set himself down next to you, on the edge of your bed.

“Any boy would have done that,” he said, voice low but calm. His hand hovered in the air between you, almost as if waiting for permission, and when you didn’t recoil he placed it gently on top of your bare thigh.

“I did you a favor. And I suppose, a thank you would be in place.”

Was he serious? You looked at him, core throbbing painfully after the sex. After having fucked you so carelessly, he now expected that you would thank him for it?

But then you saw that darkness in his eyes and knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. This was your stepdad, you were living under his roof, eating his food, dancing to his tunes – and you would be for quite a while to come, economic crises made sure of that. It just seemed the music had changed and you were no longer in the children’s disco.

And so you hung your head. A soft whisper fell from your lips, but you could tell he had heard you by the grin that slipped onto his. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson, Daddy.”

His big hand gently squeezed your thigh, skin warm and soft.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” his hand then left your leg until his fingers gently tucked your chin up, carefully making you meet his eyes.

“I just want you to know that although I am not your biological dad, I am your family now. And as your stepdad, I will always be here for you to help you. You need anything from Daddy, just ask. Don’t tease it out of me.”

You almost felt ashamed at this point, and had to remind yourself that you did not send him that picture to tease him. It had truly been an accident. Had he interpreted it the wrong way? Did he think you had wanted him to do this? Was it your fault?

“The world out there’s a nasty place, with nasty, vile men. And what job is it but a Dad’s job to prepare his gorgeous daughter for that world? So that’s what I’m here to do. Help you, guide you, teach you all you need to know.”

It could have been sweet, had his voice not lowered and his intentions not so thin-veiled with lust.

“Just ask. I have many more lessons to teach you.”

Your mouth turned dry at the silent promise that he would fuck you some more – and all the trouble that could come out of it if your mom ever found out.

What else could you say?

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He smiled.

“Any time, darling. Any time.”

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#Stepdad!William Afton x Reader #stepdad william afton #stepdad x stepdaughter #reader insert #older man x younger woman #william afton x reader #William afton x you #purple man x you #matthew lillard William Afton

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asdfghjklmals · 9 months

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BABY MOON✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. body insecurities. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 4.4k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dadtobe!gojo, pregnant!oc, lovesick!gojo, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend's brother surprises her and satoru with a trip to mexico so they can spend time together before baby gojo arrives. (this fic happens in the middle of ‘milestones’, click to read here) AUTHOR'S NOTE: i did some research on puerto vallarta and i'm on my reggaeton kick lately lol did y’all catch the bleach inspiration about the sun? *cries* i love isshin and masaki. ugh. i'm obsessed with how in love oc gojo girlfriend and satoru are in this fic. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“so what exactly does a couple even do on a baby moon?” satoru asked as he buttoned his dress shirt in the mirror, leaving four unbuttoned to expose his toned chest.

he wore a champagne silk button up with sleeves cuffed halfway up his forearm. tan cargo shorts decorated his long legs. his frosty white hair brushing the tip of his eyelashes, bright blue eyes dressed with gold sunglasses. he had just finished unpacking your luggage.

you laid on your side in the large hotel villa bed, tired from the long flight from japan to mexico. your flowy white maxi sundress splayed out on the linen sheets. your hair was put up in a bun. a bright yellow flower tucked behind your ear, given to you by the villa concierge upon checking in.

“according to google, couples go on baby moons to spend quality time together before the baby arrives.” you explained, “—once baby gojo arrives, all my attention will probably be on them.”

satoru turned to face you and frowned, “not even a little attention for good ol' satoru gojo?” he leaned onto the bed, hovering over you, encasing you between his strong arms.

you looked at him and caressed his cheek with the palm of your hand, “nope. you did this to yourself when you got me pregnant, sweetheart.” you sneered at him, knowing it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“i’m jealous.” he said while frowning, “—you hear that, baby gojo? you’re stealing all my lovin’.” he leaned down to loudly say to your stomach, his cheek pressed right against your 7 month pregnant belly. you laughed as you felt baby gojo shift away in your womb in reply to satoru’s comment.

“it was nice of your brother to pay for this vacation for us.” satoru mentioned as he laid beside you. his head was aligned right next to your belly. he liked to think that baby gojo enjoyed listening to him talk to you, so he always laid his head next to your belly in hopes that his unborn child could recognize his voice.

your brother, touya, had surprised you and satoru with an all-expenses-paid trip to puerto vallarta, mexico. touya said it would be a ‘nice, romantic’ getaway for the two of you. however, your vacation got off to a rough start as you experienced nausea throughout the flight. it was a 15 hour flight to get here, and you did not bring enough sour candy or gingersnaps to last for the entire flight. you spent a majority of the flight trying to sleep instead.

“i’ll have to thank him again. should we send him a picture?” you suggested. satoru pulled out his phone and snapped a very unflattering picture of you to send to your brother.

“done.” he reported.

“—i meant a decent looking picture of the both of us.” you glared at him. he ignored you and continued to send his text message to touya. throughout the years that you and satoru have been together, satoru gained a brother figure in touya. being an only child was lonely for satoru, so he made an effort to have a close bond with touya.

[6:17pm] satoru gojo sent an image

[6:17pm] satoru: your sister is having a great time lol she was sick during the entire flight so we're resting before dinner 😅

[6:18pm] touya (l/n) laughed at an image

[6:18pm] touya: glad to see she’s having fun 🙄 lol

[6:19pm] satoru: thanks again for the vacation bro. 👊🏼 (y/n) really needed that.

[6:19pm] touya: anytime. have fun and be safe. i guess it’s too late for me to tell you two to use protection 😂

[6:20pm] satoru gojo laughed at a message

and satoru was definitely not going to tell you about that text.

“should we go through the ‘what to expect’ app before dinner?” he suggested. it was his favorite thing to do with you since you got pregnant. he wanted to know everything about your pregnancy and how baby gojo was developing. you appreciated how involved satoru was throughout your entire pregnancy. you couldn't ask for a better partner or a better father for baby gojo.

you pat your hand around the bed to find your phone, opening up the app to read out loud, “at 27 weeks, baby gojo is the size of a head of lettuce, is about two pounds and more than a foot long. this is the end of the second trimester.”

your doctor had told you not to travel internationally past 28 weeks, so you and satoru planned this baby moon right before the start of your third trimester.

“your voice is music to baby gojo’s ears.” you continued reading.

satoru grumbled, “—same for me. except when you’re yelling at me.”

you glared at satoru as he smirked at you innocently. ignoring him, you continued to read, “don’t be surprised if you feel little jumps in your belly, your little one might have the case of hiccups.” your heart melted at the thought, “—that is so cute.”

satoru took your phone from you and read the recap for week 27, “at a glance, your baby can hear you, baby has hiccups, and they will be developing muscle tone from being active.”

“baby gojo is a little gymnast in there.” you said to satoru. you wondered if your baby got their habit of being unable to sit still from their father. baby gojo was always active at night too. whenever the students wanted to feel baby gojo kick during the day, they were always sleeping.

“your baby may recognize both you and your partner’s voices by now. so this may be a good time to read or sing to your baby—or tummy.” satoru looked at you with excitement, “—i told you baby gojo recognizes my voice. should i start singing to them too?”

you laughed, “since you’re not that bad of a singer… go ahead. sing me a song, mr. gojo.”

one of your favorite memories with satoru throughout all your years of knowing the insufferable man was the day you went on your very first mission with him. you weren't even dating at the time, but the memory meant so much to you. you shared your earphones with him during the subway ride to chiba and showed him all your favorite old school songs that you and your late father loved. (read 'sleeping with the enemy' here)

“i’ve got sunshineeee, on a cloudy day. when it’s cold outsiiiiide, i’ve got the month of may. i’d. guess. you’d. say. what. can. make. me. feel. this. way. my giiiirl. talkin’ ‘bout my girl.” (a/n: click here to listen to the exact line and song satoru's singing if you don't know it, i time stamped it for you!)

you laughed and smiled in adoration at the man who just serenaded you and your pregnant belly. of course he’d choose the temptations for this occasion. baby gojo started kicking.

you leaned over to ask your belly, “did you like daddy’s singing?”

“did they kick?” satoru asked as he leaned forward to talk to your belly, “kick once for no, kick twice for yes.”

after waiting for a moment, you felt one kick, “sorry, you have a tough crowd, babe. it was one kick.” you reported back to the eager satoru.

“back to the app,” he said, ignoring you, offended that his baby didn’t appreciate his singing, “it says nearly 3 in 4 women experience swelling of the hands, feet, and ankles. so avoid sitting and standing for long periods. go on walks or try swimming.”

“we can try out the pool tomorrow.” you said. satoru’s attention still on the app.

“it says you should eat lots of salmon. it’s supposedly good for you and the baby.” satoru reported.

you started laughing, “okay, toge inumaki. let’s go get some dinner.”

the next day

“babe?” you called out to satoru, “can you help me tie my swimsuit?”

you frowned as you looked at yourself in the mirror. your body was unrecognizable to you. you couldn’t fit into any of your clothes. you didn’t feel like yourself as your body started to grow, and you were only going to get bigger and bigger thanks to your still growing baby inside of you.

satoru waltzed into the bathroom smelling like sunscreen. he was already in his tropical floral swimming shorts, shirtless, with a towel draped over his shoulder. why did he have to look like a chiseled greek god next to you? you felt like humpty dumpty next to him. he walked behind you to grab the loose bikini strings from your fingers, tying a secure knot for you. he snickered to himself because he wouldn’t care if they came undone, but he knew you would.

you turned away from him.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart? you’re usually the first one in the pool.” satoru asked as he followed your gaze in the mirror. he saw that you were examining yourself.

“i—just don’t really feel confident in my body right now...” you admitted in a quiet voice. the statement shattered his heart.

“you’re kidding me.” satoru scoffed, “—babe, you’re literally growing our perfect baby inside of you. you are the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my six eyes on.”

“maybe it’s the bikini. i should’ve opted for a one piece now that i’m pregnant.” you frowned as you looked down to run your fingers along the ruffles of your white two-piece swimsuit, your belly hanging out in the open in all its glory.

satoru made a face, “i hope baby gojo kicks you for saying that.”

and to your surprise, you felt an extra strong kick. it was like baby gojo heard him. satoru and your baby were ganging up on you already and baby gojo wasn’t even born yet.

satoru hugged you from behind. his strong arms making you feel safe. he always knew what to say to make you feel better again. he kissed your temple as you sighed.

“come on, let’s go for a swim.” he grabbed your hand to lead you to the pool right outside the private villa. he placed a pair of his black circular sunglasses on your face. he smeared sunscreen on your cheeks and traced a sunscreen shaped heart on your belly before helping you rub it in. a sloppy application from satoru, but you appreciated the sweet gesture. you massaged sunscreen on your arms as satoru helped you apply to your legs.

satoru watched you like a hawk as you stepped into the pool, afraid of you slipping while pregnant. you slowly walked deeper into the pool, the cool water rose to cover your belly and chest. after making sure you were okay, satoru ran to the opposite side of the pool and cannon-balled in, splashing water all over you. you giggled as you watched the white haired sorcerer swim towards you in the beautiful, clear water.

satoru popped out of the glistening water as if he was the little mermaid, throwing his snow-white hair back, shaking his head side to side so the water would fling off. he swam towards you. you reached for his shoulders as he pulled you closer, positioning your legs around his waist so he could take you further into the deep end. you wrapped your arms loosely around his broad shoulders as he held you by your thighs.

“you feeling better?” he asked as he booped your adorable button nose.

“a little—” you said as you wrinkled your nose. you traced your soft fingers along satoru's chest before asking him a question you were nervous to ask. “satoru—will you still love me if i don’t go back to how i looked like before i got pregnant?”

stunned at your ridiculous question, satoru asked, “what kind of question is that? of course i’ll still love you, babe. i’d even love you if you were still pregnant with the raging pregnancy hormones forever.”

you splashed water onto him, glaring through his sunglasses that were resting on your cheek and nose bridge, “you’re only saying that because my libido is higher than usual.”

“i'm just saying... a man will never complain about that.” satoru chuckled as he sarcastically spoke for all the men in the world.

“—then would you still love me if i was a worm?”

“that’s pushing it.” satoru bantered back. you splashed him with water again before resting your head on his chest. he floated with you in his arms for a moment, soaking up the sunshine. you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach along with your growing baby twisting and turning inside of you. your heart taking in the pure bliss you were experiencing just by being here in satoru’s arms. you wondered how satoru felt right now.

after spending about an hour wading in the pool with satoru, you looked over to see two hotel employees bringing out a tray of food.

“pardon our interruption señor gojo and señorita (l/n), we brought a late breakfast for you two to enjoy. this was requested from señor (l/n) early this morning.”

“gracias!” you thanked the hotel employee with the most basic spanish you learned while sitting on the 15 hour plane ride. satoru laughed at your enthusiasm. he admired how you always wanted to be courteous to others.

“are you and baby gojo hungry?” he asked as he started swimming towards the shallow end again. you nodded as you clung to him, planting a sweet kiss on the crook of his neck and shoulder. satoru got out of the pool first so he could help you out. he grabbed the towels sitting on the cabana chairs to dry you both off, wrapping the towel around your waist.

“wow, the food looks amazing.” you sat down and drooled over the spread that your brother ordered for you and satoru. your mouth watered. there was a selection of huevos rancheros, tamales, fried plantains, fresh local fruit, chorizo hash, eggs, bread and two large pitchers of orange juice and water.

satoru sipped his orange juice and watched your face light up as you sampled all the delicious food in front of you. a happy glow in your face that made him fall in love with you all over again. it reminded him of the first time you went to get ice cream together, the way your face lit up and you did your happy dance in your chair after tasting the sweet chocolate ice cream. you reached over to feed him a bite of the fried plantains. satoru hummed in approval.

you were like the sun to satoru. his whole world revolved around you, and you attracted anyone and anything that entered your orbit. it was probably why all the students and faculty loved you at jujutsu high. even strangers felt comfortable around you.

you made satoru’s world brighter. before you met him, he felt as if clouds shrouded his life at all times, unclear of what he wanted to do with his life. you pulled him out of that cloudiness and lit up every second of the day as soon as you came into his life (or ever since he broke into yours). you were the color in satoru’s world of black and white. you inspired him to be better, and he wanted to be a good man, just for you.

he was making it his mission to be the sun in your life, just like you were in his. it broke his heart knowing that you were starting to feel insecure in your ever-changing and growing body. and it made him even more sad knowing that you were questioning his love for you during this temporary change.

however, little did satoru know, he already was the sun in your life. he has been ever since you started dating, and you would be forever grateful to the 17 year old boy who broke your domain over a decade ago. without satoru’s love, you don’t know where you’d be right now. satoru's unconditional love was something you never thought you'd experience in this lifetime. (read ‘fated to love you’ here)

later that night

you and satoru held hands while walking the streets of zona romántica, one of the liveliest streets of puerto vallarta. your spirit birds flying overhead with you and satoru. every turn you and satoru took gave you a beautiful view of the mexican riviera. a mariachi band played in the cobblestone streets, and white-stucco buildings were decorated with bright orange, yellow, and red flowers.

"this city is so charming." you said, green eyes shining. you admired the architecture and all the bright colors in the streets as satoru led the way.

"what do you want to eat for dinner?" he asked while looking at a tourist brochure.

"i refuse to eat salmon again for dinner, so anything but that."

satoru looked down at you, azure blue eyes peeking through his sunglasses, "i read that there's a good tapas restaurant about a 20 minute walk from here. do you think you can walk that far?"

you laughed at his question, "satoru, i can still walk believe it or not."

he squeezed your hand as if he was saying 'okay, okay, you got me there'. you took the lead and guided him towards the malecón boardwalk. when you saw the sunset, you let go of satoru's hand, walking faster towards the view. the sunset was a mix of pink, purple, yellow, and orange. it was like a watercolor painting appearing in your eyes. the warm hues kissed the blues and greens of the ocean horizon.

while you admired the beautiful sunset, satoru admired the beautiful you. he snapped a couple pictures of you with his phone, afraid to forget the memory of how stunning you looked at this moment in time.

you were wearing a strapless white sundress, similar to the one you wore yesterday. your swimsuit lines from this morning showed off your golden tan you received while being here in mexico. the dress hugged your belly, but was loose enough to be comfortable for you to move around in without feeling restricted.

intricate blue flowers were sewn on the bottom fringe of your dress and a high leg slit showed off your pretty tan legs. your dress was paired with brown and white sandals that were comfortable enough for your swollen feet.

your long black hair was curled, flowing in the wind as you skipped lightly around the boardwalk. a large blue flower that matched satoru’s eyes was tucked behind your ear. it was almost sickening how much love he felt for you at this very moment.

"careful, sweetheart." satoru called out you as he put his phone back into his pocket, worried about you skipping around. he knew you’d complain about pelvic pain later tonight because of it. he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets, following you wherever your heart desired.

you turned around and gave him your world-class million dollar smile that always gave him butterflies even after all this time, "so, where's this restaurant?" (read ‘butterflies’ here)

after dinner

"satoru, look! everyone’s dancing!" you pointed as you and satoru walked out of the restaurant after a delicious dinner.

there was a large crowd on the boardwalk, dancing to reggaeton music that the local dj was playing. everyone was dancing, singing, and shouting the lyrics to the songs. they were having the time of their lives and you wanted to be a part of it too.

"do you want to spend some time out here before we head back to the villa?" satoru asked, noticing how entranced you were. you nodded excitedly.

you and satoru found a small table at a bar close by. you both ordered non-alcoholic drinks for clear reasons. satoru didn't like to drink alcohol and you were pregnant.

you sipped your virgin midori sour. the melon juice, tangy lime, lemon and club soda felt refreshing. your foot tapped on the wooden boardwalk to the melodic beat of the music playing.

"babe, do you want to go dance…?" you asked timidly.

satoru looked at you, surprised, "you want to dance? i never thought you'd asked." he laughed. he was usually the one that would have to drag you out to the dance floor.

satoru downed the rest of his way-too-sweet virgin strawberry daquiri and grabbed your hand to lead you to where the rest of the crowd was dancing. (satoru forced his infinity outward to make sure no one accidentally bumped into your belly, but you didn't have to know that.)

you swayed with the music, your hair bouncing as you bobbed your head to the beat. you spun around, dancing to your heart’s desire. your heart skipped a beat when you felt satoru's hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. he followed all of your movements as you danced around him. you turned to face him.

"satoru," you draped your arms around his broad shoulders, "i think people are staring at us."

"really? i didn't notice." satoru grinned, his attention was only on you tonight. he didn't even notice that you and him were the center of attention on tonight's dance floor. he couldn't care less. the only thing he cared about was you.

the dim street lights and twinkle lights hanging along the boardwalk emitted a soft glow on your rosy cheeks and emerald green eyes. satoru's heart raced at the view. how could one person be so perfect and so beautiful? he felt like he hit the jackpot to be able to call you his. he didn’t think he would ever be this lucky in another life.

he grabbed your hand to twirl you around, pulling you close for a moment, your back resting against his chest again. he kissed your bare shoulder just to spin you around for a second time. your sweet laughter filled his ears, his favorite sound in the world.

once everyone started to slowly leave the boardwalk, you both decided to call it a night. the moon reflected brightly on the mexican sands and dark blue ocean waters, guiding you back to the villa. and in that very moonlight, you shone brightly like a lighthouse beacon. it was something about the way you looked tonight that took satoru’s breath away. that damn pregnancy glow looked a thousand times more radiant in his six eyes and he couldn’t get enough of it.

*************************

after a relaxing shower to wash away the sweat from dancing, you and satoru laid in bed together, winding down for the night.

“did you know that if you press your ear against my belly, you might be able to hear baby gojo’s heartbeat?” you asked satoru as he put his phone down and turned to face you in bed.

"really?" satoru asked in amusement, "let me try it."

he leaned over towards you, resting his head gently on your belly.

"move your head over here," you guided his head to where baby gojo was in your womb.

the room fell silent. all you could hear was the ocean crashing against the rocks outside the hotel villa, the cool breeze entering the room, satoru's breathing and your own racing heartbeat. it was an intimate moment between the two of you.

satoru gasped, "i can hear it." he smiled brightly as he looked up at you. you smiled back at him, running your fingers through his soft white hair as he planted kisses on your bare belly.

"i wonder if you can sense any cursed energy from the baby." you asked him.

"i've been trying to ever since you got pregnant. i can't sense anything but yours." satoru said, "maybe our baby will be lucky and won't have any..." he trailed off.

"for some reason, i highly doubt that." you frowned. it would be a blessing if your baby didn't have to deal with curses, but coming from your clan and the gojo clan, it was more than likely your baby would be born with an innate cursed technique. plus, you felt something off about your cursed energy since you became pregnant. it was like someone else’s cursed energy was always there with you, and it wasn't satoru's residuals either.

"whether or not baby gojo has cursed energy, it wouldn't make me love them any less." satoru said quietly.

you chuckled at his ridiculous statement. "of course. this is our baby we're talking about. you better love them."

"—and just because your body is changing to grow our baby, my thoughts about how beautiful you are and how much i love you will never change." satoru added as-a-matter-of-factly.

“satoru… you’re embarrassing me.” you whined, hiding your blushing face in between the pillows. satoru took your fluffy shield away from you.

“don’t hide your beautiful face from me, woman!” he scolded you playfully. you intertwined your fingers with his as he leaned in for a kiss. he pulled you closer to him as you rested your head on his chest. you listened to his heartbeat, it was one of the most comforting sounds to fall asleep to.

“i love you, satoru.” you hummed.

satoru kissed each of your fingers, “i know.” he said confidently as you stared back up at him, waiting for him to say it back. “—i love you too, (y/n).”

“that’s what i thought.” you mumbled. “can you believe this is probably our last vacation as just us two? we’ll probably be too busy getting ready for baby gojo’s arrival to spend quality time together like this when we get home.” you said to him as you placed your hand against his. you were comparing the size of his hand to yours in the air.

he stroked your back gently with his unoccupied hand. he thought to himself for a moment. a playful grin spreading across his face, “guess we’ll just have to make the most of this baby moon then, huh?”

“—and just what do you mean by that?” you peered up at him.

satoru just smiled at you before he assaulted your neck and shoulder with a plethora of kisses. you squealed with laughter, pushing him away, trying to escape from his grasp.

“satoru, stop! that tickles!” you continued to laugh as he gently pulled you back to him with blue. he trailed kisses from your chest, up your neck onto your jawline, across your cheek to your nose, up your nose bridge to your forehead, and lastly, back down to your lips.

“for now, i don’t want to share.” he whispered in your ear.

ready to meet baby gojo? read the next chapter, 'hello baby' here.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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captain-hawks · 7 months

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CRIMSON INCLINATION

♡ — osamu miya x f!reader

It’s a ritual—the way Osamu shows you just how much he missed you after away games and training camps, in a tangle of limbs and lips and rumpled sheets. And despite the unfortunate timing of his latest return, to Osamu, it’s just an opportunity to try something new.

18+ ONLY

wc — 3.8k

prompt — period sex

additional content — established relationship, complete and total filth, sexting, blood, fingering, oral sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, so much cum + INARIZAKI UNIVERSITY!OSAMU

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

Osamu: catching the next train Osamu: be home by 6

After tapping out a response to Osamu, your finger idly swipes through the rest of the recent messages lingering in your text thread, including a gallery of incredibly unflattering pictures of Atsumu sleeping. But once you reach your conversation from several evenings ago, an ember of heat flares to life in your gut.

>>> Are you back at the hotel yet?

Osamu: not yet, out for dinner with the boys Osamu: whats up?

>>> Put your phone under the table ;)

Osamu: ???

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: FUCK Osamu: i miss you so much

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: fuckfuckfuckasdklj Osamu: wait Osamu: ok i’m in the bathroom now Osamu: [image sent]

>>> [video sent]

Osamu: i’m so fuckin hard right now christ Osamu: look what you do to me Osamu: [image sent] >>> The vibrator doesn’t feel as good as you :( >>> [video sent]

Osamu: babyalkdfjadsf Osamu: wanna feel you so fuckin bad Osamu: make a mess for me Osamu: please

>>> [image sent]

Osamu: good girl Osamu: fuck Osamu: oh oops Osamu: got cum all over the mirror and the sink Osamu: now Tsumu’s dumb ass is banging on the door Osamu: [image sent]

Your conversation had been interrupted part way by several text notifications popping up at the top of your screen from the blonder Miya—

Atsumu: Samu’s either fuckin dead in the bathroom right now Atsumu: or he’s jerkin off Atsumu: don’t answer that Atsumu: but either way can u tell him to hurry it up we need to pay the bill

—

Despite Atsumu’s entirely shameless attempts at flirting when you first met the twins during freshman orientation week at Inarizaki University several years ago, the more outspoken Miya never stood a chance. After learning you had only recently arrived in town from Tokyo, both brothers took it upon themselves to help you acclimate and find your way around, and much to the self-proclaimed eldest’s chagrin…you only had eyes for Osamu from the start.

Somewhere in between his softer disposition and wry sense of humor, Osamu had a habit of taking your breath away and filling in all the cracks of perpetual anxiety that you’d begun to splinter with over moving all the way to Hyōgo by yourself.

(“Yer really just gonna look me in the eye and say ya prefer the diet version of me?” Atsumu had balked the first time he caught the two of you fooling around on the couch, clutching his chest in mock-offense right before Osamu nailed him in the face with a throw pillow.)

To most, Osamu may seem like the more mild-mannered, less high-strung of the Miyas—which isn’t untrue, necessarily.

(Until the two of them start arguing, at which point it’s like watching a mirror hurl childish insults at itself for forty-five minutes straight.)

But that same untamed, wild energy that Atsumu radiates in spades isn’t entirely absent from your preferred twin, he just has a particular outlet where he lets that kindling spark and catch.

A far more private one.

Beneath those kind eyes, that gentle smile, and the soothing cadence of his voice, Osamu Miya is fucking filthy. In between the sheets, the wanton curve of his lips and his steely, lust-blown pupils are an omen of sinful intent, his rough, gravelly tone a hot, stroking caress that snags on each and every notch of your spine.

(“Forget what I said about never forgivin’ ya if you move out,” Atsumu had grunted over breakfast one morning in their old shared apartment. “If I have to listen to you two fuckin’ like bunny rabbits for one more night, I’m takin’ a bath with the toaster.”

“How ‘m I gonna make breakfast then?” Osamu lazily drawled around a mouthful of toast.

Atsumu taped a hand-written eviction notice on his bedroom door that afternoon.)

So the sex?

Fan-fucking-tastic.

But Osamu’s university volleyball career often finds him on the road between a constant array of games and training camps, which puts a bit of a damper on the frequency of your extracurricular activities in the bedroom.

(see also: the couch)

(see also, also: the shower)

(see also, also, also: the kitchen counter)

(...and that one time on Atsumu’s bed during a party—a secret you and Osamu will both take to the grave.)

Thus, more often than not, your text threads while he’s on the road shamelessly resemble low-budget erotica.

(Atsumu made the mistake of snatching his brother’s phone from him once at the wrong time on a particularly long bus ride.

He called him Ernest Dickingway for a month straight.)

Unfortunately for both of you, there’s something throwing a significant wrench into Osamu’s current plans to—in his words—fill you so deep when he gets home, it’ll still be leaking out of you tomorrow. Groaning as another sharp cramp in your abdomen overrides any lingering lustful thoughts, you sigh pitifully as you envision your boyfriend’s crestfallen expression at the terrible timing of your period.

—

You’ve only just shut off the scorching hot stream of water and wrapped a towel around your naked body when the bathroom door creaks open, Osamu’s gray head of hair poking through the doorway. A grin that sets your heart fluttering in your chest crosses his face as he catches your gaze, wasting no time in striding forward and cupping your face, kissing you hard.

“Hi,” he says quietly, carrying some of the chill from outside, and you can feel the smile on his face as he says the word against your lips.

“Hi,” you whisper, running your fingers over the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Missed you,” he exhales, lips careening off course and trailing along the curve of your jaw, nose nuzzling against the side of your neck.

“I missed you, too, Samu.”

Despite the fact that you’re dripping wet and naked beneath the towel, Osamu takes his time reacquainting himself with your lips first, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he places you up on the counter and loosens the fabric just enough to slot his body between your legs. Your heart burns bright, thrumming insistently in your chest as his tongue skirts along the seam of your lips, imploring them to part. Opening your mouth, he deepens the kiss, fingers dancing along the damp skin of your neck, still warm from the blistering heat of the shower water.

He tenderly kisses his way down to the hollow of your throat, lips skirting off to the side to wetly mouth at your left collarbone, earning him a sharp intake of breath as you react to the sensation. Your legs wrap around his waist as you scoot to the edge of the counter while pulling him flush against you, your towel falling further open. He groans, nipping at your tender skin while his erection strains against the front of his sweatpants and presses insistently at your core.

“I know ya said you wanted to order takeout first when I got home,” he groans, “but I don’t think I can wait.”

You don’t argue, and so with that, he picks you up, nudging the door open wider with his foot as he carries you toward the bedroom. Fingers fumbling with his shirt, you finally wrench it free and send it flying across the room right before both of you go tumbling atop the bed. Your towel falls open, leaving nothing left to the imagination as you lie splayed out naked atop the sheets, Osamu’s graphite eyes drinking you in.

“I’m never leavin’ you for that long again,” he breathes out as your toe catches in the waistband of his sweatpants, one of his hands reaching down to help you shuck them off. His boxers are fighting a losing battle against his throbbing erection, a dark spot of precum already staining the front of the cotton material.

“I don’t think your team would like that very much,” you muse, reaching up to twirl a rogue strand of his hair with your finger.

He takes your hand into his own, kissing the tips of each of your fingers. “I’ll quit ‘n open up an onigiri shop downtown instead. Then I’ll be home every night to see your pretty little face when I do this.”

Right on cue, your mouth falls open with a moan when he drags a hand up your side and palms at one of your tits, teasing your pebbled nipple with his thumb. While you’ve mostly dried off, his fingers slide through the damp area that remains on the underside of your breasts, spreading the thin sheen of water until your skin absorbs what’s left. Any and all remaining thoughts swiftly leave your head when you feel the huff of his hot breath against the swell of your breasts moments before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and begins to scrape his tongue against it.

Your breasts are so tender and swollen, the aching relief of his attentive touch makes your chest heave. And unfortunately, it’s also the sensation of Osamu suckling at your sore breasts that brings you crashing back down to reality, breaking through the dam of arousal to give way to an unfortunate reminder of why there’s a dull ache in your abdomen.

“Osamu…wait.”

He immediately pauses in his ministrations, fingers gently feathering over your skin as he looks up at you expectantly, spit-soaked lips slightly parted, hair already sticking up in several directions. “Hmm?”

“We might need to take a rain check on the sex,” you sigh, wincing at the feeling of another sharp cramp.

He furrows his brows, sitting up slightly and looking down at you with concern. “You alright?”

You mumble something about having your period under your breath. Not because you’re embarrassed—Osamu’s the poster boyfriend for doing tampon runs without so much as batting an eye—but rather because you feel bad that you completely forgot about it the moment he started kissing you.

Osamu’s quiet for a few moments, mulling over something in his head until he finally responds, “I don’t mind.”

You smirk. “Well yeah, I still have a mouth.”

He tilts his head to the side, an odd expression on his face. “S’not what I meant.”

There’s a butterfly-soft caress of fingertips dancing along the top of your thigh as he speaks, the silence that hangs between you now dripping with the implication of his words, adding an invisible weight to his touch.

With communication as a solid cornerstone of your relationship, neither of you has ever shied away from conversations about exploring different kinks and sexual desires—one of the most recent having found your legs wrapped around Osamu’s waist as he fucked you in the equipment room after practice, a scenario you’d jokingly tossed out across the mattress and into the meager space between your pillows one night.

(“Is it…weird that it turns me on imagining you fucking me in there after practice? Covering my mouth to try and keep me quiet so none of your teammates catch us?”

It’s something that people would expect from Atsumu, without a doubt.

But not from this Miya.

“Better wear that pretty new dress you just bought when ya come watch tomorrow’s practice, then.”)

And that’s what turns you on even more—knowing that you’re the only one that gets to experience that part of Osamu, sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead while he hotly mouths at the side of your neck in the dark, the sounds of his lingering teammates just on the other side of the closed door. The press of his hand against your lips, muffling the sounds the repeated thrusts of his cock are pulling out of you no matter how hard you try to stay quiet. His forehead against your own, a boyish grin on his face, shoulders shaking in breathless, silent laughter as the two of you narrowly avoid getting caught.

So standing on the precipice of trying something new with Osamu right now? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

But this.

Does he really mean…?

You’ve never dared entertain the thought, the mere idea of it a step too far to even consider broaching the topic. And yet Osamu seems entirely unruffled by his suggestion, like he hasn’t just thrown you completely off kilter.

“You want to…” you trail off, eyes darting down to your lower half before looking back up to meet his again.

“I bet you’re real sore and haven’t been feelin’ too good all day, huh?” he asks, fingers skimming over your hip bone. You nod in response, and he begins tracing circles up the inside of your thighs as he continues, “Well…how about I make you feel real good now?”

If Osamu wasn’t the one that brought up the idea in the first place, you’d be embarrassed by how turned on you feel at the thought of him delving between your legs at this exact moment.

Glancing at the bed, you thumb the edge of the towel that you’re still lying on top of. “It’ll probably get…messy.”

He leans down, ghosting his lips over yours in a whisper of a kiss. “And if I said I want ya to make a mess for me?”

The sharp feeling in your gut isn’t pain this time, but a searing jolt of desire that makes you restlessly shift beneath him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so goddamn hard just thinkin’ about it,” he tells you, voice rough.

Letting your entire body relax, you whisper, “Then touch me, Osamu.”

Osamu’s eyes remain trained on yours as his hand makes its way between your legs, your breath hitching in your throat when he deftly swipes a finger through your drenched folds. Your slit is soaked in arousal, but it’s also dripping with blood. You know just how slick and dirty it feels—you’ve touched yourself like this in the shower before. But to have someone else’s fingers rubbing deliberate circles over your fluttering entrance, smearing your bodily fluids along the inside of your thighs?

It’s absolutely filthy, and you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt so turned on in your entire life.

He watches you with rapt attention, gray eyes darkening like a storm as he drinks the way your body trembles with each stroke. Without warning, Osamu sinks a single finger into your cunt, the simple sensation nearly shoving you over the precipice of an early climax. You keen underneath him, legs spreading wider to bring him deeper inside of you.

“Osamu,” you exhale, biting down hard on your lower lip.

He groans, inadvertently grinding his cock down against your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Holy shit.”

A second digit joins the first, if only for the novelty of it, because you’re so goddamn soaked there’s no need to actually prepare your cunt for the stretch of his cock. He crooks his fingers, dragging them along your plush inner walls, and you whine, running your hands over your swollen breasts.

“Feels so good, Samu.”

He begins to roughly palm himself through his boxers, the leaking head of his cock poking up through the waistband that’s now shifted low on his hips.

“You have no idea what I wanna to do to you right now, ” he tells you, his own imminent loss of composure evident in his rasping tone.

“Show me,” you plead as you rock your hips.

But for all that Osamu’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to do this, you’re still not expecting what happens next—his head between your thighs, the press of his fingers inside of you replaced by a broad stroke of his tongue up your slit. You cry out, bucking your hips into his touch as he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before returning his attention to your quivering entrance.

His hands grasp the inside of your thighs, and all you can do is brokenly moan as he slips his tongue into your cunt. The sounds of him eating you out are downright obscene, the wet squelch of his mouth devouring your bloody, soaked pussy leaving you in a dizzy haze of arousal. Osamu, meanwhile, is just as affected as you are, his boxers askew, ass partially hanging out as he ruts against the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for the heat churning in your gut to start to unfurl, your muscles going taut with the rapid approach of your climax. And Osamu, ever the overachiever, is quick to shove two fingers back into your cunt, the pads of the digits curling tight to firmly stroke your spongy inner walls as he sloppily mouths at your clit.

If his intention was to make you squirt, something he’s become mildly obsessed with since the first time it accidentally happened, he passes with flying colors. His name is a choked out sob on your lips as your orgasm rips through you, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you moan and shudder. Osamu groans loudly against your pussy, and you shudder with oversensitivity as he laps up everything you give him.

“Almost came in my pants,” he breathes out unsteadily as he looks up at you, wiping at the blood that’s smeared all over his lips and cheeks with the back of his hand. It’s a futile effort, and he opts to use the corner of the towel instead, though it still leaves behind a lewd stain on his skin.

“Glad you didn’t,” you reply, running a hand over the outline of his dick.

“Mmm, why’s that?” he asks, shifting his body to finally slip his boxers off.

The idea of him humping the bed so desperately while eating you out that his boxers are sticky and soaked with cum afterward is undeniably hot, yes. But—

An image of Osamu’s cum and your blood dripping out of your cunt and down the inside of your thighs flashes through your head, and it’s all you can do not to impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s bobbing between his legs.

“Want you to fill me up,” you murmur, sliding one of your own fingers through your folds.

There’s an awkward beat where you regret letting those words slip, belatedly uncertain of where Osamu might draw a line between himself and the bloody mess between your legs. You’re not even sure if the two of you have any condoms lying around currently.

But you’re both on the same page, because he lets out a shuddering breath as he notches the head of his flushed cock at your entrance and firmly squeezes the base. “Feel like ’m gonna come as soon as I put it in.”

The mere thought of just how close to the edge Osamu already is sends a bolt of desire surging between your legs. And even if he does blow his load prematurely, you know he’ll be fucking his cum right back into you the moment he coaxes his dick back to life again anyway.

“What're you waiting for?”

Osamu plunges into your cunt, your tight walls so slippery with fluids that he immediately bottoms out, slamming into your cervix. You both moan in unison, the blood, cum, and arousal creating a far more wet and slippery surface than any of the various bottles of lube nestled in the drawer of your nightstand could ever hope to achieve.

“Haaaaaaaaaah—fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, forehead falling against yours as he involuntarily jerks against you.

“Holy shit,” you echo his sentiment, fingernails digging into his back.

Osamu begins to move, though his normally precise, thorough thrusts are far sloppier than usual, thanks to unbelievably slick tunnel your cunt has become, paired with his downright lust-fuelled, pussy drunk state. You’re desperately pliant beneath him, your cunt greedily sucking his cock back in with each wet, heavy stroke.

You can only imagine how his shaft looks right now—painted red with blood, sticky with cum, and glistening with the sheen of your arousal. Each plunge of his shaft into your sodden hole elicits the filthy, lewd sound of excess fluids squirting and dribbling out from between the two of you, dripping onto the towel below. Pleasure builds rapidly in your abdomen as you both fight to keep any semblance of a rhythm, though it’s ultimately a lost cause.

“This is so fuckin’ hot,” Osamu pants, hardly able to get the words out between his groans.

His thumb finds your clit again, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he makes contact with the sensitive cluster of nerves. “Come for me again,” he murmurs.

Osamu Miya never needs to ask you twice.

The ache between your thighs flares white-hot, a scorching wave spreading beneath your skin as you reach the crest of your climax. Osamu fucks you through your trembling bliss as you whimper and moan beneath him, his own composure walking a tightrope as your walls spasm and contract around his thick shaft.

“Come in me,” you whine, the back of your head still pressed firmly into the pillow as your body slowly begins to relax from its tense, arched position.

With no willpower left to stave off his orgasm after resisting the urge to let your slick cunt milk his cock the moment he sunk into the heat between your thighs, Osamu gives you one last sloppy thrust.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moans, burying his shaft balls deep in your wet cunt.

Your sensitive walls flutter around his cock as he pulses deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with thick, hot cum. And even when he begins to pull his shaft from the warm confines of your pussy moments later, he still can’t stop coming. A broken moan crawls up his throat as he grabs his slick, throbbing cock with one hand, the other fingering your succulent, fucked out hole while a creamy flood of blood and cum drips out of you. He fists his length as he finger fucks you, groaning as more ropes of his sticky cum paint your thighs and your stomach.

“One more,” he chokes out roughly, completely fucking gone on the filthy, depraved mess you’ve both made.

It’s too much.

It's not enough.

Your cunt is so overstimulated, you’re oscillating between pleading moans and desperately gasping for air.

But Osamu knows you, knows how much you love when he pulls every possible orgasm out of you, till you’re a moaning, shuddering, cum-soaked mess for him.

And after the last remaining coil inside of you snaps, leaving you to whine his name as you buck upward into his touch, Osamu’s softening cock nearly jumps back to life, one last spurt of cum dripping out and landing squarely on your clit.

He collapses beside you afterward, arm slung across your chest as he nuzzles against your shoulder, and you can feel the sheepish grin spread across his lips as he mutters against your skin, “Yer tellin’ me I get a whole week of this?”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya smut #miya osamu smut #miya osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #dee writes

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junnieverse · 8 months

Text

— NI-KI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend ni-ki thoughts

pairing: nishimura riki x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warning: not proofread (may be minor typos)

request: " Heyy!! Could i request a Ni-ki as your bf ? "

a/n: thank you so much anon for requesting it, I hope you liked this <3

the best friend sort of boyfriend

you and riki are that comfortable with one another that he feel more like your friend alot of the time, sometimes it slips your mind you're actually dating him

super playful boyfriend, he's always teasing you or play fighting you because he loves to hear the sound of your laughter

will either be sending you a bunch of memes and tiktoks or he could actually not text you for the entire day because he was gaming, there's no in between with him

you're his gaming partner by default now (I hope you're good because you've got yourself quite the competitive boyfriend) but if you're not the best gamer out there then he's definitely gonna teach you

he's always telling you stories about his family or the other members because those are the most important people in his life

you get riki's lover wardrobe privileges

I'm talking full access to his closet, he gives you free reign to pick whatever of his you want and you get to wear it, the bonus is that it smells like him too :)

arcade dates >>>

and just fun and active dates in general like amusement parks, go karting and etc are guaranteed to be the best time spent with riki

he may have a whole bunch of beautiful pictures of you but that's just about 30% of it, the rest of the 70% is unfortunately crack, 'unflattering' candid photos he's taken of you when you weren't paying attention

he will use those meme photos of you to post on your birthday but you also have a bunch of embarrassing photos to use against him too

best believe if you aren't pranking other people together then he's probably planning to prank you

not sure whether he loves you or your bed more because he's always sleeping there

sometimes he calls you on video call just to see your face and say nothing at all after that, you both probably end up falling asleep on that call but he also took a few screenshots too because you sleeping was just too adorable

late night walks with him and then proceeding to take a whole bunch of pictures together because you're a photogenic couple

not necessarily the best at comforting you with warm words but is better at making you laugh until you feel better

most likely has your name saved as something humorous instead of cute and romantic but honestly speaking, you probably do too

would have this little habit of holding onto your pinky or linking your pinkies together

makes sure to call you every day or send you videos of his adventures while he's on tour

you had once hand made a little bracelet for him and he has never taken it off since then because it holds alot of sentiment for him

has a whole playlist dedicated to you too specially curated with songs you both enjoy or remind him of you

calling each other "bro", "dude" and "bruh" affectionately is normalised in your relationship

doesn't like to admit it but it's pretty clear he's quite clingy with you, he's always around you because even a second away he forgets how to breathe, not my words but his

he is OBSESSED with kissing you, he is always showering you with kisses and hugs in a passive aggressive way

going shopping together has become a form of a date between you both too

having similar styles, you're both able to help each other pick outfits and accessories that compliment one another

"Riki, would you love me if I was a worm?"

"Bisco might end up accidentally eating you, I can't let you suffer that way... let's just be boneless and limbless together. Then have a worm wedding :)"

#junnieverse.zip #ni ki #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #enha #enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki headcanons #ni ki fluff #ni ki scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop headcanons #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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kentosbabes · 11 months

Note

Can you pls make some headcanons of college bf Nanami

OFC!!

Collage boyfriend Nanami;

Nanami always waits outside your class to surprise you with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek before you guys head off to grab lunch together.

On your study nights, Nanami prepares a cosy study corner with dimmed lights, snacks, and a playlist of calming music to help you concentrate.

You both have a favorite spot in the library where you often study together, stealing glances and sharing secret smiles amidst the stacks of books.

Nanami leaves cute and encouraging sticky notes in your textbooks or laptop bag to brighten your day during stressful exam periods.

Whenever you are feeling overwhelmed, Nanami surprises you with impromptu coffee dates, taking you to a local café where you can unwind and enjoy his company.

Nanami loves to cook for you, especially when you are too busy to prepare a meal. He surprises you with homemade dinners, showing his love through the food he creates or the pastries he bakes for you.

Nanami and you have a standing Friday night tradition of movie marathons in his dorm room. You snuggle up together, surrounded by blankets and pillows, and watch your favourite horror flick.

Nanami leaves little love letters hidden in your backpack or under your pillow, expressing his affection and reminding you how much you mean to him.

Nanami is your biggest supporter in all your extracurricular activities, cheering you on from the sidelines and capturing candid photos of you in action, he scrapbooks them and gifts them to you as a surprise for your birthday.

Whenever Nanami and you have a free weekend, you embark on spontaneous day trips to nearby towns or parks, exploring new places and creating unforgettable memories together.

Nanami surprises you with little care packages during midterms and finals week, filled with your favourite snacks, motivational quotes, and small tokens of encouragement, like printed silly selfies of you both hanging out.

Nanami is always there to lend a listening ear when you need to vent about your shit professors, assignments, or any challenges you face. He provides a safe space for you to express yourself.

Nanami takes you on mini adventures around campus, like late-night stargazing on campus or exploring hidden nooks and crannies of the uni grounds.

Nanami attends your performances or presentations, it doesn’t matter what it is, it could be a dance recital, a poetry reading, or a research symposium, showing his unwavering support and pride in your accomplishments.

Nanami surprises you with handwritten love letters, each one expressing his deepest feelings and appreciation for you. You secretly keep a collection of them, treasuring every word. They are hidden in a shoebox under your dorm bed.

Nanami is the designated photographer in your relationship, capturing candid and loving moments that you can look back on and smile about for years to come.

Nanami remembers important dates and anniversaries, surprising you with thoughtful gifts or planning special outings to celebrate your milestones together.

Nanami respects your need for personal space and alone time, understanding that college can be overwhelming. He gives you the freedom to recharge and supports your self-care routines.

Nanami has a blurry and kinda unflattering picture of you as his background on his phone and smiles a little when he sees it.

Masterlist

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granolawriting · 7 months

Text

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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wildernessuntothemselves · 1 year

Text

You Are My Queen Now | Final Part

Word Count: 15.4k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: somnophilia, dry humping, thigh riding, cunnilingus, mentions of domestic abuse, physical fight, handjob, boobjob, gyu being pussy whipped, slutshaming, gore, major character death, and some other warnings i can't give without spoiling the ending but just know it's a very dark fic

“Beomgyu, what are you doing? Get down from there!” You shout, noticing Beomgyu scaling one of the nearby walls of the garden.

“I’ll be right down” He yells back to you over his shoulder.

“You’re not a boy anymore. You could fall down and hurt yourself.”

“I won’t.” He protests stubbornly, his words faltering as he almost loses his footing on the wall, making you gasp, your heart plummeting down the same way you imagined he would have.

“Beomgyu, don’t stress me out like this. It’s bad for the baby.” You wail, your pregnant state lending a nice vulnerable effect to your pleading words. It works very well because in the next moment Beomgyu gives in and starts climbing back down the wall. He walks towards you with shoulders slumped and a dejected frown on his face

“What has gotten into you?” You ask him and he shrugs. “I wanted to get you a sunflower.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the silly reason behind his dangerous action, an unwanted memory of pearl necklaces and bloody bandages springing forth into your mind. You shake your head to dispel the intrusive thoughts. “You could’ve had one of the gardeners get one.”

“But that’s not the same.” He whines, plopping down to the floor next to you. “I wanted to get you one, you know, like old times. But all I got are these stupid flowers.” He throws said flowers at your feet, sulking.

You roll your eyes at his little tantrum. “Beomgyu, you shower me in gifts every day.”

“I know but it doesn’t mean much anymore. I want to give you something meaningful to cheer you up.” He sighs, getting closer to you and cupping your face between his hands. You refrain from pulling back at his words that remind you why you’re in such a sour mood. “I hate seeing you so sad.”

Lately, there have been a lot of unflattering rumors swirling around about you following your wedding and especially after your pregnancy has been announced. People have been calling you all kinds of nasty things–a homewrecker, a cheater, disloyal, unworthy… and of course, a whore.

Among Taehyun’s supporters, you’re seen as an adulterer who betrayed her husband and spread her legs for the king in order to win the crown. They theorize that you’ve been prostituted since a young age by your own father (a claim you have no doubt has been pushed primarily by Heejin’s family) and planted at the palace to seduce to the younger prince before jumping to Taehyun when the king refused to let Beomgyu marry you, then jumping back to Beomgyu when his father was out of the picture.

Even among those who support Beomgyu, you’re seen as a low-born noble who clawed her way up the ranks by seducing the king and having him get rid of his rightful wife. They believe you not fit to be his queen, that you’re below him because you’re not only not royal but that you don’t even bring him or the kingdom any political or monetary advantages. On the contrary, you only bring them war and death.

Neither side is kind to you. They both see you as the whore who bewitched the two men. How else could a woman of your standing get these two powerful men to fight over you to the death like this?

“I only wanted to do good.” You look down in pain. You didn’t expect Taehyun’s men and his people to hold any fondness for you but for even Beomgyu’s vassals and the common people to view you so disfavorably? It crushed you. "I tried to help them. Why are they doing this?"

“Do you want me to stop the project? Round up those who talk ill of you and punish them?” Beomgyu asks firmly, that fiery anger he gets when someone hurts you blazing in his eyes.

You shake your head. "No. Let them. They're not worth my time." It’s no use, punishing them won’t make it any better. They’ll just hate you more. Only Beomgyu loves you. You will be safe as long as you stay by his side. Only he can ever love you.

He sighs defeatedly. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”

“Come, lie down on my lap.” You gesture to him and he obeys, laying his head on your thighs and facing your growing belly. He kisses it, grinning in that endearing way that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart leap in your chest. “I can’t wait to meet you, baby.”

You smile at his airy giggles and pick up one of the flowers he collected, snapping off most of the stem so you can nestle the rest between the strands of his hair. You then grab another flower and do the same until his hair is filled up with the colorful petals in a delicate crown upon his head.

“Stunning.” You awe, prodding his head up just a little bit to see your handiwork.

“Am I?” He arches one eyebrow, teasing.

“Very. But you could look even more stunning.” You ponder, taking off your necklaces and wrapping them around his neck one by one. “Now I know why you love dressing me up so much.” You half-tease, half-swoon at how breathtaking he looks with the mess of different flowers in his hair and your necklaces draped around his neck. He looks just like what you imagined those woodland nymphs you read about in your books would look like. “Remember when I used to put makeup on you when we were kids?”

He laughs heartily at the memory. “Of course, you always had fun at the beginning but then you’d get all pouty and annoyed and huff about me looking prettier than you.”

“Well, you were.” You cross your arms over your chest, huffing.

Beomgyu suddenly sits up and pulls you onto his lap, burying a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and pressing your face inches from his. “And now? Still think I’m pretty?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling hot. “Well, yeah… But also sexy.”

He smiles, pleased, and pulls you into a sweet kiss.

But when he pulls back, face still so close to yours, you can easily see the bags under his eyes that droop heavily from fatigue. As far as you know, he’s winning the war, but that triumph necessitated an insurmountable amount of work and time spent in meetings and war councils that went on from the brink of dawn till late at night. He still made sure to put aside time to spend with you and the baby growing in your belly, but even that must be taxing on his already depleted energy.

You know you shouldn’t feel bad for him–he’s doing this to get rid of his one and only competition–but your heart can’t see your Beomgyu suffer and not ache along with him. You know if you tell him to go take a nap, he would refuse, insisting that spending time with you was more important than even his own health, so you go with the next best thing.

You lay him back on your lap, running your fingers through his silky hair while you murmur a slow love song to him, trying to lull him into a peaceful sleep right there in your arms.

“No, I don’t want to sleep.” He whines, catching onto what you’re doing. After all, you’ve been doing it for a few days now.

“Please, baby, for me?” You whisper softly, trying not to scare away the sleep from his pretty eyes. “I need a little nap.”

“Oh, well if you need it.” He yawns, giving in. wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into your belly.

You smile at your tired lover fondly, leaning back against the tree behind you and closing your eyes before beginning to sing again, the both of you drifting into a peaceful, warm slumber under the soothing rays of the dazzling sun.

______________________________

You wake up with a liquid heat gathered in the pit of your stomach. Anyone else experiencing this strange sensation might've thought it unusual, but not you. You’re quite used to it by now.

You register Beomgyu’s wet tongue lapping at your pussy before you even open your eyes to confirm it. Beomgyu has been at this for weeks, starting the day with his face buried between your legs. He has been even more insatiable ever since he got you pregnant. He can’t even look at the little bump of your belly without getting heated up.

As for you, you've heard that pregnancy can decrease your libido and make you withdraw from sex but in your experience, it's been quite the opposite and Beomgyu was more than happy to satisfy your heightening needs. Even when you aren’t in the mood to have actual sex, Beomgyu would content himself with eating you out and jerking himself off like he's doing right now.

Basically he would wake you up with his face buried in your pussy and if you were in the mood, you would grab his hair and pull him up to get fucked and if you weren’t in the mood you'd just let him give you a nice little orgasm while he got himself off too–a little something to get the both of you through the day.

You feel Beomgyu’s hands leave your thighs and move up your body to push your delicate nightdress down to expose your breasts, moaning out as they come into his view. "They're getting bigger, huh?"

You blush under his lewd gaze. "Yeah."

"Push them together." He groans, jerking urgently at his cock.

Beomgyu has always liked your breasts, and now that they’ve been getting bigger, he’s become positively obsessed with them. Whenever you two are alone, things would always devolve into him latching onto them, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh until it’s all red and glistening with his saliva. Even when he is too busy to properly pay them attention to them because he has to do paperwork or the like, he would sit you on his lap and write with one hand while holding one of your breasts with the other, intermittently squeezing it like his own personal stress reliever as he reads over and signs the documents.

You obey his request, pushing your breasts together and flicking your fingers over your nipples, whining at him for neglecting your pussy for those few seconds. "Puppy."

Maybe you're more horny than you thought.

"Want me to take you, baby?" He bites his lip, noting the way your pussy gushes between your splayed legs.

You do, but you want to mess with him even more so you shake your head. "No. Want my king to hump the bed like the horny dog he is."

Beomgyu doesn’t shy away for a second, biting his lip at your filthy request. "I got you, my queen."

He leans down to catch your pussy with his mouth once again while simultaneously pushing a couple of fingers inside you. But it wasn’t his mouth or his fingers that truly drove you insane, it was the way he ground his hips against the mattress in pace with his pumps as if he was imagining it was his dick fucking you instead.

You love seeing him so needy for you, yet so obedient. He’ll take anything you give him even if that was just your attention as he got the both of you off.

And it doesn’t take him long to do that. He cums first, his moans half-muffled by your pussy before he pulls his head up to let you look at his face that is twisted in pleasure, just like he knows you like. His fingers keep pumping rapidly into you as his own hips stutter and he stares at you, slack-jawed and pleading.

“Cum for me, my queen.”

“Beomgyu, fuck!” You scream, grabbing him by the hair and pushing his head back down, grinding yourself against his pretty face as you orgasm.

Fuck, how have neither of you had your fill of each other yet? How are you just as needy now as the first night even as you lay boneless in your post-orgasmic bliss?

Beomgyu climbs up your body to press a soft kiss against your lips, giggling when you kiss him back dazedly. “I really tired you out, huh?”

“Just a little bit.” You answer lazily, leaning into his touch as he carasses your body. "You don’t have to leave the bed, you know? I can have the maids come and take care of everything, get you your food, your painting supplies… my mother says pregnant women need plenty of rest."

You roll your eyes. He’s been trying to stop you from making even the slightest bit of effort ever since the pregnancy was discovered. "I'm not that heavily pregnant yet. I can still move."

"I know. I just want you to be safe and comfortable. Both of you." He rubs your belly lovingly.

"We are, puppy." You really are. Beomgyu is going above and beyond to make you happy. He has put himself completely at your beck and call–along with everyone he rules and everything he owns. You want for nothing in your blissful little bubble that he has made for you.

Only, you wish that bubbles weren’t so fragile. No matter how much he and you try, you can never completely keep the bad thoughts and horrible dread at bay. He doesn’t tell you but you know he is closing in on Taehyun now. You hear it all around the palace, and you worry that you will receive news of his demise any day now.

That is why you sorely need any distraction you can get. You can’t stay in bed with your calamitous thoughts all day.

You shake your head at Beomgyu and smile. “Don’t worry about me. I just want to spend some time with my friends.”

____________________________

Friends–a word that has been foreign to you all your life, but somehow you’ve managed to gain a few friends this time around–made yourself a little group from among the ladies in waiting and others who frequented Beomgyu’s court.

You can’t say that you’re close to most of them, nor do you really talk about your private affairs but it's still nice to be around people who are there by their own volition rather than having been forced to accommodate you because the royals ordered them to.

Yes, you’re not close to them but that doesn’t mean you know nothing of their situations. Secrets aren’t a thing in the socially intricate and gossipy landscape of a royal palace, and everyone’s business gets passed around like a particularly sublime wine for all to enjoy. And now that you have your own circle of friends, you too get to be privy to those poorly-kept secrets. You learn that you weren’t misery’s sole companion, that everyone else is touched by it too.

Even the high-bred ladies suffer from their own misfortunes; Lady Minjun can't give her husband a child and he resents her for it, making his distaste clear by sleeping around and fathering numerous bastards from other women. Lady Namjoo’s husband prefers the company of men. Lady Hayoon’s in-laws aren’t fond of her and they make it their personal mission to sabotage her marriage to her husband who won’t even stand up for her in front of his family. And Lady Chaeyoung's husband hurts her behind closed doors.

Chaeyoung was the first of your so-called friends. After she had cheekily congratulated you for putting Heejin in her place, you two started speaking more and more and eventually became close–well, as close as the situation permits. She had a quiet demeanor which made her blend into the background when she was around other ladies, which is why you didn’t take much note of her before, but when you were alone, she demonstrated an impressive sharpness of wit and a penchant for bluntness that you’ve quickly grown to appreciate.

Out of all the ladies you’ve befriended, she was the one you’re most likely to actually consider a friend. Which is why you were all the more heartbroken when you noticed the suspicious marks on her skin.

She had at first dismissed your concerns, chalking the bruises up to her being clumsy and unintentionally hurting herself. But you’ve never known her to be particularly graceless and the shape of fingerprints on her skin was unmistakable. Eventually, after much insistence and prodding on your part, she told you the truth, confiding in you that when her husband loses his temper, he often times takes it out on her.

You were horrified to hear that. Her husband is a big brute and she’s such a frail little thing–how can he hurt her like this? You wanted to get Beomgyu involved immediately, knowing he’s the only person powerful enough to put a stop to this, but she adamantly refused, insisting that her husband didn’t mean it and that he promised her that he would stop. You didn’t believe him. That’s what they all say, only to turn around and hurt you again and again. Still she had begged you not to tell Beomgyu and you didn’t on the condition that if he does it one more time, you’d have no choice but to tell.

And here she is again, with the marks of his anger on her body.

“What is this?” You ask Chaeyoung, grabbing onto her arm where you can see a bluish bruise peeking out of her sleeve.

She yanks her arm back and tries to cover it. "It's nothing, my queen."

“It’s not nothing.” You scoff, keeping your voice low so that the other ladies won’t hear. "Is your husband hurting you again?"

"It’s my fault. I drove him to it. If I had just listened, he wouldn’t have needed to act that way." She hurries to defend him, and something about her response makes you both livid and profoundly sad.

“No! It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare say that again.” You hiss lowly, set off by her words. “He is the one to blame. He is the one who hurt you, and he has to answer for what he did.”

“No!” She panics, shaking her head vehemently. “Please, don’t! Just let it go, my queen. I’m fine.”

“He can’t keep getting away with this. I won’t let him. If you don’t want Beomgyu to know then I’ll confront him myself.” You get to your feet, your mind made up. You don’t listen to her cries and pleads. You can’t really hear them, too focused on the ringing between your ears and the unbidden tears springing to your eyes.

You march towards where you know he would be and demand to talk to him alone, all the while Chaeyoung keeps trying to get you to back down. You pull him out of whatever meeting he’s in, demanding to speak to him alone. He has to oblige you. You’re his queen after all, and so he follows you to an empty room where the three of you can be alone–well you three and the guards who stick to you closer than your own shadow.

“What is the matter, my queen?” Lord Myeong, her husband, asks with faux-politeness, looking between the two of you. He never was quite able to sell the fake respect the other lords and ladies have had to treat you with ever since you got married to Beomgyu, his disdain of you managing to shine through every time.

“The matter is that you dare to lay your savage hands on her. What kind of man lays a hand on his own wife?” You shout at him, your voice shrill with disgust.

Realization dawns on his face and he glares at Chaeyoung. “What happens between a man and his wife is only for them to know.” He tells you, a sharp edge to his voice, but he still tries to maintain his affected cordiality.

You, on the other hand, don’t bother with those stupid pretenses. “Not when your ugly handprints are all over her skin for everyone to see. What is the matter with you?”

“I was merely punishing her for acting out. I have the right to discipline my wife.”

“She is not a child or a misbehaving dog. She is your wife. How could you do this to the woman you vowed in front of the gods to love and protect?”

The man rolls his eyes and looks at you like you’re wasting his time with your silly womanly wiles, and it makes you almost burst from the anger building up inside you. “I am your queen and I demand that you never lay a single finger on her again.” You command forcefully but the man dismisses you as if you were nothing, always nothing.

“Should I now?” He asks cockily, eyeing you up and down. “Maybe if the king disciplined you once in a while, you’d learn your place.”

His words make you see red, and before you can control yourself you launch yourself at him, punching him right across his unpleasant face, hearing a crack as your fist connects with his nose.

"You fucking bitch!" He howls, touching his nose in shock, his teeth grinding together when his fingers come away bloody. “I’ll fucking get you for that–”

You tense up, preparing to fight as the huge man advances on you. What did you do? You can’t take him. He is too big and strong to fight off. Unless…

Your hand reaches for the dagger tucked away inside the skirt of your dress, prepared to do anything to protect yourself in your moment of madness. Thankfully, before he can reach you, the guards step in to shield you.

“Back away.” The head knight barks at lord Myeong, his deep voice booming around the room.

Lord Myeong stops in his tracks, vexed but not about to lose his life over this. “Of course, the whore hides behind the king’s men.” He spits out before turning his furious gaze towards Chaeyoung who was shaking in the corner. “Wait till we get home.”

He tries to grab her but you quickly order the guards to stop him. They do, shoving him away from the small woman. But when you order them to throw him out of the room, they refuse.

“I’m your queen. You obey when I order you to do something.” You hiss at them but they don’t budge.

“Fine. We’ll see what the king has to say about your disobedience.” You scoff and attempt to exit the room yourself but they stand in front of the door, blocking your way out. “We’ve already sent word out for the king. No one is going to leave this room before he gets here.”

“Some queen you are.” Myeong snorts and you go to attack him again in reflex, burning in humiliation, but the guards step in and hold you back this time.

“Let go of me.” You scream, fear and panic spiking inside you at the traumatic memories that being restrained brings back. You kick one of them in the shin, getting him to let you go before you punch the other one in the stomach, freeing yourself and moving away from them.

“Don’t you dare touch me again.” You heave out frantically.

“Crazy bitch.” You hear lord Myeong mutter under his breath, further igniting your rage but you don’t try to attack him again, focusing your energy on trying to get out of the room that suddenly feels all too suffocating.

“Let me out.” You try again but they refuse, on their guard for any further attacks from you.

“Let me fucking out!” You scream, growing more and more agitated with every passing second.

Thankfully, Beomgyu arrives at this moment, bursting through the doors and rushing towards you at the first glimpse of your panicked state. “What is going on? Why are you screaming? Are you okay?”

“These imbeciles don’t know how to carry orders from their queen.” You hiss in the direction of the guards, still disquieted but feeling better now that Beomgyu is right next to you. “They refused to let me leave. They even fucking restrained me.”

“Is that true?” Beomgyu turns on the guards and the head knight stutters out, no longer sounding so frightening when faced with the king’s wrath. “S-she was attacking lord Myeong, my king. We j-just thought you’d prefer to sort things out before we let her go.”

“Well, next time don’t think.” Beomgyu barks at them, “She’s your queen and you will obey her orders unless you want to be thrown in the cells.”

“Y-yes, my king.” He backs off, and bows to you. “I’m sorry, my queen.”

The rest of the guards echo his words, their apologies soothing your fire a little bit. But then Beomgyu turns to you and snuffs it out all together. “Now, what happened here?”

"Nothing, my king." Lord Myeong straightens out as he talks to his king–so different from how he addressed you.

Your scoff at his changing attitude catches Beomgyu’s attention and he turns back to you, seeking an answer, but you don’t say anything, too embarrassed by everything that happened to speak right now. Beomgyu gets the message, reading you easily just like he always does, and escorts you to a separate room so you can explain yourself freely, away from the others.

“Beomgyu—” You tear up, throwing your arms around his neck, needing him to comfort you after your fuck up. He wraps one arm around your waist while the other goes to brush away the stray tears that leave your eyes. “It’s okay, my love. Tell me what happened and I’ll fix it.”

He will. He always does. Every time you lash out at someone or do something stupid, he always has your back.

“He hurts her, Beomgyu. He beats her up. We can all see the ugly blue and green bruises on her skin.” Your lips quiver as you recount to him what happened, telling him how she asked you not to go to him and promised you that the beatings will stop, and how you flew into a rage when they didn’t.

“Oh, baby, my kind-hearted queen. You just wanted to help your friend, didn’t you?” He coos softly and you nod. “But you should’ve come to me, still. I would’ve helped her. Don’t I always help?”

“You do.” You admit quietly.

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” He asks and you feel an uncomfortable, queasy feeling budding at the pit of your stomach at that question. You don’t want to answer that. You don’t want to unfurl the seed and let it grow into the hideous monster it can be.

So you go with half of the truth. “I wanted to fix it on my own. No one takes me seriously, Beomgyu.”

He sighs. “And you think threatening to punch people–or in this case actually breaking their nose–is the way to get them to take you seriously?” He reprimands you and you try to draw back, feeling embarrassed, but he doesn’t let you go, using the arm he has around your wasit to hold onto you and pull you tighter against him. “My love, you need to let go of the savage ways he’s taught you.”

You press your lips into a thin line at that, your hackles raised. Taehyun isn’t savage. He taught you to defend yourself for the first time in your life, something that Beomgyu never did. He only shielded you from the abuse when he noticed it or when you told him. He never taught you how to protect yourself.

Beomgyu doesn’t like your silence. He never does. But thankfully, for now, he lets it go, sighing. "Stay here."

But you grab onto his arm before he can go, fretting. "Is Chaeyoung going to be okay?"

"I'll take care of it." He promises you, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss against your forehead before he leaves you to deal with the mess you created.

As you’re left alone to simmer in the aftermath of your most recent fuck up, you realize just how much you’ve strayed from Taehyun’s teachings. You almost were something, almost were your own person, but now you’re even worse than before. Weren’t you the woman who once stood up to the fearsome lord Taehyun and got him to listen to you? Now you’re hiding away as you let Beomgyu take care of problems you created while trying to reclaim that phantom power. You're back to being the stupid helpless little girl who needs Beomgyu to do everything for her. This is just what he wanted, isn’t it? Well, he succeeded.

You’re yanked out of your ruminations when you hear the door open. You look up to ask Beomgyu how it went, only to find Chaeyoung standing there.

“Oh, Chae–” You rush towards her but she puts her hand up to stop you and you halt. “What–”

“Why did you do that? I told you to let it go!” She fumes and you draw back in shock. “I was just trying to help–”

“No, you were trying to make yourself feel better about your own issues with the king.”

You freeze at her words. “What are you talking about?”

She scoffs. “It’s obvious. I don’t know what exactly is going on with you and the king, but god knows everyone has heard the rumors, and whatever unresolved shit you have going on is making you feel helpless and angry and instead of confronting him about it, you lashed out at my own husband to make yourself feel better about your own complacency.”

You shake your head forcefully. “That’s not true. It’s not.” The hot tears sting at your eyes once again, but Chaeyoung doesn’t care for it. No one does except Beomgyu.

“Yes, it is and don’t you deny it. Because if you actually cared about what’s good for me you wouldn’t have put me in danger by confronting Myeong.”

“P-put you in danger?” What is she talking about?

“Yes. Do you think what you did will make him hurt me any less? It will only make him more angry!”

“You’re staying with him?” You ask incredulously and her answering laugh is haughty and bitter. "You're staying with Beomgyu?"

You clamp up. "What other option do I have? You think I can just separate from my husband and not be completely ostracized from all my friends and family? I don’t have a king who would kill his own wife and buy my annulment so he can marry me."

"That is cruel, Chae." You croak. How could she say this to you? She might not know the full story of what happened between you and Beomgyu, but just like she said, everyone has heard the rumors, and her being one of the ladies in waiting, she is sure to know more than anyone else about what you’ve been through at his hands.

She takes in a deep breath to try to calm herself down, and you can see how underneath her anger, there is tremendous fear. “I’m sorry but you need to hear it. I didn't ask you to intervene. Worry about your own problems from now on."

She’s right–the seed unfurls, the monster grows. The only reason you got so enraged and out of control is because what she said reminded you of what Beomgyu has always told you–that you’re the reason for your own suffering, that if you had just been good, that if you didn’t try to escape, that if you let him do what he wants to you, he wouldn’t have hurt you like he did. When she blamed herself for what happened, it felt like she was blaming you too.

"I'm sorry. You're right. It was about me. I guess I just saw my situation in yours and couldn't control myself. It was selfish of me. I just feel so helpless and I wanted to do something for once."

"You are doing something.” She insists, stepping closer to you for the first time since she came into the room. “You’re using him to make things better. It's the best anyone can do in your position. You know the peasants are talking shit about you and yet you’re still helping them and he's letting you. You may not be carrying out those good deeds directly but you're accomplishing more than you ever could have with Lord Taehyun. The king will do anything to please you. You just have to ask."

You contemplate her words in silence. You suppose she’s right about that too. You may not be doing anything directly. People may look down on you and belittle you. But through Beomgyu, you can accomplish so much and he would be more than happy to let you. Maybe you should just get out of your state of self-pity and acknowledge that you’re more lucky–despite it all–than most of the other ladies here.

"But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies by your reckless actions. If you keep this up, you'll be damning him." She continues, and that more than anything, gets your attention.

You hadn’t thought about it that way before, too caught up in your own feelings to know any better. Beomgyu never said a word about it to you either. You suppose he’s just so intent on proving to you that he has your back and will not let the others treat you in a way you don’t like anymore, that he’s letting you ruin his court relations.

"I don't want you to remove my husband from the palace. That would just make things worse for me. So could you please smooth things over with the king?" She asks you, and you give her a small nod. “Thank you.”

You still feel a hint of satisfaction when Beomgyu drags Lord Myeong into the room, the bigger man looking denigrated and subjugated as he apologizes to you and his wife. You merely give him a nod while Chaeyoung graciously announces that she forgives him.

"Get your things ready. You leave at first light." Beomgyu announces when he’s done, and Chaeyouung shoots you a panicked look.

“Actually, I would like him to stay” You interrupt, shocking both men. You bow your head and continue, "If my king will permit, of course."

“But the way he treated you–” Beomgyu balks, unable to stomach the offense to his wife.

“I provoked him.” You bite down on your tongue as you parrot the incriminatory words. “Neither of us behaved particularly civilly.”

“But, baby–” Beomgyu moves close to you, whispering quietly. You hold his right hand between your two smaller ones, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, my love. Give him one more chance. For me.”

He still looks uncomfortable with letting it pass, but you turn to face Lord Myeong, scowling at him in warning. "If he will give you his word not to hurt Chae again."

Beomgyu turns to him and the man nods tightly. "I give you my word, my king." He proclaims, then bows to you. “My queen.”

It’s hard to keep in your scoff, and you can’t look at the coward much longer. Luckily, you don’t have to as Beomgyu waves his hand, dismissing them both, along with the guards, leaving only you and him in the room.

“I don’t like this, darling. He almost laid his hands on you.” Beomgyu recounts angrily, taking you in his arms. “He almost hurt you.”

“I hurt him first. I started it.” You repeat uneasily, and it’s almost funny how Beomgyu finds issue with the sentiment when it doesn’t relate to him.

“You can do whatever you want. You’re his queen.” Beomgyu argues, “If you want to, I can bring him back here and you can use that dagger of yours to brighten up his face a little bit.”

His suggestion, entirely too serious, sends a shiver down your spine.

The king will do anything to please you. But you need to be careful because you’re costing him too many allies.

You shake your head. “No. I need to start acting like a lady again.” You look away, your lower lip wobbling and cheeks flaming, but Beomgyu turns your head to face him once again. “You’ll always be a lady. No one can ever change that.” He presses a kiss against each of your tear-stained cheeks, before continuing, "But I must admit that there are better ways to get people to listen to you than punching them in the face. No matter how endlessly funny I find it when you do that."

You can’t help but smile a little at his joke, allowing yourself to really look at him, and you see nothing but adoration shining back at you. Beomgyu is in love with you. He'd do anything for you. So why are you standing here worrying about anyone else?

“You’re so pretty.” He whispers, kissing you slowly, his soft lips molding against your own as your breaths mingle and your tongues meet. You can never get tired of kissing Beomgyu, each kiss containing a multitude of emotions that never wane–love, lust, need, ecstasy, relief… He kisses you like it’s the first and last time he ever will. Even this slow kiss is so heavy with feeling, it takes your breath away.

“Am I?” You ask once you break the kiss, mouthing along his jawline.

“Yeah. So perfect.” His breath hitches as you move down his neck. “Oh, love, if you keep going like that I’m going to–Oh…”

You slip your hand under his pants, palming him as you suck on his sensitive neck. “Going to what, puppy?”

“Going to lose control.” He finishes, and you chuckle cockily. “As if you ever had any control when it came to me.”

You take your hand out of his pants, hushing his protesting whine, and walk him backwards until you reach a chair and push him on it, getting down on your knees between his legs.

“Darling, no, don’t sit on the floor. Want you comfortable–”

“Hush, Beomgyu. Be a good pup and let me play with you however I want.” You chastise, shooting down his overly-protective tendencies as you take him out of his pants and jerk him into hardness.

“Yes, baby.” He groans, throwing his head back against the chair as he hungrily watches you pumping his cock from under his heavy lashes. He’s too damn easy. So what if everyone thinks you’re his whore? You have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything you tell him to. He adores you. He’d spend his days and nights worshiping at your feet if you let him. "Love it when you use me."

"Yeah?" You shiver, soaking up his need and adulation that hit you like the buzz of a strong liquor. You really can’t live without him. You live off his love. He wants to give you everything–himself, a family, even the whole kingdom. No one else matters to him and no one else should matter to you.

You push yourself up to loom over him and cup his chin with your hand. "Open your mouth."

He does, sticking his tongue out, ready for you to spit in his mouth. His eyes flutter when you do and you feel his cock jerk in your other hand.

"Filthy." You sneer, but you can’t hide the thrill that goes through you at that, neither do you even try. He deserves to see your own need. "And that bastard dares to say you can discipline me."

Beomgyu quickly pulls his tongue inside his mouth and grinds his teeth together as his hazy eyes clear up a little bit. "He said that? I'll kill him."

"No. He doesn't matter." You brush it off, pushing him back down. None of them matter. Only Beomgyu. "As long as you're mine."

"Always."

You push his shirt up his body, bunching it up under his chin as your free hand feels his tummy up to his pert nipples–his soft tummy, so different from the hard planes of Taehyun’s abdomen now that Beomgyu allowed it to go back to its natural state. You don’t know how he got it into his head that you wanted him to resemble Taehyun when all you’ve ever wanted was everything he was.

Beomgyu’s back arches when you flick one of his nipples lightly, his cock getting pushed further into your fist as he mewls.

“So sensitive.” You purr, nudging his poor nipple again and again. “So desperate. You fuck me every day and night and yet you’re still so needy. Is it never enough for you?”

“Never.” He vows breathlessly. “How can I ever get my fill when you’re the most wonderful creature the gods have ever created?”

The words come to him so easily, pouring forth like a sweet balm to soothe any semblance of worry in you before it has the chance to flare up. This is what you needed. This is what love is. Yes, it hurts sometimes, but god when it’s good, nothing and no one else compares.

"More…” Beomgyu pleads, hips nudging upwards ever so lightly. “Just a little bit more. Please."

“Of course, whatever my baby wants.” You coo sweetly, too sweetly, increasing your pace on his cock a little bit. Just a little bit though, messing with him until he groans out in frustration. “Baby, please!”

"What? I thought you said just a little bit." You cock your head to the side in mock confusion but the playful giggle you can’t hold back at his pout gives you away.

“You’re always so mean.”

“Oh, puppy.” You finally take pity on him, leaning upwards to press a kiss to his lips as you quicken your pace, much faster this time, and his mouth falls open as moans stream out of it.

"You have such a pretty cock, puppy, so big and thick. It feels so good when you fuck me." You tease him, knowing it will just drive him more insane. And it does just that, the imagery getting to his dumb head. "Yeah? Want to fuck you so bad."

"Of course you do.” You pout sympathetically, “You're ready to fuck if I even just glance your way, aren't you?"

"Yeah. All ready for you, always." He nods, hips thrusting up to fuck your fist.

“Did I say you could do that?” You hiss and he quickly stills, whimpering at your harsh tone like a scolded dog.

You pause for a moment to take your lover in, sprawled on the chair with his dick out and his shirt pushed up to his neck, his hands fisted into the cushion below him so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch you. He looks delectable and he’s all yours to enjoy. "You can't control yourself, can you? Maybe I need to be put on a leash or you'll be humping my leg every chance you get."

He moans at the lewd idea and surges forward to kiss you. You allow him to do it, if only so you can rile him up more, before you grab him by the neck and push him back. "You like that, don’t you, puppy? Should I make you a gold collar and put my name on it too? Show your court who rules their king?"

"Yes. You own me. You own everything." He babbles heatedly, "Whatever my queen wants, she gets. I'm just your obedient dog."

"Fuck, yes you are.” You bite down on your lip harshly, your thighs rubbing together in need at his pathetic display. “My vicious, feral dog. Come on, hump my hand."

"Thank you." He mewls, thrusting his hips up to fuck your hand once more. He is so lost in that measly amount of pleasure, taking anything he can from you, that an even more wicked idea pops into your mind.

“You really want to cum, huh?” You drawl cryptically, making Beomgyu tilt his head, giving you a confused look even as he continues to fuck your fist. But you don’t make him wonder for long. "Let's see if you can cum on command. I'm going to count down from ten and I want you to cum on one, pup."

"Baby–" He tries to protest but you’re already going through with it.

"Ten." You start, making his eyes wide, and suddenly his thrusts turn frantic.

“Good boy.” You purr, twisting your fist around his cock as a little treat for his obedience. “Nine.”

“You’re going to kill me.” He croaks and you huff out a little laugh. If only you could. Your grip gets a little tighter around him, unintentionally helping him out. “Eight.”

As you keep counting down, he gets more and more breathless.

"Please, please." He cries out in desperation. “It’s not enough.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?” You purposefully twist his words, delighting in sick pleasure as he gasps and shakes his head. “No, no, you’re more than enough!”

“Then stop complaining and be good. Five.”

His heartbroken wail goes straight to your pussy and you wonder if you’re the one who is going to cum on one. He just looks so delicious, sprawled there whimpering and crying as he strives to obey your almost impossible command.

“Four.”

“Baby… my queen…”

“Three.”

“Fuck–nghhh–”

“Two.”

“I can’t. I can’t!” He freaks out, his eyes blown wide as he stares between you and his pistoning cock.

"One." You take your hand away and he wails. You’re disappointed for a second–you really thought he could do this–but then you see his body go rigid before it convulses, cum spurting out of his red cock as he sobs.

You gasp out in delight and reach out to run your hands over his feverish skin, calming him down. "Good boy." You praise, leaning up to kiss his tear-shocked face. “I’m so proud of you baby. You did it.”

Beomgyu chases your lips, catching your lips with his own as he whines into your mouth. “So mean.”

“Why? You got to cum.” You ask him in confusion, "Did that not feel good?"

He shakes his head and sniffles. "No. It was horrible."

"Oh, you poor pup." You take his cock in your hand and stroke it languidly, unsure if he can take it. He seems to like it though and so you ask, "Do you want more?"

"Yes.” He nods empathetically, “Yes please."

"Well, since you were such a good boy." You quicken your pace, his cum making a mess of him as you use it to stroke him.

"Such a messy pup." You tsk, leaning forward to lick it. You don’t do a good job, a thick trail of saliva and cum linking your tongue and the head of his cock. But you weren’t trying to clean him up. You just wanted to tease him more, knowing how messy he likes it.

"Ah please! Suck my cock."

You grin, once again getting just what you wanted. “I have a better idea.” You tell him, spitting on his cock and spreading it along his length while your other hand pushes the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him.

“What?” He stutters, watching wide-eyed as you place his cock between your breasts and push them snuggly around it. “Come on, puppy. I know you’ve been dreaming of this.”

"I love you." He effuses, making you laugh as his hips thrust up wildly under you to push his cock between your breasts.

This should be humiliating. You’re on the floor, knees sore and tits out as you let him fuck them just so he can add even more to the cum and spit already covering them. But how can you feel anything but powerful when this is the king himself you have being so pathetic for you? When the one thing shining brighter than lust in his eyes is his love for you?

“Are you okay, puppy?” You ask him, noting how he’s struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back and the way he’s panting like a dog, sweat glistening on his skin from the struggle. "Going dumb from fucking my tits?"

"So pretty…" He whines, his thrusts growing sloppier and more erratic. "Going to cum… please let me cum."

“Go ahead, baby. You’ve been good.” Your praise, more than anything, pushes him over the edge, and he cums all over your breasts, his seed decorating your chest in beads more beautiful than any pearls.

“That’s it. Let it all out, darling.” You coax the last bit of his cum out of his cock, rubbing the head of it against your nipples in a way that has you shaking in need. God, you need him inside you. You feel so empty.

Sensing your need, or perhaps seeing it on your face, Beomgyu grabs your arms and pulls you to your feet, planting you onto his lap as he buries his face in your chest, licking his cum right off your tits and pebbled nipples.

You can’t take it sitting still so you start rubbing yourself against his thigh, a fire lighting up inside you as he tickles your nipples with his tongue and sucks on them. You’re so wound up that it doesn’t take long for that fire to become an inferno, your legs clamping around his thigh as you cum, pulling his head back harshly by his long hair to give him an open-mouthed kiss.

"Please… fuck.” He whimpers, moving your ass up so you’re sitting on his cock that is now hard once again. “Baby, please take my cock, use me."

But you shake your head, sitting up and putting him back in his pants while he whines and protests. You press a firm kiss to his lips, shutting him up. "You have things to do. We can’t stay here all day. Go do your duties like a good king and maybe I'll let you cum inside me tonight."

“Yes, baby.” He shivers, the fucked out look still apparent on his face as he gets up, and the thought that everyone is going to see him like this and know you’re the one who did this to him has you swelling with pride.

___________________________________

You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. You knew both men were out to kill each other. You knew Beomgyu offered to pardon whoever defected from Taehyun’s men and compensate them handsomely for it. You knew more and more people were turning their backs on Taehyun. You knew he was losing, and yet this somehow still comes as a shock to you.

Kai has been captured, betrayed by Taehyun’s own men and brought to the palace to be used however Beomgyu sees fit. As it so happens, what Beomgyu sees fit is using Kai's life to bargain for Taehyun’s own life. He’s asking Taehyun to give himself up in order to save his little brother.

Suddenly, everything becomes real.

“Sweetling, calm down.” Wonyoung’s musical voice trills out, halting your anxious pacing.

“Calm down? How can you be so calm?” You shrill, “Aren’t you scared for him?”

“Of course, I am but I have to stand behind my brother.” Her composure ticks you off.

“He’s going to kill Kai!” You exclaim. How can Wonyoung act so coolly about this? Doesn't she have feelings for Kai?

She sighs wearily. Despite her being a few years younger than you are, in moments like these, she feels much more mature and aged in comparison to you, like a wizened old spinster who has seen everything there is to see and knows better than you silly little you. “Not if Taehyun gives himself up.”

No. He can't do that. You shake your head in denial. “He can’t. He won’t. If he gives himself up, then the war is lost. He’s the only thing keeping it going right now. His men will put their swords down if he’s captured.”

“Whether he gives himself up now or keeps fighting, the war is already lost. It’s better to surrender now before he’s betrayed by his own men too.”

You grimace at her prediction. God no, that can’t happen. It would simply kill him. He has worked so hard for his city, sacrificed his childhood in order to become a strong, competent leader to his people. He suffered so much hate and malicious rumors and yet he never bowed under the pressure. So for him to go out this way, given up by his own men… it would kill his already broken spirit.

“He’s going to take the fall for everyone. He has no choice but to give himself up so Kai can live and his city can be spared from slaughter.” She tells you, and in your delirious state you imagine you can hear a hint of sorrow in her gentle voice. You shake your head once again, childishly refusing to acknowledge the gruesome truth. She speaks again, even more gently, "Come on, sweetling, did you really think this was going to end any other way?"

“I don’t know." You croak, Beomgyu's words clanging around inside your skull.

I'll let you see his severed head when I bring it home to you.

She doesn’t say anything else, knowing there was no use. She just holds you and lets you cry. You already know she’s telling the truth. You just refuse to believe it. You refuse to believe it’s ending this way–just like Beomgyu wanted. Always like Beomgyu wanted.

_________________________________

Once again it’s Wonyoung who accompanies you to visit Beomgyu’s newest prisoner. She could get in a lot of trouble for this and yet she does it anyway. You don’t know why. She doesn’t even go with you into the room Kai is being held in, weakly admitting that she can’t see him in that state. But she asks you to make sure he’s comfortable. She had requested from Beomgyu that he be held some place befitting of his status, but since she has never gathered the courage to visit him herself, she couldn’t be sure if Beomgyu had kept that promise or not.

The guards standing outside Kai’s makeshift cell hesitate to let you in, telling you that you need permission from the king first, but Wonyoung wouldn’t have any of that.

“This is your queen you’re speaking to. If the king finds out that you’ve refused an order from her, you’d be thrown into one of the cells, and it won’t be as nice as this one, I can promise you that.” She threatens the guard, who exchanges a look with the men flanking you. Your head knight gives him a small nod. “Listen to your queen.”

The man takes in a weary breath and shakily raises his hand to unlock the door, the keys clanging together from the way his hand trembles. When he pushes open the heavy door, Wonyoung turns away, not bearing to even glance at her captured lover.

“Stay here.” You quickly order your guards before you step inside. They hesitate, but before they can think it through, you shut the door in their face. Sure, they can open it again, but you’re certain Wonyoung will prevent them from doing so.

Once you’re inside though–your back facing Kai after you’ve shut the door–you hesitate, suddenly realizing that you don’t even know why you’re here. You haven’t prepared anything to say. You’re not sure you even have anything to say.

“Took you long enough.” Kai's voice hits your back. It’s so different from how you remember it–so tired and weak. You quickly turn around, seeing him for the first time in so long, and your heart hammers at how different he looks.

Gone are the soft, boyish features–his round cheeks replaced by sharp bones, his eyes sinking in their sockets, his usually smiling lips pressed into a sardonic smirk. He looks exhausted. While Beomgyu has gotten softer and more radiant since you came back, Kai’s life force seems to have been stripped away from his body.

This is what war does to those caught on the wrong side of it. This is how you know Beomgyu couldn’t have lost. The boy in front of you looks ten years older. He looks like he has seen the worst that a human can see, while Beomgyu has been thriving more and more each day. There was never any hope for Taehyun.

Oh god, if this is what Kai looks like, then what about Taehyun?

“Is… h-how is he?” You ask tentatively, and Kai lets out a little laugh. “Why don’t you ask him yourself. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

You wince and wring your hands together anxiously. “How can I help him? There has to be a way to save him.”

Kai scowls, getting up and walking towards you. Your heart leaps in your chest for a moment, thinking he’s going to attack you before his shackles stop him from reaching you. “There is no way. He’s been doomed since the second he laid eyes on you. You should’ve left him alone. If you had just done that, he would’ve been safe.”

“I’m sorry.” You weep, “I didn’t know it would end this way. If there was something I could do–”

“Go back to him. Die by his side, do something right in your life.” Kai compels you and you scoff at his change in tune. “Didn’t you tell me to stay away from him?”

“I thought that would stop your lunatic but it didn’t. It just broke Taehyun’s heart. He doesn’t love easily and I ripped the one person he loved from him.” He confesses sadly, but you shake your head in denial. “Taehyun doesn’t love me. He’s only doing this because he has a compulsive need to do the right thing even if it ends in disaster.”

“That may be true but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Then you saw wrong.” You shake your head again. Taehyun doesn’t love you. You don’t know what Kai thinks he saw but it wasn’t love. Beomgyu looks at you with love. You’ve never seen that look in Taehyun’s eyes. "And even if that was true, Beomgyu would never let me go. I can’t escape him.”

“You can kill your monster.” He cuts you off, “You can rid the world of his evil.”

Just the thought of it makes your heart clench painfully. You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I–I can’t do that… I’m carrying his baby.”

Kai scoffs. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

Humiliation burns deep inside you at his disgusted expression. "You told me to leave!" You scream. What does he want from you?

"But I didn't tell you to fuck him.” He denounces, and in that moment you can’t even recognize the sweet boy you met a year ago anymore. “I thought you didn't want to be known as his whore."

"I am not his whore.” You insist, distraught. You shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t even try to leave Beomgyu’s side anymore. Only he is safe. “I am his wife and I am carrying his rightful heir."

"And was this rightful heir conceived before or after the illegitimate marriage."

You hold in your tears. "Fine. I am rotten, just like him. I admit it. Are you happy now?"

"You should’ve realized it sooner. Your pity party is killing my brother." He spits out in disgust. “You never loved my brother. It was always Beomgyu you wanted. You just used my brother to get what you want. Well, congratulations on the happily ever after you’ll have once Taehyun is dead.”

________________________________

Your heart almost stops when you step out of the room and come face to face with Beomgyu. He looks enraged, but you don’t even have the energy to fight with him right now. And when you collapse into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, he too puts whatever he had to say to rest for now, carrying you in his arms and muttering to Wonyoung that he’ll deal with her later as he takes you away.

It’s funny how you seek comfort in him from the very thing he caused and how you actually feel soothed by him. This is why your protests never get through to him. How can they when he always manages to get you back into his arms?

You don’t see where he is taking you as you cling onto his body and hide your face in his neck. You only realize that he’s taken you back to your chambers when your back hits the mattress and the comforting and familiar smell of the room fills your nose and allows you to calm down enough to speak.

“I don’t want you to kill Taehyun.” You claw at his back desperately, your eyes searching his own for any sign of mercy. “Please.”

He looks at you with anger in his eyes, for daring to beg for Taehyun’s life, but you’re surprised to also see pity there, and that pity tells you that there is no point to your begging. “You know I have to do it. I have to set us free. I have to protect our baby.”

But you still plead your useless case–for if you really wanted to save Taehyun. You know what you must do. “So exile him. Banish him from the kingdom. Just don’t kill him.”

He shakes his head, much more patient than you ever expected from him. Why was he being so gentle with you when usually any allusion to Taehyun would have him fuming with rage. Is it because he knows he has already won?

“He will always be a threat to our family for as long as he lives. You know that.” He reminds you, “It’s time to end it. Aren’t you tired of this?”

You are, so very tired. So tired you can’t reciprocate the kiss Beomgyu initiates, prompting him to pull back to look you in the eyes. And that’s when you realize why he’s being so sweet. He’s afraid he’s going to lose you again. He’s afraid that Taehyun’s death will make you withdraw into yourself again. He’s been keeping you as far away from the war as he possibly could so you wouldn’t fully fathom the gravity of it all, but now that it’s ending, there is no escape from the heavy price.

When it comes down to it, is it going to be him or Taehyun you’re going to protect?

“I love you.” He tells you urgently and waits for you to say it back, his eyes swimming with fear and uncertainty, his soul just about to drown in them. His soul, your other half, how could you possibly let it sink?

“I love you too.” You finally say it, and his sigh of relief is like a drowned man’s first gasp for breath after being revived, quickly followed by more and more.

“I love you. I love you.” He sobs, smothering you with kisses that you swallow down eagerly.

He makes love to you, needy and scared, clinging onto you tight enough to leave room for nothing but his whispered confessions and pleas for yours.

"Say you love me." He begs urgently, craving it more than his building release.

"I love you." You blabber, your own ears not able to distinguish your words from the pathetic sobs as his hips smack against yours feverishly, but he hears them.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again. Please."

"I love you."

"Only me."

"Only you."

Beomgyu doesn’t let you breathe in anything that isn’t him. He surrounds you everywhere–his heat, his scent, his heartbeat… it all blends together and flows into you, uniting your being with his so tightly you don’t know where you end and he begins.

_____________________________________

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” You whisper to the man behind you in an effort to not wake up the sleeping baby laying in his crib in front of you–your baby, your little prince.

“Is he?”

That voice.

You immediately whip around, fear gripping your heart as you come face to face with the man you once called your husband.

“Taehyun!” You stammer, reaching your arms out to try to protect your baby from him but when you hazard a glance back, he’s not there.

“Where is he? You ask, panicked.

“I could’ve given you a child. That baby should’ve been mine.”

Tears spring to your eyes at his words. “Please, give him back.”

But he ignores your plea, advancing on you. You try to move away but your legs don’t obey you. They keep you rooted to the spot as he comes closer and cradles your face in his hand. “Why did you leave me?”

"I wanted to protect you." You attempt to answer, but your uncertainty is evident even to him.

"Did you?" You look away guiltily but he turns your head back towards him. "Did you also give him a child to protect me? Are you going to let him kill me to protect me?"

"I tried to stop him but I failed. You saw what happened. I always mess up. I don't know what to do, Taehyun." You cry, but Taehyun isn’t Beomgyu, and he isn’t going to coddle you no matter how much you cry and whimper. "That's not an excuse."

“I know, I–” He kisses you, shutting up your worthless justifications. Once again you can’t move. You have to stand there and let him devour your lips, his kisses harsh and angry.

So you focus on gathering all the strength in your body, an effort so immense just to take a step back and beg, "Stop."

He hears you and he pulls away, but only enough to talk, his lips brushing against yours as he does. "Why?”

“I’m married to Beomgyu.”

That makes him laugh darkly. “That didn’t stop you before. You cheated on me. What does it matter if you cheat on him too? That's what you do."

You try to shake your head but he has your hair all fisted in his hand. “Don’t deny it. You want to be fucked, I know. Maybe if I had fucked you enough before, you wouldn’t have ran after his dick.”

He rips your dress from your body, tearing it away the same way he did when you wore that dress Wonyoung got you, and with the same disdain. “I hate these fucking dresses.” He growls, “But you love them, don’t you? It’s another reason why you crawled back to him. I tried to give them to you, lost my fucking eye over it, but you couldn’t even give me some more time.”

“That’s not why I left.” You deny, but that just makes him angrier.

“Don’t lie to me. You know what I do to liars.” He hisses, grabbing your chin and digging his fingers into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open for him to kiss. He coaxes your tongue out, sucking on it before grazing it with his sharp teeth, making you shiver with both fear and lust.

Are you lying? If you aren’t then why are you letting Beomgyu kill Taehyun? Why haven’t you killed him when you had the chance?

Because you love him. Because you can’t live without him. Because he’s the father of your child. Because even though he is wicked, you could do so much good together, help so many people, live the rest of your life trying to atone for the horrible sins you've committed.

But will you ever be forgiven?

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyun asks, “Do you believe him when he tells you that everything will be okay when I'm gone, angel? Do you think you'll forget me when I die? You think he’ll ever forget that I had you when he can taste me on your lips? Even if he kills me, he’ll always know that you let me shove my cock inside your pretty mouth and your tight cunt.”

“Taehyun!” You gasp. This was so unlike him–the possessiveness, the jealousy, the emotion.

“What? You like it when I talk to you like this? Treat you like the whore you are?” He grabs the underside of your thighs and lifts you up, walking you towards the bed before throwing you on it and prowling up to cover you with his body. He looms over you. "And you, you think it won’t eat you up alive everyday knowing what you did to me?"

"Then kill me." You beg him and he laughs. Clearly you aren’t strong enough to hurt Beomgyu or yourself, but he is. He can end you. He can end this tortured existence. "No, you don't deserve the mercy of death. You deserve to live by that monster for the rest of your miserable life."

“Taehyun–ah!” You squeak as he rips your legs open.

“Look how wet you are. You really like this, don’t you?”

You bite your lip, trying to gather up your own emotions like precious gold, scared to show them to him lest he steal them away.

He scoffs at your silence. “Come on, angel, speak up. I can’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t talk. So speak up.” He mocks, his fingers gliding up and down your spread pussy, his eyes falling to your hole as it flutters around nothing.

His fingers tease around your entrance as his gaze flicks back up to you, harsh and angry, before he slams his fingers inside you, making your mouth fall open in a sharp cry. “Speak up, bitch.”

“I’m sorry.” You weep, not knowing what else to say as his fingers ram into you, much too fast and hard. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”

“Are you? Are you really?” He tilts his head to the side jeeringly, but you nod earnestly. “I am. I am.”

“If all that’s going to come out of that pretty mouth is lies then maybe you shouldn’t talk.”

“W-what–hmph!” He stuffs his fingers that were just in your pussy into your mouth, choking you on your own taste.

"You never loved me. You used me.” He spits out bitterly, and you feel his cock prodding at your entrance before it breaches your hole in one stroke. “You killed me."

Suddenly, Taehyun looks different, his clean, white skin covered in nasty cuts and bruises, a hideous gash extending across his neck, dripping warm blood onto your naked body.

Overcome with the urge to throw up at the sickening sight, you close your eyes tightly, hoping to dispel the gruesome image, but he screams at you to look at him, not letting you escape what you did.

“Look at me. Look at me! Look what you did.”

You cry as you shake your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. Or maybe it was blood.

"Don't cry." He screams at you as he continues to fuck you, uncaring about the pain he’s causing you or the blood that drains from his body. "You fucking killed me, you bitch."

You shake your head harder, unable to speak with the fingers buried deep in your mouth, the tips of them hitting the back of your throat and making you choke on something that didn’t taste like you anymore. No, it tasted metallic and nauseating.

"Don’t cry." A voice shouts in your ear, much more vivid and clear this time. It feels more real than everything else and the shock of it allows you to finally, finally, spit the fingers out, sputtering out repeated No’s as your whole body spasms with cold dread.

“Please, stop crying.” It tells you again, surprisingly gentle and worried. “Calm down, baby. I’m here. Please, princess!”

Princess?

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of this void of agony and despair you’ve been plunged into. Blinking away your tears, the ghastly visage of your past lover slowly loses its crimson discoloration as it morphs into the terrified face of your husband, tears of his own streaking down his flushed cheeks as he gazes at you in horror.

“Beomgyu?” You croak, voice scratchy and strained. “W-what’s happening?”

“You were having a nightmare, baby.” He explains, sniffling.

“Why are you crying?” You ask, cupping his cheek and weakly wiping his sparkling tears away.

“You were making all those noises, like you were being choked, and I–I was so worried.” He whimpers, leaning into your touch. “It’s so stupid. You’re the one who was having the nightmare, but I was so scared because I couldn’t get you to wake up. I couldn’t reach you in there.” He breaks out into a loud sob at the last part, lips trembling as he relives the terror.

“I was scared too.” You whisper, pulling him tightly against you as if the physical proximity would allow him to protect your soul from further attack.

Is this what your life is going to be like from now on? Plagued by nightmares of what you and your lover did? Getting trapped in a ghoulish dreamland where Beomgyu can’t reach you to comfort you? Is this your divine punishment?

______________________________

Taehyun is here. He is here to give himself up to appease Beomgyu’s wrath and save everyone else. He’s here to die so you can get your happily ever after.

And here Beomgyu is, getting dressed in his ceremonial armor to personally carry out the execution of the man whose only sin was briefly making you his.

You get dressed too, your attire blood-red just like Beomgyu’s so you wouldn’t be able to see any of the blood that might splatter in the aftermath of today’s abomination.

"Don't make it hurt.” You plead your lover, and Beomgyu snaps his head to look at you with equal parts fury and imploration–half a mad king and half a child begging for something he wants but knows he shouldn’t have. "Let me take my vengeance on him."

"You're decimated his army, brought him to the ground, and now you’re going to take his life. What more do you need?” You press your hands against the gold of his breastplate, seeking the heartbeat you know is under there. “Just give him a quick death. Get it over with. Please, for me."

He looks into the distance, the request not sitting well with him, but he didn’t shoot you down immediately which tells you that he’s at least considering it.

“Fine.” He says at long last and your knees buckle in relief under you as if you had managed to save Taehyun. “You don’t have to come, you know?”

“I thought you said you would kill him in front of my eyes.” You remind him of his own words and he gives you a weary look. “I was mad when I said that. I never want to intentionally hurt you.”

You laugh wistfully at his claim. What he means is that he never wants to hurt you in a way that wouldn't benefit him, and he knows that seeing him personally kill Taehyun might be too much even for you.

This has always been Beomgyu’s method–keep you away from the battlefield so you’d forget all about his monstrous actions. But you owe this to Taehyun. If you’re the reason he’s losing his life then the least you could do is look him in the eye during his final moments and face all the hate he has for you.

“I have to come.”

“My queen–”

“I chose you. You owe me this.” You snap at him and he recoils, shoulders slumping. He’s so anxious about ending this that he doesn’t have the energy to protest much “Yes, darling.”

________________________

If you thought Kai looked bad, then Taehyun looks like he already has one foot beyond the veil. You’ve never seen him look so small, stripped of his leather and armor, his muscles–though never remarkably big–wasting away from malnourishment and the stress of war, what appears of his skin bruised and discolored, and his hair cut in a blunt style so as not to obstruct the vision in his one good eye.

Dear god, his eyes.

He's not even wearing the black enamel anymore, a hollow socket left in its place surrounded by darkened skin, giving you a glimpse of what he will look like once the crows have picked out the other eye. After all, dead men have no use for sight.

But for now, he sees, looking at you with that singular, stormy eye of his, and you don’t know how you missed it before–perhaps it got diluted in the middle back when both were intact, and then was overshadowed by the black orb he put in-but you see so much emotion there now, intensified enough by the singular outlet for you to finally perceive.

Anger, pride, regret, disappointment, fear… and so much more that you can't begin to untangle, so much that will be silenced forever when his vision goes dark.

His gaunt face had been so startling to behold that you almost missed the necklace wrapped around his neck… a pearl necklace, your necklace!

W-What? Why? Why is he wearing that? What is he trying to do?

You ponder it for a second, eyes jumping around the room in a confused frenzy, before they land on Beomgyu’s sword, and you’re immediately hit with a sickening realization–he’s showing the world who is behind his death. You are. You did this to him.

Suddenly, you see him as you saw him in your dream, wounded and bloody. You see Beomgyu standing over his corpse, triumphant. And it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees.

He doesn't deserve this. It had been so exhausting for you to fight your short battle before you gave in and ran back to your captor, but Taehyun has been fighting all his life. He never gave up, never flinched back no matter the horror he was facing. He even fought for you when you couldn't be bothered to fight for yourself. And yet here you are, preparing to watch him die for the sin of choosing to help you when he should have turned away like all the others.

No act of kindness goes unpunished.

You shake your head, a few bitter tears getting dislodged in the process and burning down your cheeks.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu recounts to the crowd of noble men and women gathered the crimes he has fabricated for Taehyun, his only real crime standing there for all to gawk at.

It has to be done. You think as you watch the proud man being forced to his knees, his head lowered down so his pearled neck could receive the royal sword’s fatal kiss. Still, he attempts to look at you, raising his face up to pin you under his gaze the same way the guards are pinning him to the floor.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu, enraged that Taehyun even dares to look at you, grabs him by the back of the head and shoves his face back down. But once again, Taehyun looks up at you.

It has to be done. You think as Beomgyu angrily unsheathes his sword and doesn't even ask Taehyun for his last words.

It has to be done.

Gods help you for what you're about to do.

It's easy for you to slip past the guards flanking your side. You’ve proven yourself loyal to Beomgyu and so they forsake watching you in favor of watching the deadly dance of their king and the reviled warlord.

You didn't expect to do this, you contemplate as your legs that were so heavy before carry you easily towards Beomgyu, as if walking on air, your arms solidly brandishing the dagger you had been gifted by the man on his knees.

Taehyun is the only one to react to your sudden movement, eyes widening as he gasps.

Or maybe he’s the only one you can see or hear, because suddenly Beomgyu is turning around to face you, startled. It all happens slowly, so painfully slowly. You can see the concern on his face first, followed by shock when he sees the dagger glinting in the sunlight, and then pain erupts across his beautiful face as the dagger plunges itself into his chest.

You let out a pained wail even before he does.

"I'm sorry." You choke out, your fingers grasping the hilt of the dagger in a death-grip as if you could take it back. As if you can undo what you've done. "I'm so sorry."

You hear people running behind you but Beomgyu barks at them. “Don’t touch her!”

They immediately still, clueless as to what to do as everyone else is in this court of madness. As clueless as you are.

Oh, gods, what have you done?

“Hey, it’s okay. Don't cry.” Beomgyu murmurs softly, braving the pain to comfort you. Always comforting you even as your knife is buried in his chest. “I hate seeing you cry."

That just makes you cry harder. You’ve made a terrible mistake. "Beomgyu, I–"

Your eyes widen as you’re cut off by a sharp pain that overwhelms your senses, and you look down to see Beomgyu's sword jutting out from your abdomen. You look up at him in confusion, not grasping what you’re seeing. Beomgyu would never hurt you like this. He would never. "Beomgyu?"

But if the excruciating pain radiating from the sword protruding from your belly isn’t making it clear enough, then the horrified screams of Wonyoung does. "What have you two done?!"

You also hear an anguished shout of your name, followed by a commotion and what sounds like someone being restrained.

But you don’t look at any of them. You only look at the man in front of you–your lover, your soulmate, your killer.

"Shhh. It's going to be okay.” He hushes your pitiful cries. “I'm not going to leave you. Never again."

Of course. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu promised to never let you go, and he’s not going to break that promise even in death.

"I love you." He murmurs, pressing a tight, pained kiss to your lips.

"I love you too." You say helplessly. You deserve it all. You deserve him. You harbored this monster, loved and nourished him, reveled in all the twisted pleasures he gave you, hid between his sharp claws that were sullied by the blood of others. So how can you expect a different end to such a despicable existence?

"I'll find you in our next life." He vows to you, smiling as if it were your wedding day again. "I'll get it right next time. I promise you."

Next time? The thought sends a chill down your spine.

No, please, let this be the end. You love him endlessly and tirelessly. The sun might grow sick of the day sky, the waves might abandon their shores, mothers might forsake their young, but you’d never stop loving Beomgyu.

But you can’t do this again. Please, let your souls intertwine and become a distant star, far away from everyone and everything, together forever or until the lights in the heavens go out. But not this again.

"It looks like you hit my heart. How ironic is that?" Beomgyu lets out a shuddering laugh before he kisses you again sluggishly. "Don't keep me waiting for long. I’ll miss you. I love you."

“Beomgyu, I–”

He slumps forward, falling limply into your arms.

Wonyoung shrieks, running towards you and taking him from your paralyzed grip. “Call the palace physician. Get him here now!”

The whole court springs into action, trying to save their king and queen. But you know it’s no use. He’s already dead. You know he’s dead. You can’t feel his soul anymore, and you know that soon, you will be too.

______________

You’re not dead yet. How could you not be dead yet when half your soul is already rotting away? Why are you still clinging onto this miserable world that has lost all its color and beauty with the departure of your loved one? The gods must truly enjoy your suffering to want to prolong it this much.

When the door creaks open, your dying heart gives a weak thump, still foolishly hoping it would somehow be Beomgyu on the other side, back to tell you that he’s okay after all, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed to be, and that he forgives you for what you had done.

But it wasn’t Beomgyu. No, because you killed him.

It was Taehyun, who now seems to resemble death itself, and for a second you wonder if the gods were playing a particularly cruel joke on you by having your collector take on the form of the man you had betrayed and betrayed the love of your life for.

“Taehyun?” You ask shakily, growing more anxious the longer he hesitates at the door. Startled by your voice, he finally moves, walking towards you with trepidation in his step that is entirely too human. “I’m here.”

He takes your hands in his and you stare down at them, feeling the chasm in your heart pulsating hideously at the touch as if in protest.

"You saved me." He breathes out incredulously, like he can’t believe it. You can’t believe it too.

"You deserve to live." You tell him, matter of fact. Everyone got what they deserved.

"So do you." He proclaims and you smile wistfully. Oh, Taehyun.

"What is going to happen to you now?" You ask him, brushing off his misguided declaration and he frowns, considering whether to push his point or just answer your question.

For now, he answers your question. "I don't know but princess Wonyoung–well, I should say queen Wonyoung now--is allowing me and Kai to return home if we agree to a ceasefire. I don't think she cares about continuing the war anymore. Neither do we."

"Right." With Beomgyu dead and you to follow him, what else is there to fight about?

"It won't be easy dealing with the fallout but–"

"But it's better this way." You finish for him.

"No! How can it be better when I'm losing you?" His voice wavers and you look at him curiously. Is he going to cry for you? After all you’ve done?

"Don't cry over me. I don’t deserve it. I loved him."

"He tricked you. He–"

You squeeze his hands firmly, or as firm as your dwindling strength allows, stopping his empathetic excuses. "I still loved him and you know that. You don’t have to pretend like I’m blameless just because I’m dying. It isn't like you."

"I just…" He trails off, staring down at your joined hands uselessly.

"I still loved him… I loved him and he killed our baby. He didn’t want me to live if he wasn’t going to have me.” You pause, letting out a tired laugh. It was never about protecting your child after all. It was about keeping you. “You know what the sad thing is? I wouldn’t have wanted to live without him either, but he didn’t even give me the choice. He never did.”

Taehyun stays silent and you wonder what is going on inside his head. He must think you’re stupid for expecting anything else from Beomgyu. He must think you deserve it now. He must find you abhorrent for saying you would have killed yourself if Beomgyu hadn’t.

"You should go." You sigh, the breath coming out harder now.

But to your surprise, he shakes his head. “No. I won’t go.” He says, taking out the pearl necklace he was wearing at his failed execution. "I am not going to leave you alone."

He leans forward, trying to wrap the necklace around your neck but you lift your hand up and push it down, shaking your head.

"I won't be alone." You say and he looks at you in confusion. "I'll be with him."

His face changes into the contemptuous expression you've been expecting all this time. "You're choosing him again? I can't even win against his corpse?" He spits out bitterly, taking the necklace back and shoving it in his pocket.

"I killed him for you. What more do you want?” You ask him tiredly. Haven’t you already made the ultimate sacrifice for him? Is even this not enough? Can’t you spend your last moments on alive with the one person who loved you? The person you betrayed for Taehyun? The person who is now cold and stiff on his deathbed, waiting for you to warm him up or grow cold next to him.

He’s so, so cold…

“You know you never even said you loved me once?"

“I did–” He protests but you cut him off. “You’ve never said I love you and meant it.”

He opens his mouth and you hold your breath, the world stilling around you.

Do you want to hear it? Would it make anything better? It would only dig the knife of what could’ve been deeper. What use is it now?

But you do want to hear it. You want to believe that you could’ve had someone else’s love, that you could’ve deserved more than what Beomgyu dictated for you.

But then he shuts his mouth again, furiously wiping away his tears as if it disgusted him to have any evidence of them left.

"Go, Taehyun. I don't want to spend my last few hours on this earth doubting if I am worthy of love or not. At least he loved me. He's the only one who ever did."

And so he leaves–storming away angrily and slamming the door behind him, but he leaves. He always leaves.

Isn’t it time for you to die yet?

In the wake of Taehyun’s furious exit and behind your useless tears, you see Wonyoung enter, a vision of an angel as she floats down towards your deathbed.

"Is there any way I could make you more comfortable?" She asks softly.

"Why are you so nice to me? I killed your brother."

She shakes her head, always so patient despite her grief. "He killed himself when he started all of this."

You don’t get her. How can she be so fine with this when the weight of what you’ve done is killing you faster than the sword they took out of you. "Aren't you angry at me?"

"What use is being angry? Is it going to bring him back?" She asks, finally letting a little edge creep out in her voice, but she quickly reins it back in. "My brother made a lot of mistakes, some he was driven to and some by his own volition, and they all led to where he is right now. It is no use to dwell on it. Why spend your last hours making you answer for sins you've committed together? For sins I was a part of. I killed him as much as you did when I encouraged his unhealthy obsession."

You fall silent for a while, considering her words. She’s right. What use is it dwelling on any of this and leaving him alone? You’re going to die soon so you might as well let go of your guilt. The gods will make you answer for your crimes whether you feel sorry about them or not.

"I want to be with him." You finally say and she nods. “He’d like that.”

__________________

They take you to him, laying you both down on your bed before leaving you alone with only a single candle burning on the bedside table. It’s good. Your souls need the peace.

You look up at your lover’s deathly visage and frown. He used to be so expressive, in happiness, in love, in anger, in madness… never was there such a lively spirit as his, but as you look at him now, you find nothing but emptiness that resounds in your very core. It chills you to the bone as you curl up tighter around him, chasing a warmth that isn’t there anymore.

You don't know what will become of the others now. Will the war really end? Is Wonyoung going to be a good queen? Will Taehyun get remarried? How will Beomgyu be remembered in a hundred years? Will you both be wiped out from the history books?

You hope so. The oblivion of death can’t come soon enough.

Mercifully, you can feel the drug Wonyoung had given you making its way from your faltering heart to your collapsing veins, pulling you into a slumber you know you won’t be waking from.

You smile at the thought, leaning up to kiss the corner of Beomgyu’s lips before whispering one last “I love you.”

And with that, you finally let go.

______________________

A/N: well, it's finally over. make sure to let me know what you thought of the end or i will cry. lol jk but i really really appreciate all the feedback. thank you all for coming on this journey with me. i definitely wouldn't have been able to finish this fic if it weren't for all your support ❤️

and now, click on this link to see the future fics i have in store and vote on your favorite one. the one you pick will be the one i write!

#txt smut #yandere smut #tomorrow x together smut

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