#deserving of its own tag? mayhaps not but only time will tell and to me SHE is a character unto herself... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bright-molina · 3 years

Text

Golden

synopsis: Bobby’s always been there for Reggie. And he’s positive he always will be. All that’s left is to tell him.

request: Boggie confession of feelings mayhaps?

pairing: Bobby Wilson x Reggie Peters

word count: 1331

warnings: brief mentions/allusions to parents fighting

a/n: @jaskiers-sweetkiss The Bog as promised, my love! I may have been driving all day long but I'm finally home and here it is! Yes the title is from the song, no it’s not super relevant plot wise but it fit the vibes so I went with it.

It was a miracle the steering wheel hadn’t cracked under Bobby’s grip yet. Frankly, though, he was surprised he’d even made it to Reggie’s house considering the blinding fury filling his entire body.

He’d known what happened the moment he picked up the phone. The shaky inhale he was met with. The wavering of every word. The quiet, careful voice Reggie had spoken to him in.

“I just - I don’t - I don’t wanna be alone.”

Those were the only words Bobby had needed to hear before he was storming out of his house, tires screeching as he sped through the streets well past midnight.

The roads felt longer than usual and the seconds ticked by much too slowly until finally he slowed down just enough to stop as quietly as he could outside the house.

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, breathing in deeply in an attempt to shove all the anger to the back of his mind. Reggie needed him. At the moment nothing else mattered but that.

Reggie tried his hardest to push away everything surrounding him, focusing only on the noises coming through the open window. The crickets and the soft billowing of the wind and -

He realized with a start that the world was peaceful at night. Peaceful and quiet and calm and he hated it because he was anything but those things. The silence and the stillness outside was too loud and left too much room for the shouting ringing through his head.

And then finally he heard it.

The low rumbling of the old engine he knew belonged to Bobby’s car. It disturbed the otherwise quiet street along with his thoughts and he rushed to climb out the window as quickly as he could.

He hadn’t even taken a few steps before Bobby was in front of him, holding him close for a moment before pulling him away from the house gently but quickly. He stopped beside the car once they were out of sight.

“What happened?” Bobby’s movements were rushed but still gentle as he held Reggie’s face in his hands, examining every inch of him he could see in the dark of the night. He stepped back just far enough to be able to get a full view of him to make sure he was truly okay. “I swear if they -”

“No,” Reggie was quick to shake his head, reaching forward to take Bobby’s hand in his own. The intertwining of their fingers came naturally and it put them both at ease. The anger and the nerves all faded away leaving just the two of them. “It wasn’t like that. They - they were just yelling. A-and it was too loud and I couldn’t - I didn’t want to -”

“Hey, you’re okay now.” The statement came out firm and full of reassurance. “You’re with me now and you’re okay.”

Reggie only nodded, now focusing solely on Bobby. On the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands holding his. The warmth that radiated off his body from where he stood close to him and the way all his thoughts finally eased up a little now that he was with him.

He only spoke when Bobby reached around him to open the door. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want.”

“You didn’t have to do this you know.” Reggie’s voice came out soft and quiet again. There was exhaustion laced through his words but he refused to close his eyes.

And so instead he burrowed himself deeper into the blankets and held on a little tighter to Bobby, who gladly pulled him closer.

It’d been hours since they’d settled themselves in Bobby’s room, perfectly content to talk and smile and laugh with each other for hours. It was easy to get lost in the feeling of tangled limbs and the simplicity that was just holding each other, tethering one another to this moment in time.

“Do what?” Bobby couldn’t quite figure out what he meant. Everything came so easily with Reggie. It always had and he never had second thoughts about any of it.

“Come get me.”

For just a moment a flash of anger returned when he remembered the bits and pieces of arguments he’d overheard. The little information Reggie had told him about his parents and all the feelings he’d admitted plagued him. The insecurities and doubts and wondering if things would ever be okay.

“I’ll always be here for you, Reg.” There was no answer and yet Bobby knew everything. He knew the thoughts currently running rampant in Reggie’s mind and pulled him impossibly closer. “I’m serious. Whatever you need I’m here.”

Reggie sat up at those words and turned to face him. There was an innocent sort of wonder hidden in his features, not too sure why Bobby’s face fell when he asked, “But why?”

“Because I -” There it was again. Love. The word caught in Bobby’s throat, just barely stopping before it spilled out.

The feeling had crossed his mind before only briefly. About his band, most of the time, but especially about Reggie. He’d felt it but had never been able to say it. Nevertheless, it was more intense now than it had been before. More real. He was positive it was the right word and yet he didn’t say it.

It was a big word. One that held the weight of the world on its shoulders. One that Bobby meant with every ounce of his being but one he wasn’t sure if Reggie was ready to hear at that moment.

“You what?” Reggie stared at him in a way that was so simple and sweet and filled with curiosity and knowledge all at the same time.

He knew. His brows were furrowed and his cheeks were flushed and the early morning light shone around him and he knew.

Bobby had never known how to say the word he was feeling but he was certain at that moment that, despite the fact that Reggie seemed to know already, he would figure out how to do it. It was everything he deserved.

He reached forward just as he had hours ago, thumbs brushing softly against Reggie’s cheeks as his gaze stayed locked on him. All the troubles they’d felt were long forgotten. Instead they lived in this moment that was passing between them. In each other’s presence. In the invisible force that seemed to be pushing them closer.

They both felt it. They both reacted to it. Smiles shared with only each other told them everything they were each trying to say. It didn’t have to be said out loud but they did it anyway.

“I -” Bobby’s voice broke the silence. He spoke softly, afraid to ruin the moment happening that surrounded every bit of the world around them. He trailed off again but not in uncertainty. It was simply easy to get lost in the feeling. Easier than he ever thought possible.

“I know,” Reggie nodded, a little awkwardly from the hold he was still in, but his grin widened. And he did know everything. He knew Bobby’s thoughts and the feelings he felt and everything he was trying to say to him.

Love. It was the feeling that echoed through the otherwise silent room.

Reggie heard it again. Silence. He heard the shadows of the night fading away into the early morning. He heard everything coming to life once more and saw the golden light filtering through the window, seemingly focused on illuminating the two of them alone.

Everything was peaceful and calm and still again and this time he found himself liking it.

He liked it more than anything. The silence wasn’t overwhelming anymore. Instead it was this moment he was sharing with Bobby. This admission, this feeling that was enveloping him completely. It was brilliant and warm and something he hoped would last just so they could stay in their little bubble alone, together, for just a bit longer.

“I love you too.”

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Everything: @meangirlsx @theolivekiddo @dream-a-little-bigger-x @fangirlangioma @jaskiers-sweetkiss @babychickanon @goddess-of-night @n0wornever @calamitykaty @hellophantoms @funsizearsonist @crybabyddl @txrii @sunsetcurvej @willex-owns-my-heart @angryknightstatesmantrash @all-in-fangirl @reg-peters @willowsbendtothewind-blog

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#hi i love them #jatp #julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #bobby wilson #bobby jatp #boggie #the bog #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #reggie x bobby #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fic #umm i don't know how else to tag this so we're just gonna go with it

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jenovahh · 5 years

Text

Comm 03 - NSFW - Glitter

Rating: NC-17/Explicit Tags: Female!WoL, Cunnilingus, Penetration

The commissioner has chosen to remain anonymous! Thank you so much for this prompt it was fun to write and challenging!

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Warrior of Light.

Liberator of Doma. Savior of Ala Mhigo. Retriever of Coinpurses.

Warrior of Darkness.

Enough titles to sing your praises to fill an entire book, by this point you were sure.

Have books been written yet? You hadn’t been approached yet for a biography. Mayhap you were on the move too much for anyone to sit you down long enough to talk to you about your life; not that your life is much of a secret.

Any news of your deeds and miracles had reached nearly every part of the continent. At the very least, the only thing missing would be the more trivial escapades or your humble beginnings.

Sometimes you miss those days. The days of stepping out and actually exploring. Choosing to help the occasional stranger but still going your own way, seeing the world at your own pace. Some might think not knowing where your next meal would come from daunting, but you had never worried. You could fish. You could hunt.

You could be yourself. For yourself.

It pained you sometimes, to think of the life you could have lived. If you hadn’t met wonderful people like Y’shtola or Thancred...if you hadn’t encountered Lyse in the forest. Or...Papalymo.

Grimacing, you heave out a sigh, trudging along behind the Scions through the Rat’tika Greatwood, its muggy swamps and blistering heat doing nothing to improve your mood.

After nearly being accosted by the Night’s Blessed, fending off a potential Vauthry invasion, and held at knife point by small army of Viis, you believe you’ve earned a well deserved break, especially knowing that exploring the looming temple nearby is on tomorrow’s list of events.

You are provided with a rather cozy room, given to you by the Viis in exchange for their seal. They are all quite lovely and so is their home, your eyes drifting to the beautiful women of the village as they lead you to your room that you’ll be staying in for the night.

To your surprise there is a plush feather bed resting against the far wall, instead of a hammock like you were expecting giving what all you had seen of the village. A small basin with a mirror rests in a corner of the room as well as a desk, but the room is otherwise for the most part barren.

None of the luxuries or comforts offered to you back at your room in the Crystarium, and you are just now aware of how concerned the Exarch is for your overall well being and happiness.

You returned to your room after a hearty dinner provided by the ever hospitable Viis, waving to the Scions as you announced you would be retiring to your room for the night, practically falling onto the bed for some well earned rest.

You had already bathed in their bathhouse, feeling a bit better considering you had dove into the murky waters of the nearby lake filled with Hydaelyn knows what. It wasn’t all bad, being able to dive below and explore the ruins, feeling that sense of discovery and adventure you had longed for when you were a child.

You couldn’t hate the job entirely, even if the stress was monumental. There was absolutely no way you would be able to explore an entirely different world if you had kept to your path as a young adventurer, if you had never joined the Scions.

There might not even be a world at all.

“Really hero, must you think so loudly?”

You’re on your feet before you can blink, dagger in hand as you immediately turn towards the voice. Vision focusing, you meet stark, gold eyes, twinkling in obvious amusement in what must be considered your antics.

“My, you sundered souls are so easily excitable. Though I suppose there would be drawbacks to being unable to sense the very aether around you…” Emet-Selch trails off, hands up turned as he shrugs his already sunken shoulders.

He looks exactly as you had seen him earlier this morning, dressed in the same imperial robes with the same silly white streak in his hair. You twirl the dagger in your hands with ease, scoffing as you move to lie back down in your bed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ascian?” you question harshly, not at all willing to play nice. You weren’t quite ready to throw your life away, mouthing off to a being such as he; you were no fool. You were sure that even a child could sense the danger he exuded from his very being, but you also weren’t in the mood to deal with mind games.

“My, my, aren’t we touchy.” He comments, crossing his arms and looking down at you from his nose, his lips pulled in a condescending smirk. “I come to pay the vaunted hero a visit, and am only met with hostility. Surely you are not so inhospitable to all your guests?” He asks, voice lofty and teasing, making your brow furrow in irritation.

“If all you came here to do was mock me, I would prefer you leave me be.” Is your answer, wanting to close your eyes and ignore his presence. Sadly, even with his rather hands off approach to “aiding” your group as he had said he would, you didn’t quite trust him enough to blink, let alone rest around him.

Choosing to lay on your side, you keep your eyes on him, taking notice of how his own rove across your body in a way that is almost curious.

“Normally I would follow your request and be on my way, however I find my curiosity weighing out my apathy.” He crosses over to the nearby desk and you watch as he snaps his gloved fingers. With slight wonder, you watch in awe as the simple wooden chair transforms into an extravagant, plush lounge chair.

He reclines as a royal would, crossing one leg over the other as he stares you down, eyes somehow serious and taunting at once. “I find myself interested, and perhaps a tad too invested in what could possibly be upsetting you so. So by all means, let it out.” He grins, making a sweeping motion of his hand.

You regard him silently for a moment, wondering if he’s actually serious. It’s not often you find yourself presented with the opportunity of someone who will listen. Listen to your frustrations, your woes, your chagrin at having to be you.

Of what it is to be the Warrior of Light.

“You’re not going to run off and tell Elidibus what a sad sack I am if I do talk to you, are you?” You question, moving to sit up to put you on equal footing with the Ascian sitting across from you. He rudely snorts, the action somehow still elegant on him. “Hardly.” He scoffs.

“There’s not much to say really. I wish I wasn’t me.” You offer nonchalantly, missing the slight look of concern on his face.

“Do not waste my time by giving me clipped statements.”

Something in his voice makes you look at him again, reevaluate his presence in your room. He might be relaxed in his chair, but his focus is entirely on you. There is a muted demand to his last statement, an edge to his tone that maybe, just maybe, he actually does want to listen to you.

“I don’t enjoy being the Warrior of Light.” You begin slowly, trying to judge his reaction but his face is as impassive as ever.

“There was no way for me to predict that I would be Hydaelyn’s chosen,” you can’t help but giggle at how his face twists with disgust at Her name but you continue, “and be the sole Champion of Eorzea. I had only left home to go and see what the world had to offer, only to find that I was the sole savior the world had.” Just saying the words irritates you all over again, losing what calm you had.

“It’s not enough that the Source can’t stay saved, but I must also be the savior of this world!” You hiss, baring your teeth at the ancient being before you. “Was it not enough that I had to liberate two nations? Strike down three Ascians, beings so old and powerful that I cannot even begin to imagine what any of you can do. More and more is constantly asked of me, and I…”

You let out a staggered breath, shoulders slumping much like the man across from you. “I’m tired of it.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air between you, somehow heftier by the weight of his stare. You wonder what is going through his head. You take the time to quickly analyze his features, seeing as any time he deigned to make an appearance, the tension in the room would skyrocket and he would scurry off after sowing his chaos.

He looks as tired as you, if not more so, the dark circles around his eyes strangely enhancing his sharp, handsome features. His golden eyes twinkle like the finest cut topaz, shimmering as if the very sun itself lights them despite how dimly lit your room is. His hair seems to fall a little too perfectly in place, the white streak of his hair standing out even against his pale skin.

“Perhaps you need a way to relieve the tension.”

His words snap you out of your silent appraisal, finding his expression has changed, his voice teasing. “Sadly screaming into my pillow and beating things up don’t make me feel better.” You huff, leaning back on your hands.

“Screaming into your pillow you say?” He echoes, chuckling at his own personal joke. “That very well may happen. My proposal was one of a far more pleasurable method of, as you mortals say, blowing off some steam.” He purrs, voice low and seductive, a baritone as smooth as a fine brandy.

You arch a single eyebrow at him, wondering if he was really offering what you thought he was offering.

“Are you propositioning me?”

Always best to make sure.

He barks out laughter at that, making a show of wiping his eye. “Never let it be said that the Warrior of Light went into things half sure.” He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, hero, I am offering you release; a union of our bodies to ease all that turmoil you’ve got building inside you.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice, and you quietly wonder if he has any secret motives by sleeping with you. However his words from days prior, that he only speaks the truth, leaves you doubting that he would use sex as a means to silence you.

Though you can’t deny, it would be very dramatic, and very much like him.

“If it is your own pleasure you worry about, fret not; I have had...years of practice.” He murmurs, bringing one hand to his lips to slowly pull his glove from his hand. You watch the action from start to finish, mind already wandering to how smooth his hand looked, and how great it would feel on your body.

“Very well.” Standing to your feet, you move to tower above him in even strides, looking down at the ancient being before you. “If it is release you’ll grant me, then I will allow it. However, it must be on my terms.” Your voice leaves no room for argument, and you take pride in watching as his eyebrows raise toward his hairline for a moment.

“By all means, hero. State your terms.” He makes no move to stop you as you move forward to kneel on the chair, straddling his lap with ease. He’s warm, which strikes you as strange, though you suppose that despite being an Ascian, he still has taken a mortal form.

There is desire in those molten pools of his, and knowing it is directed at you is empowering. You place your hands, worn and torn from battle, upon his shoulders, shuddering beneath his touch as his hands settle themselves at your hips.

“If you wish to help me find release, then you must please me.” You begin, taking care to watch for any change in his expression. “You must do as I say. Touch me how I wish. Take care of me.” His hands play with the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers sending sparks racing down your spine as he just barely brushes against your skin.

“So the vaunted hero wishes to be worshipped?” Though phrased like a question, it one of rhetorical nature, his eyes half lidded as they trail down your body. “A mere mortal asking worship of a Paragon. Hydaelyn’s chosen consorting with a bringer of darkness…”

His smirk is roguish as he finally slides his gaze back up to your own. “Why, if I were not here to hear the very words straight from your lips, I’d find myself disinclined to believe them.”

You take his chin by the hand, keep his focus locked on you. “I’m surprised you’re still alive, with all that pride you have.” You tilt his chin and he allows it; it is a control he bequeaths to you. “You probably don’t like that; having to bow to the whims of a mortal.” You finish with a click of your tongue, watching as fire lights behind his eyes.

“Is that a challenge, hero?” He mumbles, bottom lip poked out in a pout, eyes sparking with indignation.

“It’s your pride on the line, not mine.” You reply easily, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your waist. “However, I am not so callous as to prevent you to do anything you dislike. You will speak up if I do something you don’t like, won’t you?”

His eyes twinkle for a moment, his hands creeping underneath your shirt to finally grasp at your skin. “Of course.” he murmurs, eyes drifting from yours as he raises your shirt, exposing your skin to him. His eyes are hungry, and you wonder if he is more eager for release than you are.

“Let’s put these skills of yours to the test then, Ascian.” You huff, allowing him to raise your shirt high enough that his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, glad he had chosen to come at this hour when you’ve forgone your undergarments. His touch is confident, self-assurance shining through every glance of his fingers on your tender flesh.

“Does the hero want me to sing her praises?” He questions, tilting his head as he looks at you from beneath his lashes. “To worship her as one would a god?”

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation, raising your arms to help him get your shirt off but he wills it away with a mere snap of his fingers. His hands climb higher, eyes drinking in your form though there is a distant look to them; as if he is looking through you. “Touch me.” you demand, watching as his hands cup your breasts gently in his hands, running his thumbs across your nipples, now pebbled from his attentions.

“Your mouth...I want you to,” you don’t even get to finish the sentence before he leans forward and his lips press to the skin of your breast, teeth lightly nipping on a pert nipple that has you shuddering above him.

You must say that he is as skilled as he claims, his movements practiced and calculated as he tugs delicately with his teeth, knows just how much suction that has you writhing in his lap. He releases your breast with a pop, his breath ghosting across the now moist skin. “I do hope you are up for the challenge yourself, hero.”

His tone hints at pleasures unknown and stories untold, that you find yourself momentarily shaken, enraptured by the lust pooling in those gold eyes. Eager to take back control you fist your hand in his hair roughly, brows furrowing at his smirk. “Did I say you could talk?” you hiss, to which he snickers.

“Then what would you have me do?” He asks, hands moving to slip themselves to running down your back once more, his hands dipping to play with the top of your waistband. “Simply say what you desire, hero. I am more than willing to play the part.” The huskiness in his voice spurs you on, fuel to your already raging desire.

“I want you between my legs.” You state without pretense, not dropping your gaze as he rises from the chair, moving the two of you to the bed. When he lays you down you find that it too has changed, much like the chair from earlier. Gone are the cotton sheets, replaced instead with fine silk, caressing you much like his hands are.

“I want to see you too.” You add, stopping him before he can settle himself above you.

“As you wish.” He acknowledges, his robes dissolving into mist before your very eyes, baring his lean form above you. You didn’t expect him to have no meat on his bones, but it is still somewhat jarring all the same to see him bare before you; all hard lines and lean edges, a faint musculature that betrays the awesome power you know lurks beneath the surface.

You reciprocate the same shamelessness he had shown earlier with his appraisal of your own body, watching with rapt attention as he climbs into the bed to hover over your body.

You expect him to go straight between your legs but instead he busies himself with your neck, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin as his hands roam across your naked skin. “So quiet. Must I work for it?” He purrs against your skin, the sound going straight between your legs.

He trails down with more kisses across your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. You slip your fingers into his hair as he continues his way downward, parting your legs so that you may hook them over his shoulders.

“Feeling inadequate Ascian?” You tease despite the breathlessness to your voice, seeing that mahogany hair with a streak of white between your thighs. With another snap of his fingers your bottoms are gone, leaving you fully nude to him.

“Never.” He says with a smirk, pressing gentle kisses to the skin of your inner thigh. You unintentionally jerk in his hold, knowing you are dripping wet for him and yet he will not touch you where you need it most.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a growl rising in your throat at his teasing.

“I am between your legs, as requested.” He croons, caressing your thigh gently, pressing more kisses to your skin. “Or did you desire more from me?”

He is obviously having too much of a good time with this, and that will not do.

“Eat me out.” You order, pressing your hips to his face. “I want you to make me come.”

He holds your gaze for just a moment before he finally presses his mouth to your folds, testing the waters with small flicks of his tongue. The sight of his golden, hawk like eyes peeking from over your curls is erotic in itself, his tongue growing braver until he finally slips pasts your folds to seek the pink bud he knows is lying underneath.

Whimpers begin to slip out as he devotes himself to his task, annoyance shining his eyes momentarily before they have that far away look to them once again. His tongue circles around your clit in a way that makes your head spin, your breaths coming fast until he pulls away.

“I will be the first to say that while your physical form is appealing…” He murmurs close to your dripping sex, breath sending shivers racing up your spine. “However...with my sight I find your soul far more beautiful.”

You flush red at his praise, shivering as he brings a finger to slowly drag across your clit, his gaze almost awestruck at how you keen out your pleasure. “Loathe as I am to take demands from a mortal…” he trails off, moving to press a kiss to your folds, drinking down your nectar. “Your soul shines far too wonderfully like this.”

You’re sure you feel your heart skip a beat for a moment, caught halfway between embarrassment and affection. He resumes his task with ardor, his eyes fluttering shut despite his prior comment on enjoying the appearance of your soul.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to actually see to look upon your soul, but most coherent thought goes out the window as Emet-Selch flicks his tongue at your sex, unashamed of the mess you’re making of his face in his bid to please you. His eyes are open again, staring through you, into you, and you wonder what you must look like to him.

The thought of someone as powerful and ancient as him steals your breath away. It makes your thighs clench tighter and your heels dig harder into his back. If it hurts, he doesn’t complain, if anything it spurs him on further, his movements growing more insistent. The moans finally begin to flow forth, filling the room that you haven’t realized has slowly changed, so caught up in chasing your pleasure.

He’s found what rhythm you like, what makes you moan loudest and it’s a continuous push to the edge with no signs of stopping. You pray that none of the Scions will suddenly require your presence, for you’re sure that your moans are quite audible from outside the door, and this is the last thing you want to explain to them.

How does one explain taking an Ascian to bed? What words could smooth over the fact that one of your greatest enemies currently lies nestled between your thighs, lapping at your folds as if a man dying of thirst and gazing at you like a blind man seeing for the first time?

It’s wrong, it's oh so wrong and you know it, and yet you find yourself unable to convince yourself to push yourself away from the Ascian to stop him, though from his grip on your thighs, he wouldn’t let you leave if you tried.

You watch hazily as one of his hands reaches downward, a moan pulled from his throat as he strokes his length. While his moan excites you, how deep and rich it was, you will not let him be distracted from his task.

None too gently do you pull his mouth away from your sex, urging him upward so that you may flip him beneath you. “It’s not your turn.” You huff, warmth blooming in your chest at how his eyes rove across your form in a way akin to reverence, eyes still glittering as he uses his sight to peer at your soul.

Pressing him on his back you climb higher until your hips rest just above his face, and from there he needs no further instruction as he presses his mouth to your clit once more, a low and throaty moan tugged from him as you pull at his hair.

You can’t help but take a peek at his length behind you, noticing just how hard he is, and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if he really is that excited solely from pleasuring you, a pearl of precum leaking from the tip that you’re eager to taste, but not right now. Not when he slips a finger into your aching hole and thrusts it in time with his tongue working your clit, his name torn from your lips in a sigh as you press your hips further into his face.

He makes no sound of protest as you do so, that eagerness he had displayed before returning full force that has your legs quivering to keep yourself upright. Pleas for more tumble forth from your lips, his eyes holding yours in a gaze so intense that you find yourself unable to look away.

A second finger slips in with the first, thrusting at a fierce pace that practically has you sobbing in ecstasy atop him. It feels so godsdamned good, you feel ready to overload after having denied yourself release for so long.

You’re not sure when you started begging for him to make you come, for him to finally give you that last push you needed, but he curls his fingers just so and you fall apart atop him, crying out his name in abandon as your orgasm shakes you, barely able to support yourself on your arms as white hot pleasure shoots to every nerve ending in your body.

You moan in light protest as he continues to lap at your core, his fingers having retreated but his attention has not. “E-Enough,” you breathe shakily, hardly able to move yourself from atop him to flop on the bed. You feel him shift to move and as you turn to face him you freeze, feeling every bit the proverbial lamb before the golden eyes of the wolf.

His lips shine with your juices, pink tongue coming to swipe across them. His eyes are half lidded as he stares down at you. Though he is currently in the dominant position, his gaze speaks of subservience; a need to please that has your lust spiking all over again as you roll to your back to fully face him.

“Where would you have me next?” He asks, moving to hover above you, caging you with his arms. You let your own snake around his neck, tickling the fine hairs at the nape as you bring him closer to you.

“Inside me.” You whisper, feeling suddenly hesitant to kiss him. The decision is made for you when he closes the gap, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip to get you to open up for him.

Soon enough do you take over the kiss, having him moaning into your mouth as you reach between the two of you to stroke his cock. “I want you to fuck me.” You hiss, feeling how hot and ready he is in your hands.

He lets loose a low chuckle, the baritone of his voice rumbling through you. “Such vulgar words, Warrior of Light.” he purrs, lining himself up with your entrance.

You feel the head nudge past your folds, your hips already angling to try and take him inside before he can even push himself inside. “I find myself quite willing to obey, so long as you let me see that wonderful soul of yours.”

“What’s so,” Your inquiry is cut off as he finally pushes inside, feeling as if the breath was knocked out of you at his girth. He just barely pushes your limits, your body doing it’s best to adjust to his length as he presses kisses to your jawline. “Twelve above…” you moan, rolling your hips against him that has him thrumming against you.

“Yes, just like that.” He praises, pulling out slowly, letting you feel the length of him before thrusting back in, making sure you’re adjusted. He continues that slow pace, watching you closely for any discomfort, but you haven’t the heart to tell him you’re simply wrapped in so much bliss that your body feels as if it can barely take it.

“W-What does it look like?” You ask, breath hitching as he just barely brushed against that spot inside of you. “My soul, I mean..”

It took every ounce of effort you had to form coherent sentences with Emet-Selch thrusting inside you, his strokes measured and purposeful. Even in this was he skilled, as if he was determined to make sure the only noises you were making were lustful sighs or wanton moans.

When he smirks at you, his own hair mussed, skin flushed, you find he looks incredibly charming. “Normally it is the color of the sky. What the sky is supposed to look like. A dazzling, brilliant blue.”

His hands move to clutch your hips, gripping with surprising strength as the same smirk turns devilish. He brings you down hard on his cock, pleasure shooting through you as he stays hilted inside you. “It flares crimson like a sunset when you make your demands.”

You gaze up at him in wonder as he finally sets a steady pace, making your back arch in invitation to which he readily accepts. Bending over he takes a nipple between his teeth, nibbling lightly until his mouth engulfs it entirely, tongue swiping over the sensitive bud in perfect synchronization with his thrusts that has you mewling like a cat beneath him.

“Fuck me,” you demand, though it comes out a plea with how pleasure filled your voice is, your arms clutching him tightly as you meet his thrusts. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Your taunt is cut off by your own moan as he plunges deep inside, his moan dancing with your own as he pistons his hips into your wet sheathe.

You’re glad he had changed the bed, the room to much finer material because you are positive that the old, rickety cot would’ve left no pretenses as to just what was going on in your room with how forceful his thrusts were.

You had forgotten that there would be strength in the lean muscle that was currently flexing beneath your greedy hands; muscle that was now being put to use as Emet-Selch drove himself inside you, his mouth hanging open to make room for his sharp breaths as he plunged deep inside you.

He buries his face in your shoulder, your hand fists in his hair as he rocks into you at a brutal pace, giving you just what you desired, or rather at this point needed. There is something else you need, before it is all said and done.

You carefully roll the two of you over, the surprise in his eyes endearing as you straddle yourself atop him, hands flat on his chest as you begin to raise and lower your hips onto him. Now he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, your eyes fluttering shut as you race toward oblivion, your body seemingly moving on its own accord.

“E-Emet,” you whine, feeling yourself so very close that edge. Distantly you realize you’re not ready for it to be over yet, not ready for him to stop looking at you as if he had not seen something so magical.

The choice is taken from your hands as he rubs at your clit and you come undone, crying out his name in release. Stars dance behind your eyelids as your orgasm sweeps you away, feeling Emet-Selch follow you soon after with your body clenching him so tightly.

The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath as you bask in the afterglow. He is the first to move by trailing a hand lightly on the skin of your back, seeming to be content with the silence as you come down from your high.

You shift to meet his gaze, which you’re surprised to find calm and affectionate. “Well?” He prompts, the corners of his lips pulling into a satisfied grin. “I made good on my word, I hope?”

You hum thoughtfully for a moment to tease him, giggling at his displeased expression. “Yes. It was more than satisfactory.” You concede, giving him a mischievous grin of your own as you trail your finger across his chest. “And you? You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a bit.” You tease, pleased to see him suddenly unable to look you in the eye.

“Yes, well...it certainly wasn’t a waste of my time.” He scoffs, giving your skin a light pinch, smirking at your yelp of pain.

“I have half a mind to crush my head between my thighs Ascian.” You snarl, giving him a hard jab, to which he gives a genuine laugh.

“If that is your way of asking for another go Warrior, I find myself ready for the task.” His touch turns heavy as it snakes down your body, his voice but a whisper as he holds you close.

You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at his amorous actions, but find yourself unable when his eyes glitter, knowing he is looking upon the beauty of your soul. It is certainly not the strangest compliment you’ve received, but it is by far the best.

#Emet Selch #Solus zos Galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Shadowbringers #FFXIV Commissions #Writing Commissions #Commissions #Comms #my writings

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iamalivenow · 5 years

Text

[i can’t tag it right but its horny]

He lets them take.

It's long since become a pattern, slipping into their room and watching them whisper and sign at the air and once they are still he becomes corporeal before them. The first time he had elicited a yelp, which he had laughed at, called undignified, and had not received anything since. It had been daunting at first, just his usual business of sewing doubt, it's so rare that his seeds do not bloom, but of course the Ascian killer doesn't bite.

No, he thinks now, as he lets himself solidify in the cold room, he would have been disappointed if they did.

“Who are you talking to, before I grace you with my presence?” They shrug, and reach out for him from their spot on the bed. “I'll start to feel jealous, mind you.”

“You'll move on.”

“Ha.” But he goes anyway, straddling their lap, the heavy warm fabric of his gown spilling between the two of them. “You wound me, Hero.”

“Are your feelings so fragile?”

“More shocked that our fair Hero is so rude behind locked doors.” The wind picks up from the balcony, the night sky alight with stars so bright he can see them from the corner of his eyes even here.

“So I'm yours now?”

“Hm.” He looks back at them in truth now, before leaning forward and stealing a kiss. “Who else dares lay claim?” They smile and it's soft and just the same as it's always been. This body is so different, but still, the smile stays the same.

It hurts just as much every time.

“A great many people.” They kiss him back, hands slipping under his coat to grip at his shoulders gently. They're still very delicate with him, even when it's become evident he doesn't need to coddling. This body isn't even real for Zodiark's sake, if he wanted to be coddled he- he doesn't even know what he would do because the thought never crossed his mind- him- their enemy in every feasible way. And them, being gentle.

It's laughable.

“Public commodity.” He says like an insult and they nod, pressing their lips against his neck. “Even here.”

“Can't seem to stay out of the spotlight.”

Their mouth is warm, their breath more so, as if the cold night can't leech the heat from them. Whatever ghost they spend time with can't steal it either.

“How many of them wish they could take my place?” Here, he means, in their lap. An enemy to the universe and an immortal is their first choice in intimate relations, for whatever reason. Or maybe not even their first. Maybe in those few moments when he diverts his attention else where they shack up with everything that moves.

Still, then, he alone gets the luxury of their bed.

It's the least he deserves.

He wants to be more selfish, to ask, to demand exclusivity he knows they couldn't grant him even they wanted to. He should be able to have it.

He doesn't though, so busy derailing his plans, so busy trying to save the world, they barely even acknowledge him.

“A few, mayhap.”

“Come now hero.” Their hands are on his sides, rubbing up and down, sharing their warmth wether he wants it or not. “Humble doesn't suit you.” He cups their face, forces their attention on him, just him.

“Funny.” They mutter. Their eyes search his, for what he doesn't begin to assume. He prays for recognition but he knows he won't receive it. “That's always the highest selling point.”

They don't deserve you, he wants to say.

He settles for another kiss instead, longer, deeper, with tongue so that they have no choice but to dig their fingers into his sides. Not hard enough to bruise, perish the thought of them just doing what he wants, but hard enough to at least give him the suggestion of power.

“Find better buyers.”

He can feel them smile against his mouth before another kiss, and this one finally leaves him as close to breathless as he can be, considering he doesn't have to breath.

The aether travels between them, two willing conduits, until any individuality is erased and the two of them are just an extension of one connection. Punch drunk off of it, he stares at their hands where they slip below the gown and rub against his bare skin, fingers fanning out on his hips. Their eyes are bright, practically glowing, wet with tears from the sensation and he can barely stop his own hands, where they yearn to cup their face and wipe those tears away.

He shouldn't. It's too soft, to full of longing for a quick tryst that even someone as dense as they would have too notice. It's one thing to do it after the affair, but before they've even stripped down their plate? No. No, his hands instead go rigid on their shoulders, digging into the quilted fabric of their armor.

“Like you?” They whisper, their mouth on his, teeth on his lips.

Their aether dances between the two of them, bouncing back and forth. He tastes salt, their tears dripping into their mouth. Maybe even his own. Does he cry- can this body cry? It's not as if he's had much reason to experiment with it.

Where better to start.

“Yes.”

They hum against his neck, sucking a nasty bruise that would be a much larger problem if he was worried about trivial things like scandal or reputation.

They get his robe off the fastest way they've found to which is dragging it from the bottom over his head. It's an oddly childish solution, and their excitement to see him bare is more like teenage desperation than anything actually alluring. This body is nice, sure, but it's not the nicest he's ever worn. From what little he bothers to learn from their usual partners, he's the outlier.

Thin, old, bent over the way he is, he can't begin to imagine what they actually want, what they get out of these little trysts. Or maybe they're just into sickly. Mind, he doesn't actually have to look like this. He's sure if they ever actually asked for a different form, he could accommodate them. All they had to do was ask.

They lay him down onto their bed, the blanket scratches against his back as they settle between his legs. They seem to like his legs, if the licking is anything to go by. It does feel rather endless, their tongue dragging along his thighs, pausing only to kiss or bite in turn. Their fingers rest on his knees, massaging the muscle there.

vHe's loathe to tell them that he doesn't actually bother walking all that much, but then he would give them an excuse to not drown him in this bottomless sea of kindness. We're they this kind before, did they spend centuries waiting to see him just so that they could rub his joints warm? It seems that way, some how. Battle worn palms rub along his knees, his thighs, the juncture of his hips before he finally gets impatient enough to grab their hand and move it between his legs with a sound of frustration.

Now it's their turn to smirk at him, to settle. They're never so cruel as to actually lord his desire over his head, but they're not so kind that they can keep the satisfaction off of their face.

He lets them take.

They don't ask for much, maybe that's why he's so generous, so eager to grant them access to all of him.

Or maybe it's because he gets as high off of the memories as he does off of their aether. The phantom touches he's been chasing for eons finally real, finally warm, finally solid, that he can glut himself on the quiet moments that transports him so very very far back.

Hythlodaeus is practically whispering in his ear.

“Ghost.” They say and snap him out of his reverie. “I was talking to a ghost.”

He makes eye contact for just long enough for them to be satisfied before they take him in their mouth.

“A ghost.” He echos, one hand tangling in their hair.

“Mmhm.” The humming feels nice, all the way up his spine. Their mouth is warm and their tongue is talented. There's little more he could ask for. A comfortable bed with a person who trusts him much too much. A nice view of the stars.

“Ghost of who?” He asks, gripping their hair a little tighter and letting his hips jolt up to meet their lips, to feel the roof of their mouth, the back of their throat.

“Hm.” They resettle, pulling one of his legs over their shoulder, as if he could be bothered to be flexible enough. “A very judgmental person.” They sign, to lazy to actually stop sucking on his cock. He blinks- that's an odd thing to complain about. “He thinks I should sooner die then let you into my bed.”

Their fingers are fast, almost a blur when it's getting harder to concentrate. And when their teeth just barely graze him,

“And you let me into your bed anyway.”

They shrug.

“They always hound me.” They sign slower now, incapable of multitasking when they're bobbing their head up and down.

It's odd.

Not really what you expect a hero to say. But then, this is no ordinary hero. He should learn to stop being surprised by them. I He tries to search their eyes again, but they're squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corners. They're so dramatic sometimes. But they're still gorgeous, and the sight of them like that makes him hot- hotter.

The aether between them is bouncing insanely, he feels it clump in his arm before it breaks through itself and settles into their calf before moving again, to just in his lower back. They suck harder and when he comes the aether might as well erupt out of him too.

His chest is raising quickly, and he can feel the distant rush of blood in his ears.

They keep his slowly softening cock in their mouth, content to just lay there for a while, head resting on his hip. They kick their boots off somehow, more impressive then anything they've done so far, in his opinion and kick of their leggings after. They remove clothes while barely moving, an occasional hum of satisfaction when Emet-Selch pats or rubs their head.

“Where do you go to pick up ghosts?”

“A cemetery.” They're finally bare and pulling a blanket over their lower half. He wonders how much time he has before their jaw starts cramping.

“Spend a lot of time in cemeteries?” They're still for a long time, long enough that he closes his eyes and allows himself to start drifting off, wondering when he had become so comfortable with them, when they tap his hip.

“Not enough.”

So dramatic.

#writing #full fic #ffxiv #emet-selch #wol #emet-selch x wol #emet-selch/wol

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years

Text

Klarosummer - Treehouse || Cartref Enaid

@klarosummerbingo

Caroline breathed in absorbing the scents of the forest. Wood. Soil. Water. Fresh, earthen smells that had become harder and harder to find in the modern world. Not that the whims of humans truly affected her, isolated as she was in her own realm, but it was still a shame to witness.

No matter.

She ran meticulous fingertips across the bark of her tree, weaving fine threads of her magick through its wood. It thrummed under her touch, sending slow, powerful pulses into the earth. Her tree, nurtured from a seed by her power and carefully crafted to bridge the border between the land she called home and the land of mortals, would never wilt or wither. Human toxins meant nothing to an Immortal and just as little to an Immortal’s creation.

The pulses grew fainter, settling into the background, as its roots burrowed new paths in new soil.

Stepping back from the tree, Caroline held her hand aloft and gently nudged at the humming bond she could feel in the back of her mind. She felt the slight returned flutter of acknowledgement and waited.

Waited as light shifted through leaves, the sun and moon crossed paths, the realm carved out its new home. Time was an odd illusion amidst such dense magick.

And then, on near silent wings, a large, black bird appeared in the distance, elegantly swooping through the overhead branches with ease. The bird gently landed on her forearm, emitting an affectionate croak.

A smile tugged at her lips and Caroline cooed at her bird, petting the glossy feathers on her head.

“Welcome back, Branwen, what news have you to share?”

The large raven shuffled up her arm to perch more comfortably on her shoulder, taking a moment to preen at the golden strands of her hair. With a rustle of feathers, Branwen settled as their bond hummed between them. A low and raspy, though still feminine, voice echoed through Caroline’s mind accompanied by images of new places and people.

It seems our tree has settled itself in a small town this time. The inhabitants call it, Mystic Falls.

Caroline’s lip twitched. A rather apropos name to be certain.

Quite. The whole place is also swarming with witch spawn, mostly children of the blood but also some children of the moon.

Her eyebrows rose. Really, now? Both of them? Surely, there has been a blood bath or two by now?

Not recently, insofar as I can derive. The earth carries echoes of a slaughter of the children of the moon sometime in the recent past, but currently it is two factions of the children of the blood that are quarreling. And one of those factions is...aberrant.

How do you mean, my friend?

They seem to be an odd amalgamation of both blood and moon. One of them reeks of old blood and a near feral wolf. The rest are settled moon children carrying the scent of recent death and blood.

Caroline’s brow furrowed as she contemplated Branwen’s words, more carefully scrutinizing the handful of scenes her familiar had observed. As Branwen reported, their faces bore eyes of wolf gold yet also the fangs and dark veins of the blood children.

I see. How curious...My thanks, Branwen. Mayhaps, I shall venture into this so-named Mystic Falls myself.

Caroline lifted her other arm, careful to not jostle her friend, and conjured several field mice. Appearing between one blink and the next, the newborn rodents scurried hurriedly for cover.

Branwen croaked with delight, jetting off her shoulder in a flurry of feathers to her well wishes of a happy hunt.

---

Caroline couldn’t quite restrain the faint crinkle of her nose as she took in the unimpressive visage of the establishment cheerfully announcing itself as the “Mystic Grill.” It was...quaint, she supposed.

The inside was a bit better, containing all the appropriate accouterments: a bar, multiple tables with varying degrees of privacy, a few game tables and a dart board or two.

With a slight eye-roll at herself (honestly, she wasn’t here to sight see), she made her way toward the bar. The barkeep was young, very young, likely too young to drink himself according to modern rulings. It was curious that he was behind the counter.

She offered him a small smile and a subtle flutter of her lashes. “Good evening,” her eyes flicked to his name-tag, “Matthew, I am feeling rather partial to an Old Fashioned tonight.”

“Could I see some ID, ma’am?”

She chuckled, wondering how he would react to her true age, but produced a card all the same. A wonderful piece of charm work, he would see a perfectly genuine driver’s license declaring her Caroline Morgans, age 23.

He passed it back with a thanks and shuffled around to start mixing her drink.

“Well, well I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Caroline restrained a second eye-roll, this one far more well-deserved, with difficulty. She peered over her shoulder, taking in the new presence beside her.

Dark hair. Icy blue eyes. A handsome face. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like him. He practically oozed false charm and arrogance.

“I should think not, seeing as I just arrived earlier today,” she answered, curtly.

“Oohh unclench, Barbie. So tense, maybe I can help you relax? Hm?” He waggled his eyebrows outrageously, in a manner she assumed he thought flirtatious.

This time she didn’t bother to restrain her reaction, letting a slight sneer curl on her lips.

“Pass.”

The clack of a glass being set down interrupted any further insult she may have uttered and she gave an acknowledging nod and smile to the boy as he stepped away to help other customers.

She sipped at her drink relishing the bite of the whiskey and bitters smoothed by a hint of sweetness and citrus. It was a decent drink, but the experience was marred by two things. The irritant’s continued presence next to her and a faint aftertaste of something herbal. It took a moment to place it, but she soon realized it was vervain and wolfsbane.

Not so ignorant then.

Before she could further contemplate the mounting curiosities of the tiny town, the pest interjected once more.

“No need to be rude, Barbie. I assure you, I’m quite the hit with the ladies.” Caroline leveled a ferocious glare in his direction as he placed his hand on her forearm and watched with increasing outrage as his pupil dilated. “So, come with me.”

Her fury seethed low in her belly as she stood to follow the little cretin, quite eager to teach the mannerless cur a lesson. Nevermind the audacity he had to try to control her mind, his casual air sealed his fate.

A desire to feed would be one thing, but his words implied something quite different. Some of her bloodkin would be enraged only by his audacity and not his crime, but for her - she with her tumultuous relationships with her half-siblings and the memory of a troubled boy whose blood named him her nephew twice over - for her consent meant something.

The fool led her into the back alley, taking no time to try to compel anything else, simply slamming her against the wall. His face rippled into dark eyes and veins and fangs, his hands wandering places they had no right to.

He had his chance.

In an instant, she reversed their positions, pinning him to the bricks with ease. His confusion was obvious as he clawed at her arm, a mere tickle to her, and he shouted.

“What the fuck?! What are you?”

Caroline just hummed in the back of her throat, pondering appropriate punishments even as she absently answered. “Now, who is being rude? Asking such crass questions.”

Ah, now there’s an idea.

She leaned forward, easily bypassing his flailing to blow into his ear.

A little pain, she thought, as she swiftly stepped back, allowing the creature to fall into a screaming heap. And a little training. Her magick eagerly burned through his brain and body, weaving her curse into his flesh, into his bone, saturating his blood, tying it with razored hooks to the very essence of him. Anytime he thought to force his will upon others, he would burn. Just as he was now.

No longer interested in arrogant vampire’s fate - assured her magick would do as she intended - she turned to regard the second presence in the alley. A much older one that she had sensed follow them from the bar.

“Enjoy the show?” She drawled.

A wicked, little smirk crossed his lips, even as his eyes remained dark and guarded.

“Immensely. A Fae’s vengeance is always a lovely thing to behold.”

Well, well this one was quite informed. Though, she supposed he ought to be at his age.

He extended an arm to her. “Would you care to walk with me?”

She took it. “I do so hope you do not intend to waste my time, child of the blood and moon.”

“Please, call me, Klaus.” He dimpled at her. “And I prefer the term ‘Hybrid’ myself.”

Caroline eyed him, allowing some of her curiosity to color her expression.

“Klaus, then, why is it you sought me out?”

---

Caroline traced the swirls of the handsome mahogany table, intrigued by Klaus’ tale. A bit intrigued by the man himself as well, if she were honest.

“Your wolf is new to you, is he not?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “In a manner of speaking.”

She chortled, tickled by his careful wording. He was certainly wise to tread so carefully, but she was too interested to harm him at the moment. Not that she would tell him that.

“You told me you seek your family. Family is pack for a wolf. You do not lose pack. Cannot,” she emphasized.

He looked like he had been about to interrupt, though his mouth shut with a click of his teeth at the ‘cannot.’

“You’re saying I should be able to...sense their location.”

She nodded. “I can understand the importance of family, Klaus. So I offer you this insight with no debt or strings: embrace your wolf. Shift. Run. He’s practically feral, and it is no wonder you cannot use all of his senses.” She paused, wondering at what she was about to offer, but opted to indulge. “I shall run with you. We will find your family.”

---

The last time Klaus had turned it had been frenzied, surrounded by the power of a broken curse and a full moon, quick. Now, it was the force of his will hastening the process, rapidly shattering and reshaping bone.

He growled low in his throat, the sound transformed to a guttural howl as the transformation completed.

This time he could feel the wildness in his blood, his wolf a heavy presence alongside his vampire. Powerful in a way it wasn’t, when his curse broke. He turned with a snarl as something moved in his peripheral vision.

A large gray wolf stood a few paces away.

His snarl cut off as he tilted his head, inhaling a familiar scent.

Magic. Tree. Fae. Woman. She-wolf? Bombarded his thoughts in a tumbling stream of consciousness, his wolf sounding both puzzled and delighted.

She chuffed at him.

Follow.

She then turned and darted into the woods, his wolf hot at her heels.

They ran for miles, leaping over logs and foliage, traversing the forest with supernatural swiftness. And as his frantic energy started to burn out, his mind grew sharper. His wolf and vampire blurred at their edges, blending together. He started to feel a slight tug, and an instinct to move toward it.

Pack. A growl sounded in the back of his mind and Klaus pivoted, following the pull, the other wolf now running at his side.

Pack.

---

Author’s note: Fun fact: I am being lazy with my titles recently. Yesterday’s siren themed one was named “sing” in Greek while today’s is “Soul Home” in Welsh (according to Google translate anyway).

#Klaroline #KlarosummerBingo #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #Klaroline Edits #Klaroline Photosets #Klaroline Aesthetics #My Writing #My Edits

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