#rinse your mind of their FILTH! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ham-st4r · 1 year

Text

𝑹𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒑 - 𝑳. 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈

✿Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

✿Warnings: smut, pure filth, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, cum eating, breeding kink, daddy kink, male masturbation, cursing, implied round 2. (Since the daddy kink won on votes, I added it 🤭)

✿Genre: smut, 18+, read at your own discretion.

✿Summary: in which a road trip leads to you riding your friend in the back seat of a minivan, that’s literally it lol I didn’t add Niki for obvious reasons, and just to save any controversy, the last thing I need is drama in here.

✿Number of words: 3,184k

Pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

Find your way around!

You’re not sure whose idea it was to invite you and your best friend on the road trip or who thought it would be a great idea to travel in a minivan given the fact it only held seven people and there were eight people, including you and you’re also not sure why you agreed, but here you sat on one of your guy friends lap on a whole 4-hour road trip and halfway into the drive it was getting really uncomfortable more than uncomfortable.

Not only that but why the hell did you have to sit on heeseung’s lap? Couldn’t someone else sit there?

You didn’t even ask cause you knew they’d give you a bullshit excuse about you being smaller and weighing less.

You wouldn’t mind sitting on him in any other circumstance cause he was undoubtedly a hottie, but right now, your mind couldn’t even travel there as the pain in your body increased.

And on top of that, Jake and his girlfriend were practically sharing a seat, so why on earth were you crammed in the back with heeseung while Sunghoon told a series of terrible jokes?

You couldn’t believe how Jake and his girlfriend seemed to be having the time of their lives while in the seat in front of you in your same position, except your best friend was only halfway on jakes lap.

You wished you were having that much fun, but your back ached, and there was still a whole hour left. “Umm, can we stop? I have to use the bathroom,” heeseung spoke up. He had been quiet for most of the ride, only laughing awkwardly when you sat on his lap after muttering a small “hey,” which you returned just as awkwardly.

And little did you know heeseung was just as uncomfortable, if not more uncomfortable than you.

“Really, heeseung, can you just hold it? We’re almost there,” Jay piped up from the driver's seat.

No.

In fact, heeseung couldn’t hold it well. There was nothing to really hold other than the erection that was about to become very evident to you if he didn’t get a break real soon. “We’re not even almost there yet!” he shouted to the front seat, nearly blowing out your eardrum in the process.

“Be a man and use a bottle 'cause we’re not stopping,” Jay dismissed, and heeseung only groaned behind you.

Heeseung was doing alright for the next ten minutes, but once Jay ran over a bump and your ass brushed against his bulge, he couldn’t help but whimper. “Fuck” he whispered and clutched tightly onto the leather seats.

You were now fully aware of why heeseung wanted to stop and even more aware of what you were feeling under you, and you didn’t know if you should feel disgusted or flattered.

You supposed you were indifferent to the situation, and you tried shifting so you’d be sitting more on his thigh, but that seemed to make it worse as he squeezed your waist to hold you in place. “Please just stop moving,” he breathed out and rested his forehead on your back. “Shit, y/n, I’m sorry” He lowered his head in embarrassment. “Can we please take a break?” He spoke up, and Jay mumbled out a curse, finally pulling off at a gas station a few minutes out, although it was too late now that heeseung had already humiliated himself in front of you.

Heeseung practically threw you off his lap and hurried off to the restroom.

It was one outside the gas station around the back, and it was more than janky, but it’d have to do.

At first, he tried to make his erection go down by rinsing his face with cold water and taking deep breaths, even going as far to try and flex certain muscles in his body to make the blood go somewhere else, but no matter what, he could not stop imagining you sitting on top of him and it didn’t help that you had to wear shorts he knew it was like ninety degrees outside so he couldn’t blame you but still.

“Fuck” he moaned when he rubbed over the tent in his basketball shorts.

He quickly dropped them and his underwear on the ground fisting his cock at a fast pace. He had to hurry if he didn’t want anyone getting suspicious of him.

He bit his lip as he swirled his palm over his wet tip. “So fucking good, y/n” He closed his eyes, picturing you without those shorts on, wondering how good it’d feel for you to sit on his lap with nothing on. He’d love watching your perfect ass jiggle while you bounce on his big dick.

He had dreamed about it so many times he couldn’t even count. He knew it was wrong to like you cause you were only friends, but you made that extremely difficult for him, especially today.

He tugged at his balls, squeezing his sack softly while stroking his warm length. “Y/n, please don’t fucking stop” He was full-on fantasizing about you jerking his cock instead, wondering how you’d do it. Would you tease him? Would you do it nice and slow or rough and fast? Just the thought was getting him close. “Feels so good, baby,” he whispered.

Frankly, he wouldn’t care how you did it just as long as you were touching him.

“Hurry up, will you! I gotta go next,” he heard jakes voice outside the door and panicked.

“Shit” He knew if the guys knew what he was doing in here, they’d never let him live it down ever.

He quickly pulled up his shorts, tucking his erection in his waistband and hoping for the best.

“Sorry about that, it’s all yours” heeseung smiled awkwardly at Jake, hoping he wouldn’t notice anything, and to heeseung’s luck, he didn’t.

Now you, on the other hand, that’s a different story.

He avoided all eye contact with you and hopped in the back of the van while you left to buy something, he assumed, but just then, he got an idea. “Can I sit up front? I can give directions.”

“No!” They all said in unison, and he couldn’t help but wonder why all the guys were being such ass hats today. Just his luck.

But he did also get them lost when he was in control of the navigation on their road trip last year, so he supposed they had a right to respond that way.

Once you came out of the gas station, you made your way to the back, and heeseung peered out the window as if the scenery was just that beautiful, which it wasn’t. It was literally a dead-end gas station with flickering lights. You figured he must have just been embarrassed, but you understood it wasn’t intentional, and that just happens sometimes, and you didn’t judge him for it.

You sat on his lap once more, and Jay hit the road again. “Would you like some?” You offered him a drink of your ice-cold water, and if he’s being truthful, his body felt like it was on fire right now, partly cause you were sitting on his lap and the burning weather outside, so he accepted your offer.

“Thanks,” he whispers and drinks at least half the bottle in one go.

“I’m not disgusted by you or anything if that makes you feel any better,” you whisper to him, and you feel him tense up.

That definitely made him feel better, but it was still embarrassing for him.

You leaned back slightly, and you’re not sure if he had gotten hard again or he was still hard from earlier. You thought that’s why he went to the restroom to relieve himself. “Are you feeling any better?” you could only hope it didn’t make him more uncomfortable, but you just didn’t want him suffering for the next fifty minutes.

“Do you actually want to know the answer to that?” He whispers close to your ear so no one else would hear as his warm breath fans lightly across your face making you feel a shiver run up your spine.

“Yes,” you reply back in a whisper.

“No,” he replied honestly, and at this point, he’s been so hard for so long that it almost felt painful.

“I can help if you want?” You said boldly and pushed up against him a little, giving him a hint in case he didn’t know what you meant already.

You and heeseung were friends, yes, but that never once stopped you from thinking he was an attractive guy, and who cares? You were all on vacation to act crazy, party, and have fun, so why not start the fun right now?

Heeseung could have sworn he misheard, but he definitely saw the way you backed your ass up and pressed it on his aching length. “N-no, we’re almost there. I can take care of it later,” he politely declines.

You knew he was just being nice, but you really didn’t mind, and you can’t lie feeling his thick cock beneath your ass was turning you on, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t soaking wet right now. “Sure?” You gripped his knee and rotated your hips on his crotch teasingly, and he said fuck it and gave in.

He squeezed your hip with his right hand guiding you back and forth on his lap, groaning softly in your ear when your clothed ass brushed over his tip.

He grabbed your waist with his other hand pushing you down on his cock. You put your hands over his stopping his movement, and he was hesitant to do anything further in case he was making you uncomfortable. “Sorry, did I do something wrong?” You didn’t say anything. You lifted your hips and shimmied out of your shorts and underwear, and he gasped at the sight, watching a thick string of your arousal sticking to your thigh. though the sight was extremely hot to him, he didn’t want his friends to see you naked. “Are you crazy?” He whisper, yelled, and tried to cover your body with his hands. He looked around and thanked the stars that Sunghoon had fallen asleep beside him. Jake, his girlfriend, and Jungwon were too immersed in their game to care, and Jay was focused on driving while Sunoo was in the front seat giving directions which gave you and heeseung the green light.

“Relax,” you giggled and tugged at his shorts.

“Fuck okay,” he breathed out once he deemed it to be safe plus, nightfall had come already, so even if anyone did wake up, he could discreetly cover you and himself before anyone saw anything.

He pulled down his shorts, and you looked behind you while biting on your lip, looking at his huge dick resting on his abdomen.

You sat back down on his lap, dragging your pussy over his cock getting it nice and slippery so he could enter you with ease. “God baby, you’re so wet,” he mumbled in your ear groggily, already in a daze-like state from feeling your warm pussy gliding on his length. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one turned on.

He pushed his cock down at the base, sticking it between your legs, making it easier for you to grind on it. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah? You like that, huh?” He gripped your waist, now controlling the movement of your hips. “You gonna let me stick it in that pussy, baby? Wanna feel this big dick inside you? Hmm?” He kissed your neck sloppily while squeezing your hips.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, nearly moaning when you felt his tip poking at your quivering hole.

“Ooh, so polite” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice. “You know just how to get what you want, huh, baby?” He nibbled your ear and bucked his hips up, pushing his cock past your tight entrance.

You had to cover your mouth to muffle your moan as you felt him stretching out your tight walls. You were thankful that he started out slow and let you adjust first cause he was huge. He slowly thrust in and out inch by inch until you could take all of it. He bit down on your shoulder softly and took a deep breath while he bottomed out. “You feel so good,” he moaned out after finally getting the relief he’s been needing for the past hour.

“You do, too” You swirled your hips while placing your hands on his knees to get a good angle to ride him. “Mmph,” you moaned.

“There you go,” he whispered, mesmerized by how you were swaying your hips in such a small space so effortlessly. “Just like that” He pulled his shirt up so he could watch his cock getting buried in your little cunt each time you moved back and forth on him.

He reached around you slipping his hands underneath your shirt to massage your tits, cupping them in his large warm hands and squeezing on them occasionally, not too rough but just right.

“Fuck heeseung,” he chuckled lowly in your ear.

“Like that? Having your tight little pussy filled with daddy’s dick?” Heeseung definitely made his dirty jokes here and there, but this was a whole new side of him you had never seen before. The filthy words coming from his mouth just made you wetter by the second.

“Mmh yes, Daddy,” he snuck a hand inside your bra, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers while he kissed on your neck.

“Shit, baby, you’re taking my dick so well” His comment made you clench down on his dick, squeezing your walls involuntarily. “Bounce on it,” he commands in a hushed voice, and you immediately obey, bouncing up and down on his cock just the way he ordered you to.

He breathily moaned in your ear, making you tighten your walls around him yet again. “S-so full” You could literally feel his dick everywhere inside you. The thickness brushing against your wet aching walls was absolute heaven.

“All for daddy’s girl” He dropped his right hand from your chest, cupping your mound with his palm before using his two fingers to massage your little swollen clit.

You threw your head back on his shoulder as he tugged at your sensitive nub.

“Gonna be good and let daddy breed his girl? Come on, baby, let Daddy fill you up. I know your little pussy wants it” He matched your pace when he felt your legs giving out, and he started bucking his hips into you, helping you ride him.

Luckily Jay had the radio on, and the quiet sounds of your guys' sweaty skin clapping against each other were drowned out.

“Yes, Daddy cum in me, please” You chewed on your lip, quieting your moans in the stifling van.

“Cum with Daddy, okay?” He said hurriedly, feeling high coming up on him.

“Hee- heeseung, I’m coming,” you breathed out.

“Oh god,” he grunted out. “Me too, y/n me t-too,” He spoke softly in your ear, and you felt his cock stiffen even more while he fucked into you and eventually spilled his seed inside you.

“Shit,” your squeak of a moan fell from your lips as he rubbed your clit in fast circles tipping you over the edge at the same time as him while his cock continued to ruin your spent pussy.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” heeseung panted heavily in your ear as you felt his cock throbbing inside you and his warm ropes of cum staining your walls.

He didn’t think it was possible for an orgasm to feel so good, and to make it even better, your pussy just kept clenching on him nonstop, milking his dick for everything he had to give, which was a lot given the fact he hadn’t came in awhile.

“Fuck your cum into me, Daddy. Please, I’ve been a good girl for you,” you begged. Even though you were sensitive, you still needed to feel more of him.

“Fuck my girl is so dirty, such a naughty baby” He fulfilled your downright filthy wish, bucking his hip and fucking his cum back inside your used hole. He swiped his fingers over his length, collecting his release before holding it up to your mouth for you to suck on as he created a creamy mess between your sweaty bodies. “Does Daddy taste good?” You hummed around his fingers, and the lewd sticky sounds in the quietness of the van just made it ten times hotter you felt so dirty but so good at the same time.

Heeseung dared to look down and saw your pussy was nothing but a mess of his and your cum the creamy white ring around his base made him groan in pleasure as your pussy lips stretched around his length, taking everything he was giving to you.

After a few minutes, his cock had begun to soften, and he pulled out of you. You could feel his cum drip from your hole, and you put your hand under the small stream catching it in your palm once it leaked out of you.

You held your hand up to your mouth, licking it clean, refusing to let even a drop of him go to waste. “Such a good fucking girl for Daddy,” he breathed in your ear.

You looked back, smirking at him and showing him the creamy white on your tongue. “Let Daddy have a taste. Wanna have you on my tongue, baby” He gripped your jaw lightly, turning your face to the side so he could kiss you. You both kissed messily, playing with the liquid and passing it back and forth on each other’s tongues until it got lost in your guys' saliva and trickled down your throats. You both gulped each other's fluids down, humming in satisfaction before eventually pulling away.

You both pulled up your shorts and underwear once the post-orgasm clarity had kicked in, and the air was now quiet and peaceful heeseung’s hands fell on your waist. He then offered you some water, and you quietly accepted, swallowing the now room-temperature water.

He traced his hands over your belly, lifting up your crop top just a little to feel more of your skin on his fingertips as he kissed your neck occasionally.

You reached your hand back, tugging him forward by his neck, allowing him to press more wet kisses all over your exposed skin.

You’re not sure who rolled the windows down, but you were both so thankful when the cool breeze hit your warm skin. Both of you released a breath from the relaxing feeling of the chilly night air.

You cupped your other hand over his and ran your fingers through his dusty blonde hair. “We should do this again when we get to the hotel,” he hums against your neck. “Want to?”

“I’d love to,” you whisper, and you can feel him smiling on your skin.

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, to accompany the boys on their road trip.

FIN.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! - 🐹

#lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen lee heeseung smut #heeseung scenarios #smut #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #fanfic #heeseung enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fluff

4K notes · View notes

lysenfeu · 7 months

Text

Rinse & Repeat

Rating: Explicit 18+ Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader Word Count: 1.8k Prompt: Bath/shower

Summary: Frank comes home bloody and filthy from a rough night out and you can't help but clean him up. Content: Mentions of blood, Domestic fluff, Super soft Frank, Smut (F/M), Shower sex, Bareback (no condom), Creampie

A/N: Okay so I'm very new to the Punisher fandom but beefy dudes covered in blood with puppy dog eyes are my ultimate weakness sooo here we are.

[Read on A03] [Kinktober 2023 Masterlist]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frank always tried to be quiet when he was coming home from a job, never wanting to disturb you at the odd hours he found himself stumbling in. He carefully closed the front door and kicked off his boots, stepping down the hall to the living room. He was surprised to see you awake, curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone in the dimly lit room.

“What are you still doin’ up? It’s late.”

You sat up and blinked at the clock display on the device in your hand. He was right, it was very late at night, bordering on the early morning.

“No work tomorrow, wanted to wait up for you.”

You hopped off the couch and padded over to him in your bare feet. All you were wearing was one of Frank’s old T-shirts that barely hit mid-thigh, it was a warm night and you wanted to be comfy. He managed to appreciate the view of your exposed legs for a moment before you stood directly in front of him, looking him over carefully. He was filthy, covered in an assortment of smudges and stains. Gunpowder, grease, blood, dirt and who knows what else. Concern was etched on your face and he caught your gaze raking him over for injuries.

“‘M fine. None of the blood‘s mine.”

You sighed in relief and leaned up to kiss him but he pulled back ever so slightly. "Don't want to mess up that pretty face of yours, darlin'."

You hummed softly in disagreement. "Don't care."

His brow creased slightly but he didn't protest as you leaned in again and he let you press your lips against his. He kissed you gently, sliding an arm around your waist, not being able to resist tugging you in closer. Your chins bumped together and his nose rubbed against your cheek, when you finally pulled away there were smudges of blood and dirt on your face just like he warned.

You truly didn't care, you never minded the mess. That was part of why Frank loved you so much. He brought all this violence and filth home with him and you never flinched away from it. You knew who he was and what he did, and you loved him anyway. You dug bullets out of him with no protest, stitched and patched him up more times than he could count.

The night he came home to you cleaning his vest and touching up the paint on the skull was the moment he knew he could never let you go. He asked you to move in a week later and you'd been here ever since, by his side through thick and thin, taking care of him. He never thought he could feel like this again, so close to someone, after everything he’d been through. But the quiet moments of peace he’d found here with you had given him newfound hope for a future.

Frank was snapped out of his musings when you tugged on his hand.

"Shower time, let's go."

He nodded and let you lead him down the hall and into the bathroom. He stripped off his vest and ruined clothes as you started the water and got the temperature just right. When you were satisfied it was warm enough but not too hot, you pulled off the oversized tee you'd 'borrowed' and led him into the steaming spray with you.

You grabbed a clean washcloth and ran it under the heated stream of water. Turning to Frank, you started with his hands. He might have claimed to be fine but you had noticed the several split knuckles on each hand, giving you at least some indication of how his night had gone. He tensed as you dabbed at the raw skin and you slowed down, trying your best not to irritate the injury.

His eyes slowly fluttered shut as you wiped the damp fabric gently over his skin, the warm stream of water hitting his back combined with your gentle touch lulling him into a state of bliss. He felt all the tension ease out of him as you worked him over with swipes of the cloth, getting lost in the glide of your fingers against his bare skin as you moved all the way up his arms and across his chest.

You rinsed the cloth before getting on your tiptoes to reach up to Frank's face and continue your work. He ducked down closer to give you better access and placed his hands on your hips to steady you. This was your little ritual, every time you caught him coming home all bloodied up. You carefully washed away all of the evidence of the violence that followed him everywhere. He knew he'd never done anything in this life to deserve you, yet here you were. You'd somehow managed to mend his body, and his heart, with your tender, soft touches and endless affection. He waited patiently as you worked, rubbing his thumbs over your hips until the water was running completely clear at his feet.

"All done?"

You inspected him closely, swiping the washcloth one last time over his cheek until you were absolutely certain. "Mhm, all clean now."

"Good."

He stepped forward and crowded into your space, his hands shamelessly digging into your hips and tugging you against him. He leaned down and captured your lips, swallowing the gasp you let out as you felt his hardening cock pressing against your side. A burst of heat rushed through you, pooling between your legs. You’d been too caught up in washing him, you hadn’t paid close enough attention to what your touch was doing to him. He’d let you have your little ritual of taking care of him, but now it was time for him to take care of you.

His large hands slipped along your body, over your waist and down your hips, pausing briefly to squeeze your ass before coming to rest on the backs of your thighs. Planting his feet firmly on the bathtub floor, he hoisted you up and pressed you against the shower wall. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, arms flying around his neck to hold yourself up. You arched against him, pressing your tits into his firm chest as the cool tile touched your skin. He buried his face in your shoulder, pressing kisses up and down your neck.

You whined impatiently, needing more as you dragged your nails across his shoulders and back. He let out a low chuckle before looking into your eyes.

“Somethin’ you want, sweetheart?”

You huffed and pouted at him. “You know what I want!”

He laughed at you again, enjoying your big pleading stare and petulant expression. He leaned in close, gently bumping your nose with his. “Remind me.”

“Fraaank…”

“Come on, use your words.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared him down.

“Fuck me, now.”

A satisfied grin split across Frank’s face at your demanding tone. “Attagirl.”

He pressed you harder into the wall, holding you steady while he lined up his now-fully hard cock at your entrance.

“Ready for me?”

You smiled sweetly, placated now that you were getting what you wanted. “Always.”

He slid inside slowly, letting you feel every single inch of him as he stretched you open. After a few moments, you’d adjusted to his size and wanted more.

“Harder, please.” You whispered in his ear before peppering kisses all over his cheek and jaw.

You didn’t need to ask him twice. Your dug your nails into his biceps as you did your best to hold on, helpless to do anything but accept the rapid, punishing pace of his hips snapping into yours. God, he always filled you impossibly deep, it was so easy to lose yourself in the steady rhythm of his body as he thrust harder and harder. A loud moan was forced out of your throat as Frank hit that sweet spot deep inside you and you couldn’t help but clench around him. He groaned into your shoulder, moving to nip along your neck as he refused to slow down. Your thighs started to shake around him as you lost yourself in the waves of pleasure, not able to hold back the whimpers any longer.

Having you like this, coming completely undone in his arms, this was what he lived for. Thinking of you waiting at home for him had gotten him through more nights than he’d care to admit. He’d fight and kill whoever he had to in order to make it back to you in one piece, knowing he could scoop you up and make you fall apart under him.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Just let go.”

He held you tight, pressing you hard against the shower wall as you finally tipped over the edge and screamed for him. He couldn’t hold out much longer, with your soaking pussy pulsing around his cock. After a few more haphazard pumps and he finally spilled inside you, his mind going blank for that blissful moment where he was surrounded by nothing but you.

He slowly eased you back down to the floor, making sure you were steady on your feet before letting go. He grabbed a clean washcloth and set about cleaning you up, the mirrored action of reciprocity not lost on either of you. Turning off the water, Frank stepped out first, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist before waiting for you to follow. He held out your favourite towel, the biggest and fuffiest one you owned. You giggled as he bundled you up, turning you into a plush cotton cloud. He started heading towards the bedroom but you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him around to face you.

“Where do you think you’re going, mister? I have to wrap those knuckles before bed.”

Frank groaned and started to roll his eyes. “It’s nothin’, you don’t hav-”

He was cut off by your insistent tug on his hand and perfectly played pout. He groaned again, making a face but quietly presenting you with his hands nonetheless. You hummed in satisfaction and set about quickly wrapping clean bandages around the reddened, raw skin. Once you were finished, you slowly brought each hand up to your lips, one after the other, placing a small kiss over each and every bandaged knuckle before looking up with a small satisfied smile on your face.

“How’s that?”

He spent a long moment simply staring at you, fully absorbed in drinking you in, basking in the pure, unfiltered love practically radiating out of you. He bent down to kiss you softly, relishing in your warmth, before finally answering.

“Never been better.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: This got sappy as hell and I am not sorry about it. Please let me know what you think!

#lysenfeu fics #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfic #kinktober 2023

800 notes · View notes

koshkamartell · 3 months

Text

No One But Me

masterlist

You can't be sure what time it is when you awake from the slumber of the night before. The morning sun peaks through the curtains in your bedroom, beams of bright light streaming across your floor.

You are laying on your side and there is a throbbing in your head. You try to lift it off the pillow and are immediately struck by the heaviness of it, as if there is a weight inside your skull. You open your eyes and blink away the sleep crusted along your lash line and a bolt of pain shoots up the side of your face. You wince. Your whole face feels tender.

Then you are hit with the memory of Joel's hands all over you, the cruel violence his body inflicted upon yours. It comes flooding back to you in an abrupt wave of terror, causing your breathing to hitch.

Is he here right now?

You cannot feel the burning warmth of his body beside you or the weight of his limbs ontop of your own. Holding your breath inside your lungs, your pulse quickening rapidly, you very slowly roll your head to face behind you.

But his side of the bed is empty. You're alone.

You exhale a long breath of relief. You really cannot handle seeing Joel right now, not until you properly assess whatever damage he has caused, not until your brain can piece together just what had happened. You debate whether to stay laying in bed to rest or to brave the confrontation of whatever happened last night when you rise. With every progressing minute you become more cognisant of the injuries inflicted on your body, your mind becoming aware of all the different parts of you that throb.

You eventually decide to get up and go to the bathroom.

It takes you several minutes to sit up at the edge of the mattress and attempt to walk. As soon as you stand a gush of semen spills from between your thighs and runs down your legs. You spy the dress you wore last night crumpled on the floor, and you pick it up to clean yourself with before the evidence of Joel's rampage drips onto the floor. You clench your teeth and hiss at the burning sting when you move your legs - you must be torn.

You enter the bathroom, steeling yourself before peeking into the mirror. You aren't prepared for the reflection that confronts you, how the bruises correspond accordingly to each and every painful pulsation that you feel.

The ache of the right side of your temple and the left apple of your cheek are reflected by a smattering of purple bruises. Faint red imprints in the shape of fingertips on your face. Your bottom lip stings from where it is split at the corner of your mouth, a smear of dried blood blooming around it. Your hair is knotted and messy atop your sensitive scalp. Nasty purple bruises cup your sore kneecaps.

You assess yourself with clinical detachment, almost as if you have disconnected from your physical self once more. It is impossible for you to think coherently about what your body had suffered through; piecing together the events of the previous nights would have to wait. All you want to do is shower and rid yourself of the invisible grime and smells that cling to your skin.

You start the shower and spend the next ten minutes scrubbing every inch of your body with the lemon myrtle scented soap you splurged on at one of the boutiques in town. You lather yourself generously with the bar and rinse off under the steady stream of warm water, then repeat it all once more. You scrub at your skin harshly, desperate to shed the filth you swear you can feel itching you.

Your hands roam between your thighs and gently wash your vulva with the warm water. You aren't brave enough to look down there just yet but the swelling around the entrance to your vagina tells you enough. You are equally tender when you wash your hair, trying to avoid irritating your scalp even more.

Ten minutes later you are sitting on the bed with your legs extended, wearing a sweater and underwear, your wet hair wrapped in a towel. In an attempt to distract yourself you have started reading the book that was sat on your nightstand, one of several novels on your to read list. You are about to turn the page when you hear the sound of foot steps in your hallway. You freeze at the sound, the familiar feeling of panic seizing your insides.

Joel strides into your bedroom, dressed and wearing his boots, seemingly ready for the day. He's holding a mug in his hand. When you see it is him you quickly lower your head and fix your eyes to the book in your hands, hoping to God that he can't hear the pounding of your heart. You can't bear to look at his face, to see whatever emotion is projecting from his dark brown eyes.

He clears his throat and speaks your name quietly, his voice gravelly but gentle. You don't respond or even move an inch to indicate you have heard him.

"Made ya a cup of your green tea," Joel murmers.

The floorboards creak softly under his heavy footsteps as he sets the mug of tea down on your nightstand. The gesture astounds you - he has never made you tea before - but you remain still, as if you cannot hear him. Truthfully, you are scared stiff by his presence.

Why is he being so nice?

You hate yourself for the tears that begin to pool in your eyes, blurring your vision and obscuring the letters on the page infront of you. The springs in the mattress squeak as Joel sits at the end of your bed with a small sigh.

On impulse you bend your knees and pull your legs back, but Joel wraps his hand around on of your ankles and tugs it back towards him. His touch isn't aggressive or forceful but it startles you, causing a brief jolt of fear to rip through your body. He guides your foot to sit on his lap and he begins rubbing your heel in tender circles with his thumb.

"Darlin'," Joel sighs. "Are you okay?"

No, Joel. How could I possibly be okay after what you did?

You remain silent. The tears break free from your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. Your fingers are trembling; you curl them tightly over the corners of the book.

You wonder if he actually cares whether or not you are okay. What is going on with this uncharacteristic gesture of kindness, making you tea and asking if you're okay? Can he sense how broken you are, just how far he crossed over the line, how irreparable the damage is that he caused?

Your nose starts to drip along with the tears that wet your face. You sniff and wipe your nose with the cuff of your sleeve.

"No, I'm not okay," you whisper.

Joel sighs and runs his hand over his face. "Look, I already told Ellie that you're sick and you'll need a few days off work. She's gonna tell Tommy."

It is then that you look up at him with an incredulous expression. "What?"

Joel's eyes look solemn and weary as he stares back at you, his brows knitted together. Why does he look so sad?

"Til the bruises heal." He explains quietly. "Won't be more than a couple days."

You can't stifle the sob that claws up your throat. Oh. Right. That makes sense. How on earth could you explain your face without telling the truth? There's no plausible excuse for the marks on you.

You drop your book onto the mattress and look down at your lap. Your tears flow freely now, the pain of betrayl and your broken heart too profound to suppress. You are sure you look pitiful and weak but you don't care. You drag your sleeve over your face and your snotty nose.

"Look," Joel began in a serious tone. "I know I went hard on ya last night, maybe hurt ya worse than I was supposed to." His thumb rubs along the heel of your foot gently, almost like a supplication for you to understand his perspective. "But when you disrespect me you break my rules. That's why I gotta discipline you, otherwise how is this supposed to work?"

You shake your head a little, wanting to show your disagreement but the throbbing in your head is getting worse. "But I didn't do anything wrong," you whisper, a small part of you hoping your words don't come across as defiant.

"Babydoll," Joel says sternly. "Look at me. Now."

The authority in his voice is unsettling enough to make you look back up at him.

"You're my woman," he states plainly. "I ain't sharin' you with anyone else. And I don't want any other man lookin' at you the way I saw 'em last night. They see you actin' wild with those girls and think you don't got a man takin' care of you, that maybe you're askin' for somethin'. So you behavin' that way disrespects me."

You don't have enough experience with men to know if what Joel says is true. Do men really think that way?

"You gotta trust me, baby girl. Men like that see a pretty girl like you and they'll do whatever it takes to get a taste." Joel speaks earnestly. "I've seen what these men can do to a woman first hand. If anything like that happened to you...." Joel sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I gotta protect you from that."

You watch the almost mournful arrangement of Joel's facial features, the slightly pained regret and sorrow in his brown eyes. He looks so soft this like, when a glimpse of his inner sensitive side appeared. This is the Joel you love. Maybe he really is just trying to protect you

"I don't like it when you get so angry," you whisper, looking down at your lap. "And you hurt me."

"I know I can get a bit carried away, my amger gets the better of me. But that's because I get so worried about ya," Joel admits solemnly. "I can't lose you, baby. And that's why you gotta listen to me. What I do is for your own good, sugar."

You understand Joel's worries and concerns. You understand how the trauma from losing his daughter would always haunt him, cause him to cling tighter to those he loves. But how are you supposed to have a healthy relationship when Joel hurts you for any perceived threat of losing you?

But you can't bring yourself to argue with him right now. You are confused by his contradictory actions and words, your mind too muddled and tired for you to properly debate him or articulate yourself.

While you are silent Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a folded white envelope. "Now, I want you to take this medicine. It'll help with the pain."

You peek at him from under your brow curiously. He unfolds the envelope and carefully shakes three little white tablets into the palm of his hand.

Did he really trek to the pharmacy in town just for you, because he knew you would be in pain?

Joel takes two of the tablets and holds them out to you, motioning with a nod for you to take them.

"Take 'em now." Joel commands you quietly.

Your head feels heavy and pounding once again. If these are pain killers, you would happily devour them to rid yourself of this misery. You concede to Joel's wishes and slowly reach over to accept them in your own hand. You then obediantly pop the mecidine in your mouth and swallow them down with a big gulp of green tea.

Joel watches you intently. "Good girl," he murmers. "One more."

He holds the last tablet in his outstretched palm for you to retrieve. It is smaller than the others, with some kind of letter or number embossed on its face. You don't bother studying it. You swallow it, encouraged by Joel's hand stroking along your ankle. You don't know just why his touch feels so soothing, or how your guard has slipped enough for you to even accept his hand on your skin without flinching, but it feels good. You and Joel stay like this for some time and it isn't long before you're on the verge of being lulled to sleep.

Joel stops his ministrations when you yawn and rub your eye with your fist. He gives your shin an affectionate pat and then shifts your leg from his lap.

"I gotta get to work." He tells you. "I'll be back later. Stay in bed and rest."

Joel stands up from the bed with a groan, his knees creaking as he straightens up. He comes to stand beside you and places his calloused fingertips under your chin.

"Listen to me, sugar." He tilts your head up slowly, forcing you to look at him.

"You aren't to answer the door if anybody knocks. Don't matter who it is, you are to stay put in this room." Joel instructs you matter of factly, a stern edge to his voice. "I'll be the only one comin' and goin'. I'll be back when patrol is finished."

"Okay," you answer quietly.

"When you're feelin' better.and back to work, there'll be some rules. Now, our business is our business, you hear me?"

You nod, but Joel isn't satisfied with your muted response. He shakes his head and frowns down at you.

"Repeat it.' He commands softly.

"Our business is our business," you whisper back.

"And you ain't goin' to tell anybody about this...disagreement...we had. Unless you need a reminder about what can happen when you don't listen."

Joel is calm as he speaks, almost gentle in his tone, but the underlying warning in his words is unmistakable. He could easily hurt you if he wants to, for whatever reason he sees fit. After what he put you through last night you are petrified at the prospect of further discipline carried out by Joel.

"I won't tell anyone." You mumble, your eyes glassy with tears once again.

"We're gonna move past this, be a happy life. And I'll take care of you, babydoll."

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead, the hair of his moustache tickling along your brow.

"You rest now. I'll see you later."

Joel turns and stalks out of the bedroom. You listen to the heavy footsteps of his boots as he walks away, the slam of the front door, the forboding clink of your key turning in its lock. Then you bury your head in your pillow and fall asleep.

You fall in and out of sleep throughout the day, succumbing to the fatigue that has followed the trauma you have endured over the past 15 or so hours. The pain had subsided considerably thanks to the tablets Joel gave you.

Sometime in the afternoon you lay awake, curled under your blanket and reading your book when there comes a loud knock at your front door.

Oh no. Who could that be?

You strain to hear any further noise from outside. It must be Kate, or maybe Ellie, you guess. But you can't risk them catching sight of you in this condition.

There's silence for a few beats, then another succession of knocks. You hear your name being called, but can't quite make out whose voice is speaking. Gingerly, you slip out of bed and pad out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You creep over to the front door when the voice speaks again, almost pleading in its timbre.

"Please open up, it's Oscar."

Your hand shoots up to your lips to instinctively stifle your gasp. Oscar? Why on earth is he here, outside your cottage?

"Please, I need to see you." He calls, softer now.

Oh, Oscar. I want to see you too. But not like this.

You slink to the door and press your forehead against the wood. You clear your dry throat nervously before speaking. "Oscar, I'm here."

••••••

Oscar presses his forehead against your door and sighs with something that sounds like relief at hearing your soft voice speak his name. He whispers your name with tender reverence.

"Are you okay? I went to the school and they said you were sick today."

There's a pause on the other side of the door. He's about to ask if you're still there when you reply.

"I'm okay, just a bit sick with a cold."

Oscar closes his eyes and turns his head so that his ear is leaning against the wood. "Can I please see you?"

He needs to see you. He needs to tell you how much you mean to him in your life, in whatever way he can have you. But not through barrier like this door. He needs to stand before you for you to look into his eyes and witness his sincerity.

"Not right now," you whisper. There's a tiny tremble in your voice.

Oscar slumps against the door dejectedly. He doesn't want to push you or pressure you in any way, especially when you're sick.

"But when I'm better, yes, ofcourse." He hears you amend. "In a couple of days. At the library."

Oscar flattens his palm against the wood, wishing you could sense his yearning. "Okay," he says. "Can I get you something, some food, or medicine?"

You decline his offer. He feels helpless, hates that he can't do anything for you when you're unwell. But ultimately he accepts your answer and says goodbye, telling you he will see you again in a few days.

He isn't able to hear your muffled cries when he walks away from your porch and onto the street.

The next two days follow the same routine. Joel returns to your cottage in the evening after his patrol shift. He brings you sandwiches, fruit, jerky and soup to eat. You have little appetite but manage to take a few bites and spoonfuls of food to keep up your strength.

Joel doesn't attempt to make awkward conversation but he does linger around the bedroom, as if he wants to remain close to you but doesn't want to impose on your space.

In truth, Joel doesn't want to be apart from you for even a second. He wants to stay close to you as much as he can. But he knows you are scared.

Joel knows he has frightened you. He knows he's hurt you. He knows he has damaged you in ways that he could never fully understand. He was only able to even acknowledge the possibility that he went too far when he saw your face the next morning. When he woke up he saw you laying next to him in bed, your eyebrows were pulled into a faint frown as you slept, as if you were in pain or having an unpleasant dream. When he registered the bruises and marks across your features, the aftermath of his rage, his heart dropped.

It was the first time Joel Miller had felt some semblance of guilt for the suffering of someone at his hands. It was like a knife twisting in his guts. He doesn't regret confronting you or reiterating your position in his life, but he knows he went too far. He knows he made you suffer more than necessary, and he feels guilt for that. And shame.

There had been times in this world, mainly as a raider, when Joel had murdered innocent people just to inflict senseless pain onto someone else. He never felt remorse for his actions, justifying them to himself and Tommy that it was imperative for their survival.

It was only at this point in his life that Joel had felt some kind of guilt for the suffering of another. He had believed himself to be incapable of emotion towards anyone else besides Tommy and Ellie. But now here he was, struggling with so many different feelings for a woman so much younger than himself, simply elicited by the raw sight of your wounded face.

You are so beautiful and so pure.

Joel hates himself. He thinks of Ellie and her reaction if she saw you and found out the truth, the real cause of your injuries. She would come to hate him, too, then demand that you leave him. The thought engulfs him with dread and dismay.

Joel knows he isn't able to verbalise what he's thinking. He cannot tell you he is sorry, that he loves you, that it'll never happen again. So he tries to show you his apology in different ways. He consciously tries to be more attentive than he has ever been before. He is gentle and mindful in the little tokens of affection he bestows upon you; featherlight strokes of your cheek with his thumb, trails of sweet kisses along your shoulder blade, his fingers slowly tucking lose strands of hair behind your ear.

He spoons you each night with his arm securely encircled around your waist. He nuzzles his nose into your sweet smelling hair and whispers goodnight baby into your ear and then you both fall to sleep snuggled together.

Whenever you have a bad dream Joel's right there beside you to cradle you in his arms and soothe you back to a peaceful slumber, coaxing you with ssshhhs and his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

Joel resists the urge to fuck you until the third consecutive night of him sleeping at your home. In the still and quiet of the late night hour, Joel is aroused from sleep by the throbbing of his hard cock. He can't restrain himself from rutting his crotch against your ass, and when you moan softly in your sleep, he feels emboldened enough to slip his hand down the front of your pyjama shorts. He lightly rubs your clit through your panties with his thick fingers while grinding his hips into yours.

It doesn't take long for your pussy to become wet and soak through the material. A groan of desire rumbles in Joel's throat and he sucks at the side of your neck. You whimper and moan and slowly stir from sleep as your orgasm builds, your body unable to deny the power Joel holds over it when he pleasures you so expertly. Joel continues to rub tight delicious circles over your clit until your climax hits you and your body quivers and you gasp breathlessly. He places soft kisses all along the column of your throat while he coaxes you through your orgasm.

When your tired body slumps back into his chest Joel yanks down your shorts and underwear and pushes them off your legs. He takes his cock out from his underwear and presses it in the space between your ass and your inner thighs.

"I need you, babydoll," Joel grunts into your ear.

You arch your back and tilt your hips wordlessly. Joel slips his arm underneath your knee and hikes your leg up to spread you open, then pushes the head of his cock into the tight heat of your wet pussy. He fucks you in a slow and deep rhythm so that every roll of his hips makes his cock touch your g spot. The sound of your sweet moans and the squelching of your pussy around him intensifies Joel's own pleasure.

He rocks his hips and fucks you faster, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with each thurst. But Joel's movements are not frenzied or rough as he chases his own orgasm; he is more reserved than usual, as if he is being careful not to hurt you.

When he is about to cum he swiftly withdraws from you and jerks his cock against your lower back, and then shoots his hot semen onto the flesh of your ass cheek. When Joel has recovered from his climax he goes to the bathroom and returns with a wet towel to clean you up. It is the first time he has ever done this on his own accord.

You soon fall back to sleep cuddled in Joel's embrace exhausted and satisfied. It is only when Joel can determine for sure that you are properly asleep that he whispers "I love you."

After three days of resting in bed and waiting for your face and body to heal, you return to work. Joel patiently helps you dress.

"You look perfect, sugar. Pretty as ever." He purrs in your ear.

He places a soft kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your upper arms. You cannot help but lean against his chest a little to savour the distinct scent of sandalwood and his skin. Just before you leave Joel sneaks out of the back door to go to his patrol shift.

You depart and begin walking to the library with a niggling sense of apprehension and anxiety digging inside your stomach. You feel conspicuous being outside the quiet refuge of your home, as if you are parading around naked in public. You try to squash it down and assure yourself that it is a short distance to your destination, but by the time you turn into the main street and see the library you are almost completely overwhelmed.

You are so relieved to reach the library and so eager to enter into somewhere quiet and safe that your hands are shaking as you fumble to retrieve the keys from your pocket. You drop them twice, cursing under your breath, before successfully unlocking the door. You hurry inside and slam the door shut, not sure why exactly your heart is pounding so loud in your ears.

You shut your eyes and try to regulate your breathing with deep, slow inhales through your nose and exhales out of your mouth. It takes roughly five minutes for you to fully compose yourself and for the panic to subside. You chide yourself for being so weak. You are just feeling a little fragile right now, that's all. It's just something you will just have to get over.

You don't consider the reasons why you feel so vulnerable; your brain is still switched into survival mode and you are somewhat still in a state of dissociation. Instead, you just resolve to be productive and you get to work.

You potter around the library doing small jobs. Although your bruises are almost completely faded you don't want to interact with anyone at all, and fortunately you are granted the solace you need when no one visits the library.

Until just after the clock strikes noon.

You know your luck will run out eventually and you will have to somehow muster the energy to socialise with another person. When the chime above the door finally tinkles, you inwardly cringe and do your best to conjure a smile on your face.

When you walk out from the book shelves to see who is there, you gasp and freeze in the spot.

It is Oscar.

He immediately perceives your alarm and hastily comes to a halt by the counter. He holds his palms outward like you are a frightened animal, trying to convey that he means no harm. He frowns and his eyes show concern and worry.

"Are you alright?" He asks tentatively.

You stand still and stare at him. His presence has caught you so off guard that you are robbed of speech and are incapable of articulating yourself.

No, Oscar, I'm not alright, you wish to say.

Why has Oscar disarmed you so profoundly? Why are you so affected by seeing him?

But you know why, even if you could never quite comprehend it, even though you have never been able to acknowledge it before this moment.

He's your safe place, the only man who has ever made you feel respected, worthy, appreciated. Because you knew that if you needed him, he would come to your rescue straight away. Because he possesses so many attributes that you desire in a friend and a lover; qualities that you wish Joel had.

But you are so unworthy of him.

The realisation hits you so hard that you become breathless and dizzy and have to grip onto a book shelf for stability. Panic seizes your lungs and your heart and your eyes go wide and glassy. You are no longer disconnected and your brain is no longer tuned to static.

Joel raped me.

A ragged sob escapes your throat, tortured and sorrowful.

Oscar rushes over to you. "Hey hey," he whispers, "what is it, what's wrong?"

You shake your head tightly, lips pressed together as the tears ran down your cheeks. You could never admit the truth to Oscar.

You hate yourself for being so weak and emotional, for breaking down infront of him. You can't bear to meet his concerned gaze. You sink down to the ground and hug your knees into your chest. Oscar drops to his knees beside you immediately.

"Are you hurt?" He asks gently. His brown eyes scan over your frame in search of any sign of injury.

You shake your head once more and a sob hitches in your throat. Oscar was so close to you now that his knees were touching your legs.

"What is it?" He whispers desperately, frowning.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper. It was like you couldn't speak at all, no longer had the ability to verbalise your thoughts and emotions in any way, the ball of despair in your throat too cloying to communicate through. Tears run down your cheeks and drip down your chin.

"It's okay, honey," Oscar cooes. "You're okay, I'm right here with you."

You begin to cry harder, your body wracking with sobs. Oscar places one of his hands up to rest on the space between your shoulder blades and starts to rub soothing circles over your back. His other hand reaches down to clasp one of yours. His skin is smooth and warm.

"Let it all out, I've got you." He whispers. "I got you, honey."

And so you do. You weep openly, the dam of suppressed emotions breaking free and pouring out of you.

After what feels like ages, you gradually relax and allow him to comfort you, surrendering to his peaceful presence. Your sobs become small hitches that eventually die down and turn into sniffles. He stays by your side the whole time, continuously rubbing your back with his gentle, warm palm.

"You don't have to tell me," Oscar confides. "But I'll always be here, whenever you're ready."

I am ready, you think to yourself. I'm ready to leave.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #the last of us #dddne

84 notes · View notes

fatale-distraction · 4 months

Note

Kar’niss x Tav... Tav helps Kar'niss clean himself up after taking him in?

Not sure if this turned out how you were expecting, dearest Anon, but here’s a thing!

~~~

"Hold still, now," Qilue murmured, dabbing carefully at the drider's temple with a damp cloth. Kar'niss had settled himself near the fire pit, legs folded beneath him obediently while his newest mistress scrubbed at his face with a gentility he had become so unaccustomed to, his shattered mind couldn't recall the last time someone had treated him with such tender care. He had thought The Absolute had been good to him, rewarded his devotion with such generosity. It was nothing compared to this new mistress, her touch feather light and full of love. Even as the drider peered with mixed suspicion and curiousity around the camp, a purr began to rumble in his chest, accompanied by the occasional anxious chitter over his new surroundings. Water sloshed in the bucket at Qilue's side as she rinsed the rag and squeezed it out. Kar'niss winced away when she swept it around his primary eyes and moved on to the secondary ones dotting the left side of his face. Her touch remained gentle while she murmured comforting words in a low voice and continued scrubbing the filth from his mottled skin. She moved to the jagged scarring that split his face, blood boiling as she tried not to remember the circumstances behind it, the vicious snake-headed whip that had flayed skin and muscle to the bone.

"How long do you think it's going to take you with that little scrap?"

"Shut up, Astarion."

"Excuse me, I am asking a genuine question," the vampire scoffed. "Wouldn't it be easier to just have Gale soak him?"

Gale glanced up from his book. "I'm sorry," he quipped. "You may be curious about what an angry, soaking wet, mentally unstable drider tearing through our camp would look like, but I am not."

Kar'niss hissed and both men snapped their mouths shut. Qilue barely restrained a smirk as she washed behind his ears. "Behave yourself, my love," she instructed fondly.

The drider shrank. "Forgive us, mistress," he babbled. "We are loyal, and she is kind, we will behave."

The drow woman pet his lank white hair and whispered to him in a soothing tone. "Ssh, Kar'niss. I'm not your mistress," she reminded him. "Don't be afraid, you won't be punished. Just be nice."

His trembling eased as he stared with trepidation at the curious woman. "No punishment?"

"No punishment," she assured him, wiping down his neck. Dirt and grime flaked away from the chitin, and it began to take on a dull shine as she scrubbed. Kar'niss let his eyes drift shut. It felt so good; the abrasive cloth and her gentle touch cleaning away months of misery and leaving behind raw skin and gleaming carapace. The purr returned and tentatively he bowed his forehead to hers.

"Thank you, mistress," he said in an awed whisper. "We do not deserve your kindness, your mercy."

"I'm not your mistress," Qilue reminded him again, smiling as she attempted to continue her scrubbing with his forehead pressed to hers. "And kindness is always deserved. It is not something that needs to be earned."

"Yes, my queen."

"No."

"Savior?”

"Try again."

His eyes flickered open and considered her with confusion. "But then, what shall we call you, my lady?"

"My name," she insisted. "Qilue."

A shudder ran through his body. Moonlight. Yes. It had frightened him at first, that bright orb floating in the sky, surrounded by knife-points of glittering stars, but he had quickly grown to love it. The moon was good to him, it was kind. It lit the way in the dark and scattered the shadows. "My light," he gasped in a hoarse, pained whine.

The rag dropped from Qilue's fingers to land on the ground with a wet slap. Hope shone in her eyes and she clutched his clawed hands to her chest.

"Yes!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Yes, Kar'niss, that's what you used to call me! Do you remember?"

"No!" he wailed, clutching his head with sharp claws and staggering back, his body quaking. "No, there was no one. NO ONE. There was only the Absolute, only the Spider Bitch before her. No one else. No light, no light..."

The companions' hands went to their weapons, but they held their positions at a panicked signal from their leader.

"Ssh, darling, it's alright," she murmured, approaching the shaking drider with a soft step. "Come back to me. You're safe."

"We are NEVER safe," he snarled, lips peeling back to reveal his glinting fangs. "The things in the darkness are always there, watching, waiting, HUNGERING."

A pale, bluish light flickered to life in Qilue's palm. The bard murmured a simple, soothing song for his ears alone. The tune was one she had written for him, long ago, to fit the words of his favorite poem. The effect was startingly instantaneous. His breathing slowed, all of his eyes swivelling toward her with an intent, watery gaze. He lowered his hands from his face, pin-pricks of blood left behind from his claws. The companions relaxed slightly as he quieted, lowering his body back toward the ground, entranced by the song and the light.

"Moonlight," he murmured again, broken voice choked with tears. "That was her name, Moonlight...she was my light--MY light, and she was good and she was kind...and they took her away and they broke her and they HURT her--"

Qilue shushed him again, gently gathering him into her arms. "She's okay, Kar'niss. She's alright now. Try to remember her face," she urged, taking his face in her hands and focusing his frantically wandering attention on her face. "Remember my face, my love."

It took several minutes of coaxing to calm the drider enough to resume his bath, her attempts to trigger his memories of her fruitless. Qilue's companions awkwardly relaxed their grips on their weapons and resumed their rest, each trying to pretend they hadn't heard Kar'niss' words. Astarion stormed away from the camp after a few moments, snatching up the moon lantern and muttering in a dark rage that he needed to feed. If anyone heard an agonized scream in the dark, cut off with a sudden, wet squelch, they pretended not to hear that as well. Qilue continued her work, intentionally oblivious, humming her little song every time Kar'niss began to tremble and fret again.

Before long, Minthara emerged from the tent she had kicked Halsin out of, bleary-eyed from a deep trance and crunching on a burnt meat-kabob of uncertain origin. She came to an abrupt halt as she came upon the drider-bath-time, eyes shot wide open, half-eaten kabob partially raised to her mouth. She swallowed and lowered the meat.

"There is a drider in our camp,” she rasped.

"Yes," confirmed Qilue, not looking up from her intent polishing of a chitinous shoulder-plate.

"Why is there a drider in our camp."

"His name is Kar'niss."

"WHY is there a DRIDER in our CAMP," enunciated Minthara raggedly.

"He's Qilue's ex-boyfriend," Astarion snapped, stepping back into camp, dragging a badly mangled body behind him and wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. He dropped the blood in front of Kar'niss. "For you, darling. If I'm not allowed to snack on our friends in the middle of the night, neither are you."

All seven of Kar'niss' eyes widened hungrily at the sight and smell of the half-drained corpse, breath quickening. Qilue put her hands on her hips. "I JUST finished washing his face, Astarion!" she complained. "He's going to get blood everywhere all over again!"

"Let the drider eat!" several strangled voices chorused. The young drow sighed and dropped her rag in the bucket.

"Very well. Try not to make a mess, my love..."

Licking his lips, Kar'niss pounced on the body, sinking his teeth in and gulping down the cooling blood with a moan of ecstasy, babbling his gracious thanks until Qilue scolded him for eating with his mouth full. Her friends averted their eyes and tried not to feel sick as he tore into his meal, with the exception of Lae'zel and Minthara who looked on with interest, and Astarion, who remained disinterested.

"I am going to need a better explanation than that," Minthara said at last, turning back to her fellow countrywoman. "How in the hells did you end up with a drider for a mate?"

"He's not my ex-boyfriend," sighed Qilue, massaging her temple and flopping down in front of the fire. "Or my mate. He's...I don't know what we were. But he wasn't a drider then."

Minthara's eyebrows lifted, a nearly sympathetic expression that fit strangely on her face. "I...see. My condolences. That is not a fate I would wish on my second-worst enemy, but any who would willingly take on a trial of Lolth--"

"It was not willingly," bit out Qilue, holding back tears. The warden's eyebrows climbed higher. "It was a punishment. The Matron Bitch offered him choice between life or death, and he chose ME."

"You surname," the Nightwarden suddenly demanded. "You hail from Menzoberanzan, do you not? What house are you from?"

"Valtaya," Qilue spat.

"House Valtaya..." Minthara mused. "Yes, I recall. Your mother was an idiot."

"I know."

The pair were silent for a moment as Qilue continued to stare into the flames.

"Would it comfort you to know that your eldest sister now leads your house?"

"Oh?" hummed Qilue lightly, eyes unfocused. Kar'niss had slowed his feasting and listened intently, his attention fixed on the drow women as blood dripped down his chin.

Minthara nodded. "The rumor was that she grew tired of your Matron's wasteful, fruitless ambitions and stabbed her ninety-five times in her sleep. The deed was praised quite highly by those who dared mention it.”

Qilue laughed under her breath. "It was ninety-seven. And my sister didn't do it. I did."

"I see." The warden didn't seem surprised. "Why ninety-seven?"

"One for every year of my life," she replied too easily. "And the poison coating the blade was for Kar'niss."

"The stories didn't mention the poison. What kind?"

"Drider vemon, ironically. I didn't even know of his fate then. They told me he was dead."

Minthara hummed. "It would have been better if he was."

"I know."

"And what of the Patron?" asked Qilue after a moment, dragging the water bucket closer, giving it a casual inspection. The water needed changing, murky and black with dirt, dried blood, and gods knew what else. "Did the rumors mention his fate?"

"He is no longer the Patron, but from my understanding still leads your family's guard."

Qilue scowled. "He was supposed to kill himself. I even gave him a clean knife, which was more than he deserved. Fucker."

A snort burst from the other drow. "If you trusted a male to do the proper thing unsupervised, you're a fool."

"Apparently." Qilue tipped the bucket, spilling water downhill. Gale, listening and watching the exchange with interest, refilled it with a wave of his hand.

"How's that for supervision?" he muttered, mocking the warden's distainful tone.

"Your males are useful," Minthara, having overheard his disrespectful grumbling, pitched her voice to carry. "But poorly trained."

Qilue stifled a laugh as Gale bristled and opened his mouth to retort just as Kar'niss licked the blood from his chin with a tongue much longer than it should have been, half of his eyes squinting in concentration. Gale gagged instead, Astarion chortling as he examined his nails and leaned back against a pillow in front of his tent, one leg propped up on the other.

"I can't speak for Gale, but I'll have you know," the vampire drawled. "That I am in fact MOSTLY house-trained, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Astarion," the drow women and Gale ordered in unison.

78 notes · View notes

helenazbmrskai · 2 years

Text

My Prince Is Charming (m)

Pairing – Prince! Jungkook x Servant! Reader

Genre – Smut, Royalty AU, Forbidden Relationship AU, Angst

Summary – Prince Jungkook overhears the stable boys talking about your pussy game and he wants to see it for himself.

Warnings – power play/dynamic, demanding and entitled jk in the beginning but gets sweet at the end, rubbing over clothes, dirty talk, blowjob, handjob, cum eating, jk cums down oc’s throat twice, unprotected sex with pulling out (remember pulling out is not a good method u can still get pregnant!), cock riding, big dick!jk, praise kink, scent kink, female masturbation, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, clit rubbing, cunnilingus, oral (f and m), teasing, overstimulation, lovemaking, sweet talk, it gets soft at the end, nudity, bathing, dirty thoughts/fantasies (both of them), sexual tension, mutual pining, virgin!jk, mention of the word ’whore’ once but no degradation, loss of virginity, forbidden love, mention of death if they get caught, oc has the hots for her prince

Word Count – (6k+);

Author note. This ask really inspired me! I hope you will like what I come up with either way anon-y! It’s subby but not that much so I don’t label this as sub!jk they both have their moments. I’m a sucker for a good forbidden relationship so I hope some of you will enjoy this filth with me! I’m on a roll even though I should spend more time studying but hey if you guys wish me luck I’ll probably pass my exams all right.

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask! l read part 2 here!

”W-What?”

Your ears are probably deceiving you. There’s no way he said something so scandalous.

”Are you deaf? I said take off my clothes and bathe me, my hand hurts from the swordfighting practice.”

You’re standing still not moving. Is he serious?

He’s getting irritated by your big eyes and agape mouth inanimate like a statue. The only sound is coming from the water running into the bathtub. He’s the prince – but he’s the one who takes the last steps to where you stand and forces your fingers to grab the buttons of his shirt. Jungkook is a stubborn one; always was and always will.

There’s no reason for you to fight him so you comply and start unbuttoning his shirt then your fingers hook into the waistband of his dress pants and pull it down with pink dusting your cheeks.

You spent so many sleepless nights with your hand between your maiden legs imagining his cock if it would be as pink as the roses in the garden. You bet his cock is as pretty as the rest of him, with muscular shoulders and back, thick thighs and a perfectly curved nose. Everything about the prince is mouth watering.

You look away when you remove his underwear and pull off his socks. Now’s not the time. You shouldn’t think of him like that in the first place.

Your gaze remains ahead of you even when you walk the short distance with him to the tub letting him hold your shoulders as he steps into the water and then sinks until it’s only his head out. You dare to look at him now that the bubbles hide what needs to be hidden and you’re surprised to see him already looking back. Was he looking at you this whole time?

There’s no way he could read your mind and see your dirty thoughts. Hopefully, your face is as neutral as possible.

You hold your breath when the sponge makes contact with his skin. You’re waiting for his reaction but he keeps his head thrown back resting it against the edge of the tub and his eyes are closed in a relaxed manner.

When he’s not making any movement to show you his disagreement you continue to drag the sponge all over his chest, shoulders, neck then his lower stomach. Especially careful not to touch his soft cock under the water as you rinse, rub and repeat.

You wash his arms with extra care massaging his fingers since he told you it’s sore. If you listen closely you could hear him sigh when you do something he likes so you make sure to do it again. Your touch relaxes the prince that he almost falls asleep by the time you’re done cleaning him except for his cock and butt you washed him everywhere.

You dry him with a fluffy towel and help him get dressed in his new clothes. Your heart is racing when you accidentally touch his butt when you help him wear his undergarments. He smells so nice after his baths you want to nuzzle your face into every curve of his being but you obviously hold back. He doesn’t react and you pretend that you’re not affected by his body.

You never look at his cock and while it would have been a great opportunity to sate your curiosity you decide it’s best if you continue to rely on your fantasies on lonely nights. It makes things less complicated.

At least that’s what you think. Unaware of his hungry gaze.

***

The prince forcefully places your hand to rest over his clothed cock - you muffle a gasp - as your fingers make contact with his slightly visible bulge over his silk briefs. His piercing eyes burn a hole into your skull as he watches your chest heave up and down his gaze goes to your breasts pushed up by your dress he doesn’t even try to be subtle about his hungry staring. Undressing you with his doe eyes. Nothing innocent is left in them as he moves your hand over his clothes.

”M- My prince we can’t!” You try to free your wrist - after the surprise wears off - from his firm grasp but he doesn’t let you pull your hand away and when you accidentally put some pressure on his outline a surprised moan rips from his throat even at such a small stimulation.

Royals are not allowed to feel pleasure before marriage but here you are with the prince in the confinement of his room asking you to touch him – do filthy things with him. He’s like the forbidden fruit almost unbearable the desire you feel for him but know it too well if you comply you could get beheaded after word gets out.

”I order you to make me feel good.” Your eyes widen when the words leave the prince’s heart shaped lips. He can’t be serious. If his parents discover that you dirtied the prince with your touch you surely will be executed. Prince Jungkook pouts like a child when you still struggle against his hold even more franticly than before, getting tired of your disobedience.

”I can’t do that to you, my prince. If they find out I’m done for! Please don’t ask me to.” His anger subdues when he sees real fear in your magnificent orbs. The palace talks and he heard many stories about your mouth while the stable boys thought he wasn’t listening. Prince Jungkook wants all of it for himself. Riches, expensive clothes, valuable paintings – everything – even if it’s pleasure. Especially if it’s you.

He wants to experience that feeling they were talking about. That bliss when your mouth engulfs his virgin cock. The warmth, the tightness of your sweet throat. Want to paint your face with his white cum. The prince has a long list of fantasies he’s eager to try out on you.

To be truthful he was never interested in sex. He knew it was forbidden until he was married and he was fine without it. Nothing to miss if he doesn’t know what he’s missing. –He thought.

However, everything changed in the last month of July when he overheard the servants talk about you. He knew they meant you, you were his personal maid he knows your name even if he never used it to call you. The first emotion that overpowered him was greed. How dare you pleasure other men when you were his. He was ready to give you your punishment when you went the next day to tend to him. He let you help him change his clothes and let you comb his hair. Jungkook was ready to pounce but then you smiled.

A lock of hair stubbornly made its way back to curl into his eyes you thought it was cute how he tried to blow it away so it doesn’t bother him. His anger subdued for some reason and he decided to watch you instead.

For the first time after the five years, you have spent by his side as his maid, he comes to a realisation that he has a soft spot for you.

He looked at your body with hunger. How your tits bounced when you were dusting his shelves or how you bend down to get a fallen book from the floor. You were wearing a long skirt but he could see the outline of your plump ass. Everything made sense now.

He waited until his desire for you took complete power over him. This is why he grabbed your hand and placed it over his manhood one night when he was particularly weak for you.

He wasn’t thinking about the consequences, his parents would forgive him within a heartbeat but realises you would not be as fortunate as him.

He could understand your fear now. The hurt he felt disappears when he learns your reasons. It’s not that you don’t want to touch him – but that you can’t. There’s too much at stake.

”Hush. No one will find out. If they do I’ll have their head. You’re mine, you’re under my protection.” Jungkook is awkward as he pulls you in a hug.

He never had to calm someone down before. No one touched him or gave him affection so he doesn’t know how to give that to you either. Too surprised to say anything you just lay there in his arms. Soon your breathing goes back to normal and your stiff posture relaxes. The prince is pleased to find you melt into him. He can’t help but find this position nice. He would like to hold you more but he lets you pull away to look into his eyes. You’re searching for something in them that he can’t comprehend.

”I- If I give into you, y-you promise to protect me, my prince?” You’re shaking like a leaf with nerves. What if he was just testing you? Does he truly want you? You have so many questions left unanswered but everything fades when prince Jungkook continues to hold you. Your nose is pressed against his neck while his hands rest against your waist. Even under the thick layers of fabric, you can feel the warmth of his hold.

”I promise you Y/N that no one will hurt you.” Your heart flutters when he calls you by name. You had no idea he even knew it in the first place. It makes the moment all the more special and you no longer fight his hand as he guides it to his pants for the second time.

You start palming him over his clothes without him having to tell you to. You want to do this, he doesn’t have to order you. You’re spurred on by his little sounds and sighs can’t help yourself as you nose along his neck breathing in his scent. Jungkook jumps a little on the bed when you lick a long line up his throat. So filthy. A servant girl touching him over his clothes dirtying him up with her saliva while sitting on his lap. His cock throbs in your gentle hold when you put pressure where you assume his oozing tip is if the dark patch on his clothes is anything to go by. You keep licking him dipping your tongue between the dents of his collarbone tasting his citrus bath oils on his skin.

”My prince you smell so divine.” For good measure you dip your nose behind his ear your breath catches onto his earlobe making the prince shiver. His hands never strayed from your hips and you don’t force him to map you out as well. You remind yourself that he only wants to take the pleasure as it’s his rightful place to do so – you’re not allowed to be greedy, only royals are entitled to act upon it.

Even if you’re dying inside to feel his hands explore you just like you caress him with your warm hands under his dress shirt. His skin is so soft and smells so nice. You bet his cock tastes and smells good just like the rest of him. A hard contrast from the smelly servant boys you spend your free time with fooling around. They are all dirty and handsy – of course, the prince would be on a whole ’nother level. He is bathed every night with the best essential oils in the entire kingdom, his skin scrubbed to perfection. He even let you do it the other day.

As his head maid, you’re required to bathe an order that you’re thankful for as you like to be clean yourself. Dirty girls cannot step foot into his chambers and you make sure to always be clean. You wonder if he thinks you stink. You’re probably sweaty after cleaning his room. Wonder if he could tell that you use a cheap soap. Scented ones are too expensive but maybe you should have bought that lavender one when you were out shopping. Your movements slow down as you get into your head. You try to get some space as you become bashful.

”Don’t stop!” Jungkook janks on your hand franticly the sudden pull makes your body topple over his.

His muscular back lands on the bedsheets with you laying over him with your breasts pushed up against his chest. Feeling your weight on him rips a choked moan from his dry throat.

Your legs are on either side of his hips even with so many layers separating you you could feel his cock nestled in between your buttcheeks throbbing between your legs.

His eyes are fiery the flames of desire licking up his body and the air around you gets hot and electrified. His hands rest on both sides of your thigh. His palm is on your bare skin as your skirt got pushed up with the change of position.

”Don’t stop touching me.” You nod at his command and your hand slides down from the position where you previously rested it against his heaving chest down to his pants. Moans are falling freely from his mouth when you continue to stroke him, your underwear is soaking wet and it’s maddening to watch your prince fall apart from mere rubs over his clothes. If this feels good you can’t imagine what kind of sounds he’ll make for you when you push his pants around his ankles and give him your mouth.

”My prince, will you allow me to take your majestic cock in my mouth?” Jungkook shudders when the request leaves your moist lips. You’ve been biting them to keep your noises in. Embarrassed to let him know you’re enjoying it as much as he does and he’s not even touching you. Just the way he looks at you with half lidded eyes makes a new gush of your arousal soak your already soiled panties.

”Y-Yes. It’s an o-order.” Jungkook tries to breathe through his nose but when the oxygen he gets from it can’t seem to be enough he opens his mouth and pants heavily when you pull his silk pants down his muscular thighs. You’re not removing his underwear as he anticipated and about to tell you his disapproval of not following through with your promise but the words get stuck in his throat.

Your hands hold his hips down from bucking into your face as you nose along his covered length. You sharply inhale and exhale taking in the scent of his member and your tongue pokes out to taste his salty precum. It’s so dirty Jungkook’s cock pulses harder as he watches you nuzzle your face into his cock enjoying the clean smell of him and his taste. It’s better than anything you tasted before.

You pull the fabric down enough to free his aching cock from its prison. Your hand gently gets hold of his base before the weight of it could slap against his stomach and taint his white shirt with his precum. Your cunt pulses from excitement when you can’t make your fingers to meet around his shaft, it’s so thick. The stretch from it would be wonderful.

”Your cock is so pretty my prince.” Your voice is full of awe and praise for your prince. ”So pink and sensitive. Hmmn.” Leaning closer you deliver a kitten lick to the swollen tip before the bead of precum could roll down his length you gather it with your tongue for a real taste. It’s thick but at the same time has that water quality to it, salty but not unpleasantly.

”Pretty cock belongs to a pretty face. Just as pretty as the rest of you.” You’re not one to be all talk but no action. Each sweet word that you whisper into his skin is met with your fingers tracing the line of his cock or your lips collecting his arousal. More and more of his slippery precum ooze from his slit coating your fingers and his length as it aids your movements working over his cock. Your hand moving slow but firm with your grip.

Jungkook is torn between wanting to watch you worship his cock with your gentle licks or giving in to the need to hide his face in his hands from your devoted eyes.

No one praised him before you – even when he wanted his parent's approval they never gave it to him even if he did something right. The fact that you give it to him without having to work for it makes his heart flutter in his chest and shy away.

You can feel his cock twitch between your lips when you keep praising him. How much you like his taste, the shape of his cock or the grith of it that you can’t fully hold in your hand. You make sure to taste every part of him licking from base to tip mapping out every vein while you follow the curve of his cock with your fingers as you drag his sensitive foreskin stroking him near completion.

Jungkook doesn’t understand the concept of teasing. He’s getting restless when you rip the building pleasure out of his hands every time he feels like he could cum buckets if you just continue a little more. It would not take long he knows it, feels it in his belly. Just a little circle with the tip of your tongue around his sensitive cockhead. Or the sound of you choking around his length when you try to take all of him down your throat. Just a little more. You don’t let him cum and he’s painfully hard. The pleasure borders on pain as you pull back again.

He looks down meeting your glossed over eyes with a frustrated huff that he lets out. His throat is sore from all the moaning not used to straining his vocal cords so much. It’s a sign that you teased him too much and now he’s desperate and moody. The scowl on his face doesn’t fade when he watches you take his cock down your throat again – slowly, even if it feels like heaven to be taken back into your wet mouth. The prince takes in the details of your glistening lips stretching around him your eyes are watery as you struggle to keep him there and swallow to make it feel good for him. You stay like that for a few moments before you pull back his cock heavily coated in your saliva and his own excitement.

You’re enjoying exploring your prince’s cock so much that you keep him right at the edge but don’t make him cum.

You just want to stay like this longer you don’t want this to end yet but seeing the frustration on your prince you know you prolonged this more than you should have. With a heavy heart, you bob your head up and down with the intent to make him cum and finally feel his hot release shoot down your throat.

Even if he never lets you touch him again you’ll be a happy woman that you got to be his first.

His release fills your mouth some of it you manage to gulp down but some land on your cheeks. You collect everything with your fingers and are about to put them in your mouth when the prince’s hand stops you.

”What are you doing?” He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes never lost that lustful glimmer and you’re flustered as you offer him a reasonable answer to his sudden question.

”C-Cleaning up the mess. Wait. What are you –? M-My prince!” Your face is coloured by surprise when he puts your cum soaked fingers in his mouth and as you put it clean up the mess. His tongue swirls around every digit even the ones that are clean. There’s a string of spit connecting his lips to your fingers when you pull them out and your pussy clenches around nothing. You would give everything you have if you could just sink down on his cock and feel him. Just realising how uncomfortable the fabric is against your skin. You were so focused on pleasuring Jungkook that you didn’t think about yours. You should go and take care of yourself before the prince realises what effect he had on you.

”Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook practically growls when you try to leave and you freeze on your spot at the edge of the bed. He’s no longer laying on his back as he sat up as you were franticly rearranging your clothes to cover the wet patch on your underwear.

”I-It’s past midnight my prince. You s-should rest.” You take one look at the clock before you face him again. Thankful for the excuse that you managed to come up with within such a short time.

”You’re not going anywhere. Lay down. Now.” Stumbling over your feet you pad to the other side of the bed. You still wait for him to get into a comfortable position before you climb in. Make sure to put extra distance between your bodies as you lay down trying to be respectful no matter how weird it sounds after having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. You’re not bold enough to disobey and the prince looks agitated enough.

While Jungkook wears comfortable clothes to sleep you cannot say the same as you’re still in your dress. He didn’t let you to go and quickly change for some reason. Maybe afraid you will go back on your word and never come back. Everything is quiet as the last candle burnt out hours ago and all you can hear is the prince’s regular puffs of breaths.

You decide to think about the consequences later as you roll out of bed and start undoing the strings on your dress when you were sure Jungkook is fast asleep. There’s no way you will be able to sleep in this stuffy dress so you take it off and get under the covers in your undergarments. The slip you’re wearing underneath barely covers you but it’s better now that the fabric doesn’t dig into your skin. Your underwear is still wet with your juices and you almost let out a soft moan when the soft duvet touches your heated skin.

You’re still wound up from sucking Jungkook’s cock and you’re desperate to feel some pleasure. If the prince didn’t order you to stay your fingers would be already in your cunt making yourself cum while his taste still lingers in your mouth. You wish you could touch yourself but the prince is sleeping right next to you!

You don’t know what will happen if he catches you pleasuring yourself in his presence. Would he be disgusted with you? Turned on?

You stay on your back for a while trying to sleep but after another eventless half an hour of tossing and turning around you decide you’re gonna go for it. Damn the consequences you want to cum.

You wriggle your body to be on top of the covers carefully so you don’t wake up the prince.

The slip dress you’re wearing is hanging off your body on both sides covering your naked breasts only as you spread your legs and touch yourself over the wet fabric.

Fuck. You completely soaked through it the wet sounds of the fabric moving around with your movements are unmistakable.

You dare to let out soft sighs hoping that the squelches of your pussy and your moans won’t wake him up. You try to be as quiet as you can but it’s hard when you know Jungkook is right next to you unaware of you touching yourself while imagining it's his hand that slips under your panties and circle your clit.

What you don’t know is that Jungkook has been awake the whole time. He couldn’t possibly sleep when you were tossing and turning around rustling the sheets. It’s dark but his eyes could see your silhouette undoing your dress presenting yourself almost naked for him. His cock started to swell in his pants again and grew fully hard when he heard you touching yourself – he could hear you call his name softly. He normally would behead everyone who dare call him by his birth name but the way you moan it. It doesn’t make him angry, not in the slightest. It makes him horny.

He could smell you in the air at first he doesn’t know what it is but soon puts the pieces together that it must be your arousal. The sounds that your cunt makes as your fingers work on you are so clear in his ears, he bet that you’re so wet.

His self control withers away when you let out another moan a lot louder than before and this time he pounces.

”What do you think you’re doing?” There’s a dark quality to his voice that makes your whole body shake as you do a ragged exhale. You can feel his breath on your face so close to you. He’s leaning over your body his legs are caging in one of your thighs and his hand is on your wrist to stop you from reaching your orgasm. You were so close your pussy still throbs even though you should be terrified that you have been caught.

”Please my prince, l-let me cum. I was so close.” You surprise Jungkook with your begging. You’re too lost in the pleasure to think about anything else. This is not the reaction he was expecting and the neediness in your tone makes his cock react to you so naturally. He would like to bury it between your legs.

”Show me. I’ll do it.” Jungkook doesn’t know what took over him at that moment but doesn’t back down when he sees the excitement in your orbs mixed with bewilderment.

The oil lamp suddenly showers the room with light and the desire to see the mess between your legs is granted. It’s the first time for him to see pussy. It looks very pink and soft he wants to touch it. He doesn’t hold back – you’re his. Your pussy belongs to him. One swipe of his finger is enough to tear a loud whimper from your throat. The prince’s eyes snap up to see your face contorted in bliss. A smug smirk plays in the corner of his mouth knowing that it was him who made you just scream. He keeps rubbing you so you could sing for him again and you do. You don’t try to hide how good his fingers feel and Jungkook enjoys your reactions so much that his cock started to throb again in need of you.

”Please my prince. I –, I” You can’t find the right words and Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re begging for. He keeps rubbing feeling how your swollen folds get wetter with his touches. He gets impatient quickly and your meaningless words are thinning his patience.

”Speak up woman. I don’t know what to do if I don’t know what you’re begging for.”

His fingers slip on your juices oozing from your hole and the tip of it breaches your entrance making your hips elevate from the sheets and chase his touch. You’re even wetter there so he pushes it deeper experimentally. Testing how deep it can do. He doesn’t find the end even when his finger is knuckle deep. The prince finds you tight around his digit so warm and wet that he wants his cock to be in there instead.

”P-Prince. C-Can I feel your tongue, please? R-Right here.” Your fingers rest on a swollen nub and Jungkook is intrigued by it. His fingers leave your pussy which creates a slight ache when he’s out, feeling empty again but you buzz with excited energy when Jungkook follows through with your request and slides his tongue over the part of your cunt that you showed him. His slick finger that was inside you finds leverage on your hipbone when he starts licking your insides.

”Oh yes – yes there! It feels so good my prince!” Preening because of your positive feedback he flicks his tongue over your clit more fervently. You try to shut your legs from the overwhelming pleasure but Jungkook pushes them apart with his digits leaving marks on your inner thighs.

”I can’t lick you if you squirm around like that.” The prince is annoyed when you try to close your legs again while he’s trying to lick you clean. Your moans never stop coming even when some pain mixes with the pleasure as Jungkook forces your legs to stay open. You didn’t think there would be a day when prince Jungkook will feast on your pussy. He’s subtly grinding his cock into the sheets hearing your sounds and tasting your sweet arousal makes him rut against the bed like a whore.

”It feels so good. I can’t ugh oh fuck – help it.” Jungkook growls into your folds when he hears you swear. What a filthy mouth you have, it makes him want to bury his cock in your cunt even more.

”Are you going to cum on your prince’s tongue?” You’re shameless as you chant ’yes, yes, yes’ into the night. Jungkook keeps slurping up your juices giving lots of attention to your clit as he keeps flicking his tongue over it until you come undone under him. He’s drowning in your cum – it coats his cheeks, chin and makes his lips glisten in the lamplight when he pulls back to have a breather.

”Taste good.” Jungkook hums gathering your cum on his fingers before he puts them into his mouth to get more while you try to get down from your high. He keeps pushing his fingers in your sensitive and puffy pussy to get more cum and keeps eating it.

Your body bows to his wishes and produces more for him even though the stimulation borders on being painful. He pulls the digits out for the last time and licks his lips to get every remaining taste of you, finally letting you get a break.

”Are you tired?” The gentle gesture of his hands pushing your hair back from your face makes a tired smile appear. You are. You would hate to leave Jungkook with a boner so you shake your head and reach for his pants but he stops you before you could take his hard length out.

”I can see that you’re tired. You can take care of it later.” His attentiveness creates butterflies in your stomach. Nonetheless determined you reach for his zipper and pull him out. Excited to get another taste and you don’t waste time licking his pink cockhead.

”Stop me if you don’t want me to.” Your face is full of vulnerability afraid to get rejected but you still offer him to back out. Jungkook cups your face in his hands and pulls you up to kiss you. It’s silly to think he’ll reject you now after he cummed down your throat and he ate you out.

”Want to feel your pussy around me. I-It’s not an order though. Only if you – want me to.”

Your smile is blinding it makes Jungkook’s heart to skip a beat. You’re eager to get the remains of your clothes off and he does the same. You’re both bare in front of each other when his cock slips between your folds. His cock is trapped between your pussy lips and his stomach as you grind down on him getting ready.

”My prince! You’re s-so big!” He’s not even halfway inside you when your walls clamp around him stretching to their limits. The combined sensation of your walls surrounding him and your obscene praise makes his job hard to not cum even before he gets fully seated inside.

”Y-You’re the one w-who’s tight!” You giggle at his shy outburst. Clearly not used to getting compliments.

The prince turns his face into your palm when you touch his cheeks his nose rubbing against your wrist, starved for your attention, for your love. You’re giving him everything that he ever wanted and wished for. The moment is even more intimate with his cock nestled in your heat.

You never realised how lonely the prince was. No matter how hard he tried to get his parent's approval they never paid attention to him. The servants avoided him worried of the king and queen’s wrath – outer appearances meaning more to them than the happiness of their son. You’re eager to show the prince everything that he’s been missing out on. Starting with making him feel good.

He deserves the night when he loses his virginity to be special.

”Feeling good, my prince?” Jungkook throws his head back when you roll your hips. You plant both hands on his bare chest to regain leverage and have something to hold onto when you raise your hips high enough to just keep the tip inside before you drop down.

”Ye– Yes!”

Repeating the dirty dance of your hips till both of you are panting and seeing stars.

His cock pressing against your inner walls fills you up with heavenly pleasure. Seeing the desperation in his eyes to hold back on the urge to cum is explanatory itself. This is the most attention his virgin cock ever got and too excited now to last long.

”Y-Y/N! I’ll c-cum. I-I can’t! You- you’re-” Good? Perfect? Perhaps, tight? Or warm? You’ll never know what he wanted to say at that moment. It’s him who doesn’t make sense. Every sentence he tries to form dies on his tongue and remains uncomplete as his cock slips in and out of your pussy.

You’re so wound up to have your darkest fantasy of fucking the prince become a reality that you doubt you would be able to last long either so it’s a win-win.

You ride him like it’s the last time you got to do it (hopefully not, but you’ll be damned if you don’t make it the best pussy he will ever have) sometimes you roll your hips when he’s balls deep so it gives your clit some friction. It’s for his benefit because every time your finger circles your clit your walls are getting tighter around him.

The prince chokes on his moans as you sensually bounce on his dick. His fingers dig into your sides like his life is depending on it. You’re his only anchor in between his impending orgasm.

His high pitched moans are ending up in whines when you attack his neck licking and kissing wherever you could without making permanent marks. You would love nothing more than to mark him up with your bruises he would look exquisite with hickeys all over but you know you can’t have that luxury where everyone can see. It would give the people a reason to talk and you don’t have a death wish.

Your mind is too hazy under the influence of his magic cock to rationally think about what it would mean for the both of you to have him cum inside you. You want to feel it drip out of your spent pussy but are you ready for the consequences if it leads to pregnancy? The answer is no.

”My p-prince you can’t cum inside. If you do we will both get caught.”

Jungkook hears you, he really does. There’s an unmistakable disappointment in his eyes but he knows you’re right. You can’t get pregnant. His parents would murder you.

This is the first time someone really cares about him. Sees him as he is. He’s not going to lose you just because he can’t hold his release. His pride or his heart would not allow that to happen. Prince Jungkook is determined and when he is no one can stop him. It’s weird to see it apply to this situation but the thought fills you with warmth. He cares enough.

”I c-can hold it. P-Please come around me.” You bet no one heard him tell someone, please. His cock buried in you makes you special. The prince the future heir to the throne lets a common maid fuck him, and dirty him before his marriage. The fact that you can be the first one to corrupt him is enough to push you over the edge.

You release around his cock with a loud groan it’s almost maddening to feel your core pulse around him but stays strong for you.

It takes every ounce of your self control to stop before he could paint your walls white.

His cock is swollen and sensitive when you guide it to your mouth with your fingers wrapped around the base and you suck.

Swallow around his cock and make him come undone. He tastes like you and him both your juices mixed in a sweet tangy taste. Your hands massage the parts that you can’t fit into your mouth as you guide him through his orgasm. Drinking every last drop of his cum.

Jungkook is still shaking even when he came down from his high in your arms.

Your fingers carding through his hair leisurely to help him calm down. His face squished between your boobs as he sleepily holds you by the waist. His weight on you is a welcomed sensation even though both of you are sweaty and cum soaked. His flaccid cock resting against the apex of your thighs and your legs intertwined under the duvet as you embrace each other in your naked post sex glory.

#sub jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #bts royalty au #prince jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #sub bts

1K notes · View notes

infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

Note

(kinda based on the last ask) okay but now i’m thinking about steve inviting eddie to his gym and he only agrees because steve working out while making those little whines and pants?? obviously he’s going, but nope he made a mistake because now he has to pretend to work out (gross) and be publicly flustered by steve…

recently turned this gym partner steddie ficlet into a fully fledged 6.5k ao3 fic. feel free to check out the added filth here <333 mwah and thank you again to anon for the prompt that inspired it !

read pt.2 here !

read pt. 3 here !

your mind !! giving you a round of applause for this one !

okay so steve shows up in the tiniest gym shorts he owns and a white crop top bc he gets really sweaty—which eddie quickly finds he’s extremely turned on by. and ofc steve’s kinda oblivious to the real reason why eddie asked him if they could workout together. so he just takes eddie around the gym and shows him how to use the cardio machines, free weights, bench press etc. not batting an eyelash at the obvious hard-on eddie’s now sporting beneath his own shorts bc he’s too distracted by trying to get a good workout in.

and the thing is, steve’s been a member at this gym for quite some time now and he’s well known around town (ex-jock/popular kid and what have you). so a bunch of his old teammates/acquaintances from high school stop by to chat with him as he leads eddie through their workout.

which only adds fuel to the fire—for a multitude of reasons—bc some of the guys are a little too handsy with steve as they make small talk. they’ll smack his ass, making it jiggle obscenely in those extra-small shorts, or they’ll reach over to teasingly twist one of his perky pink nipples through his fitted t-shirt. it’s all the stereotypical, jock-y, borderline homoerotic locker room, bullshit eddie used to pay witness to after gym class in school. the type of shit he used to roll his eyes at and ignore to the best of his ability.

but now, with steve harrington right in front of him, letting out all these breathy little moans and sighs as he exercises, getting fondled like a piece of meat by whoever can get their hands on him—eddie can’t quite ignore it. he quickly becomes a mixed bag of emotions, as steve reps out more bicep curls and socializes; jealous, confused, and unbearably horny.

bc god does steve look appetizing. he’s dripping sweat, smells deliciously musky, his veins are swollen from the exertion, his tits are all too visible through his dampened shirt, and the outline of his cock is readily on display in those shorts. the head of it almost peeking out from the hem every time he moves too quickly. and his ass looks so plump and round, eddie wants to sink his teeth into it asap.

but worst (best) of all are the sweet cries of effort he’s continually making. it’s a dangerous fucking game for eddie to be next to him right now. he can hardly take it, so he tries to palm himself just a little bit over the pants, as steve pushes his body to finish the set. he’s moaning so high in his throat to get the weight up the rest of the way and eddie knows if he just closed his eyes, he could easily imagine those pretty noises in a very different context. but if he allowed himself to do that, he’d also probably cum on the spot, so he grits his teeth and tries to avoid looking at steve for the time being.

and later on, when they go back to the locker room to get changed and shower off, eddie thinks he’s in the clear. he breathes a sigh of relief and can’t wait to get home so he can jerk off to the thought of steve’s gorgeous little sounds.

but when he goes to enter one of the gym shower stalls and starts to rinse off, he finds himself forcibly pressed up against the tile wall.

“y’know,” steve whispers hotly in his ear, licking the shell of it and nibbling on the lobe, “i’ve heard sex burns a decent amount of calories and since you were doing a lot more staring than lifting today, i’d say that might be a good way for you to make up for it.”

#unhinged and debauched steddie thoughts #hope you enjoy anon #steddie #the steddie brainrot is real #steddie brainrot #steve harrington headcanon #steddie headcanon #steddie au #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie things #eddie munson headcanon #steddie imagine #steddie nation #fruity four

306 notes · View notes

rxttingsblog · 2 years

Text

𓆩❤︎𓆪 Pacify him 𓆩❤︎𓆪

( PART 3 )

Yandere!Peter ballard/Henry creel, dark!002 x hurt!Reader

READER IS 18!!

Summary: Peter comforts+takes care of the reader after her abusive boyfriend AKA 002 violated her body. Reader is confused with what just happened between them but with enough convincing she manages to tell Peter what went down in the storage closet. Let’s just say.. Peter isn’t too thrilled about it.

WARNING: Forced/toxic relationship, physical & emotional abuse, love triangle, age-gap, grooming, mentions of murder+non-con touching, pure fluff, dark comfort, dark themes, possessive behavior, manipulation, inside hawkins lab.

(part 2) (part 1)

“You need to let me take care of you” Peter insisted his voice filling with concern for you.

You shifted uncomfortable, trying to find a comfortable position. Peter crouched behind you, shower nozzle in hand as you sat in front of him with your knees pressing against your chest. You did everything in your power to keep your exposed body covered but you failed to cover every inch.

“I can take care of myself..” You try to reply confidently but your voice sounded hoarse with pain as you choked back a broken sob

“If you could then why don’t you leave that filth?” Peter interrogated, in which you groaned in response to his question.

It made you angry, it wasn’t that easy. He had to understand that you couldn’t just simply leave. It went deeper than that and there was way more to it. No one understood that you were trapped. So leaving wouldn’t be an option. Even if you could leave you wouldn’t know how. You didn’t even know how to properly break up with someone. The thought of leaving 002 made your gut wrench in fear. He’d kill you if you left. You weren’t ready to die yet.

Suddenly, you muster up the courage to respond, “It’s complicated..”

“How so?” He hums, while rinsing out your hair, the feeling of the warm gushing water falling through your hair sent your into a state of temporary bliss.

“I can’t just leave? I love him!” You admit, but you knew those words were a lie. You didn’t love him, you USED to love him.. but not anymore. Not after the hell he’s put you through.

Peter only chucked, “We all know that’s a lie.”

You didn’t respond to that, Peter was intelligent so it was useless to try and lie to him. All you could do was sigh in defeat as he washed your hair. While he washed your hair more thoughts ran through your mind.

Why was he doing this for me? Why did he even want to help me? Do i even deserve this?

You couldn’t help but whimper in pain as Peter bathed you. All you wanted to do was scream how much 002 has been hurting you. Expose him for who he truly is as a person. But at the same time you didn’t want to bother anyone with your domestic abuse problems. Others had it worst so why should you even explain your problems?

“It’s okay, love. You’re doing so well.” Peter praised you as he finished up on you. All the dirt from your body and hair disappeared down the drain and now it was time to dry your body off which you could handle while Peter grabbed a fresh gown for you.

When the two of you were finally finished, Peter grabbed your smaller hand and led you down the dark corridor. The two of you didn’t speak a single word to each other until you both were in your room. The consistent awkward silence wasn’t helping. Honestly, it just made you feel more anxious than before.

Peter took a seat at the edge of your bed and you just stood there fiddling with the sides of your hospital gown. Having anxiety really did suck because you never knew what to say without sounding idiotic. Not to mention, all your words came out soft or as a stutter you didn’t have control over.

“Come here,” He beckoned you over with his finger and with that command you slowly walked over to him until you were in between his long legs. This position made your face flush up in embarrassment so you avoided eye contact.

Then again, Peter did not like this. You and him were the opposite. He liked eye contact meanwhile you couldn’t even hold proper eye contact for over 5 seconds. Your eyes always wardered off into space. Literally it happened every single time you and him communicated.

“What happened in there?” Peter questioned, referring to why he stumbled across you, in a ball, crying hysterically in the vacant storage closet that supposedly no one ever went into.

“i-” You paused, not knowing how to elaborate this. To be frank, you had no clue what 002 did to you. All you knew is that he hurt you. Half of you wasn’t in the mood to even tell Peter because it just felt embarrassing. Especially when 002 touched you the way he did. But it wasn’t long until you felt that strong urge again to just break down in front of him.

Peter’s hand instinctively found it’s way to your face. His large hand gently cupped your petite face as he pulled you into his body more. Warmth radiated off him and you wanted nothing more to just rest your head against his chest as he lulled you to sleep but that couldn’t be a possibility. Could it?

“It’s hard to explain..” You grumbled in response as his slender fingers traced your features and that’s when you leaned into his touch. Peter took notice of that and slid his hands down your waist so that he could pull you onto his lap.

“I have the time,” He reassured while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart fluttered by his gentle touch.

“Okay,” you take a deep breath

“After i went to the cafeteria.. he and his friends led me to the storage closet. Sometimes 002.. hurts me if i disobey him. He got upset because we were talking i guess so he did something.. i’m not really sure how to explain it?” You admit, sounding embarrassed as ever. Your hands gripped tighter into his white uniform.

Peter frowned as you spoke, he was never capable of liking anything nor feeling sympathetic towards anyone for that matter. But this time, he felt different, a undying need to protect you from this cruel world with made up rules and filthy individuals who walk upon the face of it. He didn’t know why he liked you so much. But out of every human he resented, 002 got on his last nerve. If he didn’t have that stupid chip implanted into his neck none of this would be happening to you.

“Can you tell me what else happened? Just explain it to the best of your ability.” He encouraged with a sincere smile while keeping his hold on your waist as you straddled him.

He noticed the hesitation in your eyes.

“It’s okay, i’ll understand. It’s only us.” He reminded you, while rubbing little circles alongside your hips with his thumb.

“Well, he took me in there and tried to touch me? Which he did.. and his friends watched. They called me such awful things- i don’t even want to think about it.. but he did something to my body? i don’t know what it’s called.. but i believe it was sexual and he wasn’t supposed to do that. He didn’t ask me in the first place..” After you were done explaining that, Peter nodded his head and understood completely from where you were coming from.

Even though on the outside it didn’t look like it. On the inside Peter was fuming with great festering anger he’s never experienced before in his lifetime. You belonged to him, not 002. This rage only grew stronger the more he thought about it. His gut twisted with this uncomfortable feeling. An urge he couldn’t just ignore. He had the strong urge to rip 002 apart limb by limb and make him pay for putting you through all this misery. You were such a precious creature who didn’t deserve this and 002 really had the audacity to take advantage of your kindness and corrupt your innocence?

Peter was infuriated but his heart also sank while you told him all this at the same time. He’s never experienced emotions let alone experiencing sadness, anger, and even jealousy all at the same time. You did not deserve something like this and what 002 did to you was crossing the line. He’s never heard anything so disgusting before.

Peter tried to remain his very best to stay calm for you. You were already traumatized enough and he wasn’t in any way shape or form to cause you even more stress than before. He noticed the way your body glued to his form as you rested against him. You were growing tired and he could tell.

“Here, let’s put you to bed, shall we?” He smiled sweetly before laying you down on your bed. Peter pulled the blankets over your body as soon as you got situated in a comfortable position.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, honey. But it’s going to be alright. I’m going to find us a way out of here so that me and can be happy together. No more bullying, no more Papa, no more 002. I wont let them hurt you again, do you understand?” Peter’s voice suddenly switched. He still sounded sincere but it’s as if his voice was darker and more deeper than before.

You’ve never heard someone spoke so seriously nor sound so sure of themselves but because you were so tired all you could do was nod your head in response.

You expected him to leave after pulling the covers over you but he didn’t. Instead he crouched down next to the bed, running his longer fingers through your silky hair while humming. He fawned over your resting body, watching your chest rise and fall as you relaxed.

It wasn’t long until you soon felt yourself drifting off to sleep. This new feeling you’ve been only experiencing around Peter felt oddly amazing. Maybe this.. maybe this was love. But how could that be? Peter was your caretaker and you knew Papa would be even more upset if you fell for someone like him. Besides, you were with 002.

As you rested, you thought about 002. You may have been in a relationship with him.. but you did not love him. Well, not anymore at least.

Before you were about to pass out entirely, you no longer felt Peter’s presence amongst you. You didn’t feel him caressing your hair anymore. Your glossy eyes instantly fell upon him sitting up about to leave but you abruptly caught his hand to pull him back down towards you.

“Wait..” You call out before he got up. Your hand practically squeezing his from all this anxiety you’ve been having recently. You didn’t even notice how tight you were holding him. Peter furrowed his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to say what you need to say.

“Thank you.. for everything.” You murmur gratefully, relief flooded over yourself, you would’ve never been able to forgive yourself if you ever let him leave like that without thanking him

Peter stared at you for a second, it was an odd look so it led you to believe that you said something wrong. His gaze made you question yourself, as always.

Did i not thank him fast enough? Oh fuck, what’s wrong with me?!

“I’m sorry, did i say something wrong? I didn’t mean to! i just wanted to thank yo-” Your words were cut off by Peter pulling you into him and pressing his lips against yours.

You’ve kissed 002 before but never like this. This kissing felt different but it felt wonderful. Better than any make out session you and 002 preformed. You kissed him back, but gently. You let his more experienced lips do most of the work.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but sit there completely astounded. Your jaw slightly hung open in shock as you processed so many different emotions. Peter only smiled at your flustered state. You couldn’t help but blush at his gestures.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He cooed before leaving your room in one swift motion. Leaving you alone with your pounding heart and racing thoughts.

Peter stormed down the eerie corridor with his restless homicidal thoughts consuming his brain. With every step he took he thought of ways to hurt everyone who dared to touch you, everyone who wronged you. He knew you couldn’t do this anymore and neither could he. Peter had to make a plan, a plan that could get the both of you out of here.

And this plan couldn’t fail.

(comment for part 4! reblogs+likes+comments are greatly appreciated<3)

172 notes · View notes

elspethdekarios · 1 month

Note

I did the WIP folder game last night! In fact, someone asked me about one of my wips so now I'm gonna ask you about one of yours!

"Bath in a fresh stream." It sounds lovely honestly. Full of comfort. I'd love to learn more :)

These games are so fun because it gives us another way to connect and share with each other. 😊 Thanks so much for tagging me 🥰

Ooh I'll have to go look at yours after this!

So the bath in a stream piece takes place in Act 1 right after fighting Ethel. They make camp in a peaceful little spot where the stream makes a bit of a horseshoe shape, and there are enough trees for cover that each of them can bathe in private. Elspeth finishes her bath and sees Gale a little bit away hunched over and gripping his arm. Here's a snippet. Actually this is like 90% of what I have written of it lol:

One by one, they took turns bathing on either side of the bank. Elspeth was disgusting, and more than ready to wash the filth and hag guts from her skin. She gathered her night clothes and spare linens to dry off with before weaving through the small thicket of trees. Undressed, she dipped her foot in the water before stepping in. It was cool, sending a shiver from her toes up to her shoulders, but she stepped further in until the water came up to her waist and she could submerge herself. She plunged her head beneath the water, letting the shock of cold pull her away from reality for a few moments. As she washed her body and rinsed the soap from her hair, she tried her best to push their current predicament from her mind and savor the moment of luxury they’d been lucky enough to find in this place.

Night was beginning to fall, but between the fire and the bright light from the full moon, it wasn’t dark. It was like a suspended dusk, not quite nighttime, not quite day. Elspeth dried herself off and got dressed, still using the linen to shake her hair dry as she walked back to her tent when a quiet but strenuous breathing caught her attention. It came from the shore at the front of the riverbend. She could make out a spot of purple through the trees. Gale was sitting on a rock, his back to her, hunched over.

Her sandals crunched through the pine needles and coarse sand as she approached, and he turned to see who was there. His face lit up for a fleeting moment when he saw her, but quickly fell somber and… was he blushing?

“Are you alright?” she asked, seeing the concern in his eyes. His hair was wet, pushed back from his face to reveal the orb’s tattoo stretching up his neck.

“Oh, I’m–I’m just–” he sputtered out, flustered at her unexpected visit. “Yes, I’m alright–I’ll be alright.”

There was an uncertainty in his tone, quite different from his usual confidence and optimism. It unsettled her. As she stepped closer to him, she saw that he was tending to an injury on his forearm. He held a soft linen to his arm, a clean bandage sat draped across his knee, ready to be used.

“Gale, you know I can heal that for you,” she said as she moved to kneel in front of him for a better look. He didn’t move his hand away from the wound.

“Not this one,” he grimaced. “I’ll be fine, Elspeth, I promise. Given my… condition, it’s just a symptom I have to endure.”

She furrowed her brow as he spoke. If his condition had some kind of effect on his ability to be healed, he hadn’t mentioned it before. Why was he being so cryptic?

“Show me.”

“El, really–” he began to protest.

“Do you trust me, Gale?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then trust me now,” she said. “Healing is what I do best. Let me try.”

He locked eyes with her for a moment longer, as if contemplating the extent to which he was willing to be vulnerable with her.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But it’s not pretty.”

The sight of the wound under his hand made Elspeth gasp, though she tried her best to hide it. The gaping lesion in his flesh wasn’t red and bloody like she expected, but a purple as dark as midnight. When he lifted the linen, thick indigo began to pool in the open center of the wound. It wasn’t fresh–the scar tissue and dark, crusted edges told her that this had been there for a while, not to mention the sickly yellow bruise that surrounded it.

“Gale,” she managed to say softly. “What in the hells happened?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“The orb did this?”

He nodded. “It is… destroying me. From the inside out.”

“How long have you had this?” she asked.

“Ever since the magical items started losing their effect. It’s as if infused magic isn’t enough anymore. It wants something stronger. It’s feeding on… me.”

“Gale, it’s been a tenday since that last artifact!” she reprimanded. A pressure started to build up in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there’s nothing you can do. And I don’t want you to have yet another problem to worry about.”

“And how do you know there’s nothing I can do?” she asked. “Seen any other clerics about this? Healers? Doctors?”

“No, of course not,” he said. “I think this, like our tadpole problem, is beyond what a cleric or a healer could do. It’s too powerful.”

She took another look at the wound, gently probing the bruised skin around it for signs of infection. It wasn’t hot or swollen. It was just skin that had been ripped open.

“Can I try, at least?” she asked. “Maybe I can’t do anything, as you suspect. But we’ll never know if I don’t try.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

As she hovered her hands over the wound, a vivid turquoise light glowed from her palms. Specks of magic floated through the air like a light snow, stray bits of weave spilling out from the concentration of magic particles infusing into his open flesh. Healing magic emitted a perfect temperature, no matter the situation. It was warm like a soft blanket but somehow icy like chilled metal at the same time. It was odd–but that’s just the nature of magic, she supposed.

When she removed her hands, the gaping, purple crevice was no more than a raised, violet scar.

#fic #my writing #ask

3 notes · View notes

pearlsephoni · 9 months

Text

The Big Fat Greek Honeymoon, Ch 2: From Athens to Santorini

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Two days of travel in a row won't stop the newly-weds from enjoying the villa they'll call home for the week.

A/N: Originally published on AO3 on May 28th. Further author's notes can be found there.

🏛️

For all of Tobio’s grumbling and bluster, he still wraps Shoyo back up in the now-filthy towel and carries him back to the bathroom, where he leaves him to rinse himself down in the shower while Tobio fills up the bathtub with hot water and a complementary bath bomb Shoyo found earlier. By the time Shoyo deems himself sufficiently filth-less, Tobio has already lowered himself into the bathtub and is waiting for him with surprising patience.

He feels floaty and half-awake the entire time, his mind still dazed after having two powerful, ruthless, sublime orgasms ripped out of him. He’s less smiley and more sleepily content when Tobio towels him down after the bath, tucking his head under his chin and holding on tight despite Tobio’s half-hearted grumble of, “Dumbass, I can’t dry you like this.”

“S’okay.”

“Lemme go.”

“No.”

He hears a gruff sigh, before strong arms and the fluffy towel wrap around him. “...Oi.”

“Hm?”

“Can you walk back to bed alright?”

Shoyo’s eyes slowly blink open as he peers up at Tobio. “...If I say no, will you carry me back?”

“Alright, that’s a yes.”

“Noooo,” Shoyo laughs, clinging to Tobio and shuffling along with his attempts to leave the bathroom. “Carry meeeee, you carried me here!”

“Yeah, and you’re fine now.”

“You really think my ass recovered that fast?”

“Jesus, shut up,” Tobio growls. Without any warning, he slips out of Shoyo’s hold and grabs him around the waist, hoisting him over his shoulder to the sound of his startled squawks.

“Ow, Tobi, what the hell!” he shouts, battering at his back and kicking uselessly at the air.

“You wanted me to carry you, right?”

“Yeah, like your husband, not like a sack of rice!”

“Oops,” Tobio deadpans, not sounding remorseful at all. Jerk.

He doesn’t put Shoyo down until they reach the bed again, where he still lowers him with the same care he’d shown before. “There. Happy?”

“No,” Shoyo grouches, turning away from Tobio to crawl up the bed.

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“Yes!” With that, he burrows under the covers, keeping his back to Tobio’s side of the bed and not giving up any of the covers despite his tugs at them.

“Hey…Sho, c’mon.”

Shoyo doesn’t say a word…but he does let some of the covers loose.

They’re immediately tugged back to the other side of the bed, before a weight makes the mattress shift beneath him. “...Sho?”

Shoyo presses his lips thin and stays turned away, even though every part of him wants to turn towards the weight slowly approaching behind him. “Shoooo.”

“No.”

“Hey…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Hmph.”

“You seemed fine after the bath, so I thought…” Hesitant fingers brush his waist, making him jerk a little from surprise, but he doesn’t move towards or away from the touch. “…What can I do?” Shoyo held his breath. “To make it up to you?”

Shoyo waits a beat or two, just to make Tobio squirm, before suggesting, “…Could you carry me to the Olympic stadium?”

“Are…are you serious?”

“If you don’t want to…”

“No, no, I’ll…I’ll do it.”

“…Really?!”

“Yeah…”

That’s all Shoyo needs to hear to make him turn towards Tobio with a sunny smile. His husband, for his part, looks like he’s just stuck a whole lemon in his mouth. “Now are you happy?” Tobio mumbles.

“Mm-hm!” Shoyo snuggles in, bumping his head under Tobio’s chin and brushing a kiss to his throat. “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to carry me.” Shoyo peeks up with a cheeky grin. “I just wanted to see what you’d agree to. I wasn’t actually mad.”

“You little—” A broad hand suddenly covers Shoyo’s face, making him squawk when it shoves him back. “You sneaky little bastard!”

“Love you, too,” Shoyo coos, holding on tight. “Don’t be mad! I’ll let you win tomorrow!”

That brings a familiar glint to Tobio’s eye. “‘Let’ me? I’m gonna win fair and square.”

“Not if you don’t get some sleep!”

There’s a grunt, then an arm tucking Shoyo into a strong chest. “G’night, dumbass.”

“Good night, jerk!”

🏛️

In a rare twist, Tobio is the first to wake up in the morning, and Shoyo isn’t roused by his weight shifting out of bed. When he does wake up, it’s to gentle fingers in his hair, an ache at his hips, and the sight of a bowl of Greek yogurt with granola and honey drizzled on top sitting on the bedside table.

He stretches with a wince and a moan, before he catches the hand sliding out of his hair and slowly opens his eyes to Tobio’s soft grin and softer, “Hey.”

“Hey, love,” Shoyo mumbles. He winces again as he pushes himself upright, blinking in the sunlight streaming into the room. “What time is it?”

“7:30. You have to hurry if we want to make it to the stadium.”

That fully wakes him up. “Shoot!”

It’s a mad scramble, but they manage to make it to the Panathenaic stadium by 8:00, giving them a full hour to workout. The stadium itself is stunning: it’s the only stadium in the world completely made of marble, and while its age shows in the yellow tinge to the stone, it still seems to glow in the early morning sunlight.

They stand at the entrance to the stadium for a quiet, awestruck moment before Shoyo glances at Tobio with a grin. “Hey, Tobi.”

“What?”

“Race you.”

Sapphire eyes meet amber for a single, charged breath. Then, as though they hear the same imaginary gunshot, they bolt forward to the black racetrack.

They race around the stadium, then up and down the marble bleachers, then race to get the most reps of push-ups and crunches and burpees. By the time Shoyo collapses to the ground, he’s added two wins to his tally, while Tobio’s added three.

“I win,” Tobio grunts as he plops down next to Shoyo with all the grace of a dropped potato sack.

“It’s not fair,” Shoyo whines. “You’re not the one who was fucked sore last night.”

“Dumbass, shut up! We’re in public!”

“Who understands Japanese in Greece?”

There’s a kick at his hip, and when he pushes himself to his elbows to scowl at Tobio, he instead finds his husband watching someone run past them on the racetrack. He follows his eyeline and finds himself staring at an East Asian woman jogging away, ears glowing red in a way that’s distinctly not from exercise. “…Shit.”

“Idiot.”

“Shut up! How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe don’t talk about sex in public in the first place,” Tobio hisses. They scowl at each other before Tobio’s frown melts into concern. “Are you really still sore from last night?”

“A little,” Shoyo admits, carefully rising to his feet. “But I’m okay. I still beat you twice, right?”

Tobio’s concern hardens back into his grumpy scowl, but he still accepts Shoyo’s proffered hand and lets him pull him up. “I want first shower,” he declares, not letting go of Shoyo’s hand. “Since I won more.”

Shoyo gasps in mock hurt. “You don’t want to shower together?”

“If we shower together, we’re gonna miss the boat to Santorini,” Tobio says with a raised, intentional brow.

It’s not hard to understand what he really means, and Shoyo feels his cheeks warm from flustered surprise. “Fine, fine…you can have first shower if you take care of checkout!”

Tobio rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“And you can carry me back!”

Tobio doesn’t deign to respond. He just silently drops Shoyo’s hand and starts jogging towards the exit, leaving Shoyo laughing and running after him.

🏛️

After the hastiest shower and checkout either of them have pulled off, the couple take a taxi to Piraeus Harbor and hurry to their afternoon ferry to Santorini.

“Holy shit,” Shoyo gasps, collapsing into his seat. “We should never cut it that close again.”

“Right, I’ll note that down for our next ferry from Athens to Santorini,” Tobio snorts.

Shoyo swats at his arm before turning his attention to the window. Outside, the Aegean Sea churns against the side of the boat, battering it just enough to make it rock side to side. “I hope the sea’s not too rough.”

“We’re supposed to have clear skies today,” Tobio hums, leaning to look at the sea over Shoyo’s shoulder. “Even if it does get bad, the ride’s less than 5 hours. You’ll nap through the whole thing.”

“No, I won’t!” Shoyo protests. He nudges Tobio away with his shoulder so he can turn and frown at him. “This is my first time on a big boat like this! I’m not gonna fall asleep on it!”

🏛️

He falls asleep within the first hour of departure, and blinks awake to the sound of Tobio’s soft snores at his ear. He doesn’t want to sit up and rouse his husband, so he digs out his phone and brings it to his face to check the time.

Three hours passed. Which means they’re almost to Santorini. Which means Shoyo did, in fact, sleep through the trip. Oops.

The entire time that they disembark on Santorini and take a taxi to their hotel, Tobio is wearing a sleepy, satisfied smirk that is both infuriating and sexy. Shoyo can’t look at him for too long without nearly being overwhelmed by the urge to either shove or kiss him.

Both urges are forgotten when they step into their villa.

“Woahhhh!” Shoyo cries, dropping his bag unceremoniously at the foot of the king-sized bed. He at least remembers himself enough to drop it to the floor, keeping the crisp, white sheets clean, before he runs through the white, cave-like space and out onto the balcony. “Tobi, there’s a bed out here,” he calls back, “and a pool! Look, the pool goes inside, that’s so cool!”

“Dumbass, quit shouting,” Tobio hisses from the door.

“Why? Look at this place, we’re aaaaaall alone!” He’s not exactly wrong. The honeymoon villa is set apart from the rest of the hotel, offering almost-complete privacy while still presenting stunning views of Santorini’s caldera. After the afternoon ferry ride, the taxi ride to the hotel, and a hasty dinner, it’s already evening, with the horizon starting to turn orange and the rest of the sky dancing between a lavender purple and gauzy blue. It’s beautiful, and Shoyo is excited for the dinners and breakfasts they’ll share with an orange sky that week.

But the sunset can wait. Right now, he’s more interested in continuing to explore. He scurries back into the bedroom, oohing and aahing at the door leading directly from the bedroom to the infinity pool, then at the couch built into the wall, before he’s brought up short by the window above the couch. He hadn’t noticed before, because the space beyond is darker than the rest of the bright villa, but the window looks directly into—

“That’ll be a view,” Tobio remarks, resting a knee on the couch to peer into the huge shower. The listing online said the rain shower doubles as a steam room, but Shoyo’s still startled by how big it is.

“Just a view?” Shoyo hums with a coy smile. “Noooothing else?”

His skin immediately warms beneath the smirk Tobio pins him under. “We just got here and you’re already getting ideas?”

“I told you, that’s what honeymoons are for!”

“Uh-huh.”

Shoyo pokes him in the ribs and quickly dances away from his grabbing hands and into the bathroom. It’s nice, all glittering white tile, but the true prize is in the back: an indoor plunge pool, surrounded by black stone and lit by tiny lights around the water. Broad steps lead into the depths, and the pool fills almost the whole dark cavern, apart from a little ledge next to the steps. It’s probably meant for drinks or candles, but a thrill shudders through Shoyo at the thought of what else they can use it for.

“Hey, Tobi,” he murmurs, already sensing his husband behind him before his arms snake around his waist.

“Hm?”

“I think we’re in paradise.”

“Mm.” Soft lips brush over the line of Shoyo’s tank top against his shoulder. “What should we do first in paradise?”

Shoyo flashes a roguish grin over his shoulder. “We should get naked.”

“…Dunno why I asked.”

“C’mon!” Shoyo snickers, nudging Tobio away and towards the shower. “We just spent the whole day on a ferry! Don’t you feel gross?”

“I don’t think what you have in mind will help with that.”

“Shut up! Are you calling me gross?!”

“You said it, not me.”

“Fine,” Shoyo scoffs as he tugs off his own clothes. “I’ll just take a shower alllll myself, and you can watch through the window.”

He doesn’t have to look at Tobio to know he’s wearing his annoyed little frown, but he does feel a little disheartened when he doesn’t hear any clothes rustling or bare footsteps following him into the shower.

Then he turns the water on, and suddenly he’s yelping from fingers digging into his side. “Ow, you asshole!”

He whirls around to glare at Tobio, only to falter at the sight of him standing naked with their shower toiletries bag in his hand. “You forgot this. Dumbass.”

“No, I didn’t,” Shoyo sniffs. “I’m going into the plunge pool after this, I can just use the hotel shower gel.”

Tobio blinks. “…Oh.”

He looks so startled and pouty, Shoyo can’t resist pulling him down for a quick kiss. “But thanks! Now they’ll be ready for when we get out of the pool!”

“Who says I’m going in with you?” Shoyo just raises his brows and smirks, earning delightfully pink cheeks in response. “…Shut up.”

The shower is distinctly Not Sexy—somehow, by some unspoken agreement, they decide to race to be done and in the pool first, resulting in record-time showers and wet feet slapping across the tile floor to the plunge pool. Shoyo wins, but only because he nearly slips on the wet tiles, distracting Tobio with an attempt to catch him before he wipes out. “Woah, careful— oi!”

Shoyo catches himself, zooms to the dark pool room, and hoots as soon as he steps into the water on a submerged stair. “I win!”

“You cheater!”

“Who’re you calling a cheater?” Shoyo gasps in mock scandal, wading down the stairs until he can push off into the standing part of the pool. “I nearly died!”

“Yeah, and you didn’t, because I stopped and saved you.”

“I caught myself! I didn’t ask you to help!”

“Fine, next time I’ll just let my husband crack his head on the floor!”

Shoyo grins up at where Tobio is still standing in the entrance. He’s backlit by the bright lights of the bathroom, while the blue lights of the pool room throw his features and the contours of his body in sharply-contrasted light and shadow. He looks beautiful, ethereal, even with that stupid pout on his lips.

Shoyo’s stomach swoops low in his belly. “Are you gonna keep whining,” he murmurs, his soft voice echoing in the small cavern, “or are you gonna come here?”

Even in the dim light, Shoyo can see Tobio’s eyes darken before he starts taking slow steps towards him. The water comes up around Shoyo’s shoulders, but only rises to just below Tobio’s pecs, almost presenting the plush muscle like a meal. The light shining through the blue water makes his dark eyes flash, sending a shudder down Shoyo’s spine.

He looks surreal, like a god rising from the water, and Shoyo suddenly understands how the mortals of myths could be seduced by the divine.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been standing there and staring at Tobio until his husband mutters, “What?”

“Huh?”

“Why’re you staring at me?”

“Oh…” Shoyo smirks, trying to distract from the flush warming his cheeks. “I was just thinking—”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to compliment you!” Shoyo laughs, splashing at Tobio. “Do you want to hear it, or not?”

“Fine, fine,” Tobio sighs, easily blocking the small splash.

“I was thinking,” Shoyo starts again, wading towards him, “maybe it was unfair of us to get married.”

“This is a weird compliment.”

With a snicker, Shoyo winds his arms around Tobio’s trim waist and smiles, fluttering his lashes. “Don’t you think it’s unfair? That I’m keeping the sexiest setter in the world aaaaalll to myself?”

Tobio’s guarded confusion melts with his scoff, replaced by a small, fond smile. “People have eyes,” he reminds Shoyo in that flat, matter-of-fact voice, “they can still look at me.” His hands cup Shoyo’s jaw, tracing a thumb along the curve of his lips. “And since when have you lost sleep over being greedy?”

“Are you calling me greedy for loving you?!”

“Yeah. I’m greedy, too.” Tobio leans in, lets their lips ghost together. “I’m the only one who can enjoy Ninja Shoyo’s moves off the court.”

“Yeah…wanna see what he can do in the pool?”

“Only if you stop referring to yourself in third person.”

Surprised laughter bursts from Shoyo, made louder by the echo in the cavern. But Tobio doesn’t flinch with surprise or ask him to be quiet. He just lets out his own, much-softer laughter and watches Shoyo with a heartachingly fond expression. In the midst of his laughter, Shoyo is aware of Tobio’s hands moving over his body, one stroking down his spine and the other sliding past his hip. Tobio bends down to curve that hand around Shoyo’s thigh and hoist it up, forcing Shoyo to move his own hands from Tobio’s waist to his shoulders. He’s more than happy to hold on when Tobio lifts his leg around his hip, holding him up as he presses him to the wall of the plunge pool.

As he moves, he carefully keeps his lips just out of reach of Shoyo’s, only letting their noses brush and their breaths bead on their cheeks in the steaming air. “Tobio,” Shoyo whispers, wrapping his other leg around him and pulling him even closer, “kiss me.”

“No.” Tobio’s eyes are intense, making Shoyo somehow feel even more naked and exposed as they slowly drag across his face. “I want to see you.”

“See me?”

Tobio hums. With the water carrying most of Shoyo’s weight, he can let go of his leg and trail his fingers up his thigh, along his waist, and to his chest, where he draws circles closing in on Shoyo’s nipple.

“Oh,” Shoyo sighs, trembling from anticipation and the cold, wet spirals Tobio traces. “T-Tobio, we can’t…in the pool…it’ll be gross.”

“I know,” Tobio chuckles, eyes still fixed on Shoyo’s fluttering lashes. “I’m just getting you ready for the shower.”

“The shower—? Ah!” With all his attention fixed on Tobio’s wet fingertips, Shoyo’s not ready for the glancing lick at his other nipple.

Tobio hums again, this time with his lips brushing Shoyo’s skin. “I want to fuck your thighs.”

A shudder runs up Shoyo’s spine, but not without a surprised laugh. “Seriously?”

Tobio pulls away with a frown. “What?”

“We haven’t done that since high school.” Sure, they’d tried it a few times, but once they both got up the courage to actually fuck, thighs were quickly abandoned in favor for ass.

“Yeah, because we never had a shower big enough to fuck in,” Tobio reminds him. He’s not wrong—even with their professional athlete salaries, the most they’ve been able to do without risking twisting an ankle were hand and blow jobs.

“Aw,” Shoyo mutters with a pout, “I wanted to ride you in there. Brought waterproof lube and everything.”

Tobio mutters a low curse, emphasizing it with a featherlight bite at Shoyo’s nipple. Shoyo keens and tries to curve away from Tobio’s mouth, but a hand slips around his back and keeps him arched forward. “Next time,” Tobio mutters, soothing his nipple with a wide-tongued lick, “you horndog.”

“Takes one to know one,” Shoyo retorts, before sighing at the kisses Tobio brushes across his skin. “Tobi…”

“What?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

“Nope.” Tobio grins up at Shoyo’s pout. “But you can touch me.”

Shoyo knew that, of course he knew that, but brushing his fingertips over the sharp line of Tobio’s collarbones isn’t the same as sucking a mark into the curve.

Still, with Tobio so intent on keeping his eyes on him, Shoyo has to make do with stroking up the back of his neck, sinking his fingers into black hair, and tugging just enough to wring a moan from his husband. “Touch me more,” he whispers, tugging again until Tobio meets his eye. “C’mon, you’re missing a spot.”

“A spot?” Tobio echoes with a raised brow. “Is that what you’re calling this?”

Suddenly, without warning, he reaches down and wraps his calloused fingers around Shoyo’s cock. The novelty of being naked in a private pool and being caressed by his husband has already made it begin rising in interest, but the first brush of Tobio’s fingertips is what makes it fully strain from Shoyo’s body.

“Ah, yes!!” Shoyo cries out, rocking into Tobio’s touch as well as he can without making his legs slip from his hips.

“Feels like a little more than a spot,” Tobio remarks, as casually as though he were commenting on the weather.

“Shut up,” Shoyo laughs breathlessly, words immediately melting into another moan. “Don’t make me want to fuck you.”

“Too late, I called dibs.”

“Dibs—?! Mmh!” Shoyo’s glare feels weak on his flushed, lustful features, but he pins Tobio under it anyway.

“Dibs,” Tobio confirms. “I still have to make up for last night.”

A jolt sparks up Shoyo’s spine as he bites his lip, feeling somehow even more exposed under Tobio’s heavy-lidded gaze. It’s a silly feeling—it’s not as if Tobio doesn’t already know and accept everything about him. The reminder feels warm and soft spreading through Shoyo, even as it tangled around the electric desire zipping in his veins.

“You keep staring at me weird.” The grumble snaps Shoyo out of his horny daze, and he finds Tobio staring at him with eyes that speak of more fondness than real annoyance.

“I just— nnh, I love you. So much.”

All the amused, fond annoyance slides off of Tobio’s face, leaving only the most tender, heart aching adoration pooling behind those eyes. Shoyo only gets to enjoy it for a breath, before Tobio leans forward and finally, finally kisses him. “Me, too, Sho,” he breathes between kisses. “Fuck, I want you. Can we shower? Please?”

“You sound so hot when you beg, Your Highness.” Shoyo slides his arms around Tobio’s shoulders, brushing their noses together and making Tobio’s angry retort die in the breath between their lips. “Carry me?”

“You little princess.” Tobio’s grumble is accompanied by his arms tightening around Shoyo and holding his leg against his hip as he begins moving out of the pool.

“Yeah? Are you my little prince, then?”

Annoyance flashes across Tobio’s face, leaving Shoyo unprepared for his quiet, “I could be. If you wanted.”

I can be anything you want me to be. The sentiment is loud in his shy words, and Shoyo wonders once again at the fact that he gets to be so loved by a man so stubborn and strong and incredible.

He shakes his head, dipping in for a kiss. “No,” he whispers, “I don’t want you to be anything but yourself.”

“Sap.”

An unflattering snort escapes Shoyo just as Tobio catches his lips again and reduces him to soft sighs and moans. He’s lowered to the cool tile floor before he hears fumbling at the tap for the shower. The cold spray shocks a gasp from Shoyo, but he still clings stubbornly to his husband and steals as many kisses as he can. “Dumbass, back up,” Tobio grouches against his lips, as though his voice isn’t shaking from laughter. “We can’t wash like this.”

“Can’t. Want you too bad.”

“Is that Japanese?”

“Are you gonna shut up and fuck me, or not?”

“Bossy dumbass.”

When Shoyo gasps again, it’s from their hard lengths rubbing against each other, slipping on the soap that Tobio drips down their bodies. After Tobio’s wandering lips and stroking fingers in the plunge pool, Shoyo’s patience is frayed. He’s had enough of teasing touches. He wants skin on skin, wants to feel every callous on those perfect hands over his body.

And Tobio’s not giving him that. He slides his soap-slippery hands along the lines of his body, depriving him of the slight bite of his callouses, and when he finally does dip below his hips, it’s only to trail his fingertips along Shoyo’s length. Shoyo’s breath hiccups in his chest from the stifled anticipation, and he just barely keeps a whine choked back in his throat.

Unfortunately for him, Tobio knows him better than anyone in the world, down to the sound of him stifling his own moans. “You okay?” he asks, with a smirk that betrays how smug the question actually is.

“I won’t be if you don’t touch me.”

“I am touching you.” Slippery fingers slide back down his cock and trace the curves of his balls, making him gasp and press to his toes. “What about you? You’re not touching me.”

Shoyo glares at Tobio, before leaning up again and catching his lips at the same time he wraps his hand around his cock. Tobio’s gasp is sweet on Shoyo’s tongue, tasting like honey as he traces the inner curve of his lips. Tobio chases his tongue back into his own mouth, taking the chance to stroke his palate and nip at his lip in retaliation. It’s messy and competitive and fills Shoyo with so, so much love that simmers over the ever-present flame of competition.

When Tobio pulls away, Shoyo shivers under his heavy gaze and the sound of his rough voice ordering, “Turn around and hold on.”

“What’s the magic word?” Shoyo asks cheekily.

An exasperated grin cracks at the haze of arousal over Tobio’s face as he leans in, nudges their noses together, and murmurs, “Turn around and hold on, dumbass.”

Shoyo’s surprised laugh is muffled by another kiss before he finally obeys the hands pushing at his hips and turns around. His own hands fall on a bar above the numerous taps and dials in the shower, right at his eyeline and the perfect height for his head to loll between his arms when he moans from Tobio’s hand on his cock. “Hah…”

“Keep your legs closed,” Tobio murmurs at his ear, fitting his legs on either side of Shoyo’s thighs. Shoyo does so, only for a large hand to press between his thighs and slide up to cup his balls. He doesn’t get a chance to press into the touch, because the hand quickly slides away to be replaced by—

“Mm, that’s it,” Tobio hisses. His cock is slippery between Shoyo’s thighs, and sublime against his length. Shoyo is viscerally reminded of why they’d taken so long to properly fuck—sure, anal was intimidating to two virginal high schoolers, but more importantly, it was so much work to go through when tight, slippery thighs worked just as well.

Or so they’d thought. Now they know the perfect squeeze off a hole and the overwhelming pleasure of a cock against a prostate. But this, the nudge of Tobio’s thick cockhead against the vein under Shoyo’s dick paired with Tobio’s hand closing around Shoyo’s tip…there’s a special type of hasty pleasure in this, too.

“Hey, Tobi,” Shoyo gasps, words cracking on a moan.

“Hm?”

“Remember when we did this after Nationals?”

“Fuck.” His forehead falls on Shoyo’s shoulder, startling another laugh from him. “Still can’t believe you convinced me to do that.”

“Like you weren’t into it.” Shoyo presses his hips back and smirks when the hand on his waist slips down to squeeze at his ass.

“You’re hard to say no to.” Tobio pulls at his asscheek and leans back. The realization that he wants a peek at Shoyo’s hole makes him eagerly tighten up, coaxing a groan when Tobio sees it wink at him. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

“It’s your fault we’re not,” Shoyo points out, rocking forward to remind him to pump his hand.

Maybe it’s being in such a large, steaming shower. Maybe it’s the desperation implicit in Tobio’s desire to fuck his thighs. Maybe it’s the combination of precome and soap and water slicking Tobio’s hand around both their lengths. Whatever it is, the combined handjob feels better, more potent, than it has any right to be, and the drag of Tobio’s cock between his asscheeks makes him whine from how much he wishes he were thrusting in him. “Tobio…Tobio, please…”

“Hm?”

“More.”

“Greedy. Hold still.”

Shoyo’s ready to disobey, until he realizes why Tobio gave the direction: the hand at Shoyo’s ass traces back up his body, bumping up the lines of his abs, before sliding under the curve of his strong chest.

Shoyo never gave much thought to his chest before he and Tobio rekindled their romance. The new, strong swell of his pectorals was just another part of the way his body had grown and broadened with his training. Tobio was quick to change that view, always spoiling his chest with squeezes and licks and bites.

Now he drags his hand across the muscular expanse, letting his callouses catch ever-so-slightly on his nipples along the way and tugging soft moans from Shoyo. “How’s this?” Tobio gruffs as he circles his fingertips around Shoyo’s nipple again.

“Good,” Shoyo breathes, “but more.”

His greed is answered with a rough thrust between his thighs, making him whimper from the pressure along the underside of his cock and the texture of Tobio’s trimmed hair against his slick ass. “Better?”

“More!”

There’s a soft swear, before Tobio’s hand tightens around Shoyo’s tip. Shoyo whimpers from the sweet pressure, but then Tobio slows his pumping down, tugging at Shoyo in almost-lazy pulls. “Tobi, c’mon.”

“No,” Tobio grunts, biting at the curve of Shoyo’s shoulder. “Stop rushing and enjoy it, dumbass. We’ve got time.”

Shoyo whines, but bites his lip against more whines, trying to listen to his husband. Something about the water makes him feel everything so much more, and the languid pace lets him soak in every sensation: Tobio’s expert pumps at his straining cock, the delicious slide of their lengths on each other, the way his ass cushions against Tobio’s rocking hips, the glancing circles and pinches and flicks at his nipples, and, most potent of all, the soft lips and gentle teeth kissing and nipping the curve of his neck.

His gasps for air slow into deep breaths that carry soft moans on every exhale. Arousal doesn’t prickle at him anymore. It spreads, syrupy and molten and delicious, from Tobio’s hands through Shoyo’s whole body. When it begins to crest, Shoyo feels every bit of the rise, his nerves coiling with anticipation as though he were on the slow ascent of a rollercoaster.

“Tobio,” he breathes, his head falling back against Tobio’s body. “Tobio, please—”

“M’close, Sho,” Tobio groans in reply, catching his earlobe between his teeth with a light tug. “Fuck, you feel good.”

Shoyo can’t help snickering. “Really? My thighs feel that good?”

“All of you feels good,” Tobio grunts.

He punctuates his gruff praise with quick pumps at Shoyo’s cockhead, pulling a surprised, unraveled cry from him. “Ah, you, too!”

“Gonna come.”

Shoyo presses his thighs tighter against each other, and is rewarded with a moan. “Then come.”

There’s one last groan, before Tobio suddenly clutches Shoyo’s hips back against his and presses his chest to his back. His hips stutter against Shoyo as his cock kicks between his thighs, splattering come under his shaft and against the smooth, dark brown stone of the shower. He keeps pumping at Shoyo, though the rhythm stutters just a bit, and his hand mixes his own release into the slippery mix already undoing Shoyo.

“Oh, fuck,” Shoyo gasps, looking down to watch the milky whiteness spreading on his cock, “shit, Tobio, that’s so hot.”

“Good.” Tobio’s dick begins to soften, eventually slipping out from between Shoyo’s thighs and leaving his balls free for his hand to dip down and cup them. Shoyo keens at the featherlight pressure, feeling them wind tight as if in response. He was close, he was so close, he just needed—

“Come on.” That hand returns to his cockhead and begins pumping urgently, making Shoyo’s lips fall open with a wrecked moan. “Come for me, Sho.”

Finally, after who knew how long, Shoyo felt himself begin to teeter over the edge. “Unh—” His orgasm didn’t explode so much as overflow in him, making him feel as if pleasure were pressing at his skin. “Ah, ngh, Tobio—”

He blindly reaches behind him and sinks his fingers into smooth strands, using his hold to pull Tobio into a clumsy kiss at an awkward angle. He doesn’t care. He just needs to moan his orgasm into his husband’s mouth, and Tobio seems more than happy to oblige. He doesn’t stop tugging at Shoyo’s dick, like he’s determined to get every bit of come out of him, until Shoyo grabs at his wrist to still him. “S-stop,” he stutters.

“Sorry.”

Shoyo lets out a soft hum of protest, craning his neck to brush a kiss to Tobio’s cheek. It feels warm under his lips, and the warmth matches the bashfulness in Tobio's voice when he asks, “...Was that good?”

“Of course it was,” Shoyo laughs with another kiss. “Buuuuut…”

“But?”

“It’s still not as good as you fucking me.” Shoyo turns into Tobio’s arms just in time to see his face practically catch fire.

“Not…not now, dumbass,” Tobio mumbles.

“Why? We’re all clean now.”

“Yeah, and we woke up early. I’m tired.”

A light flick at Shoyo’s forehead makes him cringe away. “Fine, fine…You owe me tomorrow!”

Tobio snorts. “Sure. Can we go to bed, now?”

Shoyo rolls his eyes, but gently nudges Tobio into sitting on one of the broad, seat-like stairs set against the shower’s window, and uses his lowered position to properly rinse him down, head to toe. Tobio follows the pressure of his hands easily and wilts under the warm water, resting his head against Shoyo’s stomach and letting a hand trace through the downy hair of his thigh. When Shoyo announces “Done!” and slides the shower head back into place, Tobio kisses his abs and blinks up at him with a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“Geez, you really are sleepy,” Shoyo laughs. He gently brushes Tobio’s wet hair out of his eyes, smiling at the slow flutter of his lashes. “Sleepy-yama.”

His point is only proved when Tobio just hums instead of grumbling a protest at the nickname. Where yesterday, he had been the one to lead them through cleaning up for bed, he now slouches over Shoyo like a weighted blanket, nuzzling into his neck and draping his arms around his waist while Shoyo does his best to towel off. “Tobio, move,” he laughs.

“No. You didn’t.”

“I’m not a big heavy giant!”

“Like you have a problem with that.”

Shoyo just huffs as he tries to shuffle to the bed. Once he reaches the end, he maneuvers around until Tobio’s the one leaning against it, and mutters, “If you don’t let go, I’m gonna make you fall and crash on top of you.”

There’s a long, low groan, before Tobio finally straightens up and crawls onto the bed by himself. Shoyo doesn’t follow him, happy to watch with a grin as he trundles around like a drunken bear, and his heart melts when Tobio rests against the pillows, pouts at Shoyo, and reaches for him with honest-to-goodness grabby hands.

“Awww, Tobi,” Shoyo coos, quickly moving across the bed and curling into Tobio’s side. “Why’re you so cute when you’re sleepy?”

“M’not cute,” Tobio sighs. His arms wrap around Shoyo and pull him even closer, letting the curves of their bodies slot together like puzzle pieces as he buries his nose in his hair. “M’just sleepy.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Oh. Whatever.”

Shoyo snickers into the warm skin of his chest. “Go to sleep, you big baby.”

Tobio grunts in protest, but then, with one last kiss pressed to Shoyo’s hair, his breaths even out and his body relaxes against Shoyo.

He can’t think too hard about the fact that he’ll get a lifetime of nights like this. A lifetime of sleepy grunts and clingy cuddles and clumsy kisses. If he dwells on it, he knows he’ll burst into happy tears, and he doesn’t want to wake Tobio up for something so stupid.

He knows luck isn’t the only thing that got him here—his own hard work made it all possible. But as he lies there, breathing in the comforting smell of Tobio’s freshly-washed skin and holding on tight despite the balmy air of the Greek islands, Shoyo still feels pretty certain that he’s the luckiest man in the whole wide world.

10 notes · View notes

the-frozen-pheonix · 8 months

Note

Nauseous

First impressions matter a collection of meet cutes and meet uglys from yours truly. (add a “swap” to swap the sender/receiver in the prompt (or just do it manually).)

Nauseous, sender is drunk, and while receiver is attempting to help them, ends up throwing up all over receiver's shoes.

Green and Greener

Freeze didn’t mind drinking-he encouraged it actually, but when he’d recommended Autumn stop and drink some water, it had been because he knew it wasn’t going to end well with the way she’d been pounding back the deceptively strong drinks. His ‘I told you so’ moment came after the fight had ended, but before the unconscious black out had happened. Lord knew if she would remember the whole eve though.

Walking from the pub the two had ended the eve at, the male couldn’t help but reflect on their time together. It was as though time had lost its affect on their bond. She was a normal part of his life at this point, and he hoped it stayed that way. Too often he found himself despairing-so he snapped himself out of it to enjoy the moment.

The green-haired mercenaries arm was sling over his shoulder, and he was hunched over, walking a little awkwardly to help her go. She seemed barely awake, but even as she was... Hair wet with drunk-sweat, and wreaking of booze and whatever else from the others. Her mouth agape and eyes unevenly opened, staring at nothing-body heavy on his own tired walk… liquid up and suddenly erupting from her corpse-like daze, onto his shoes and the sidewalk beneath them. Once. Twice. Thrice. He just held her up, and sighed-not gagging not twitching at the sight and stench that currently covered their lower halves… even in her current state, he found her to be a sight immaculate…

“Green and Greener.” He mumbled to himself as the two finally made it to a hotel. A gentle kiss to the temple of his bodyguard as they entered certain dwellings. “Silly Green-bean.” He murmur softly.

Struggling into the room, he leaned miss barely awake on the wall as he took note of their current state-nasty. After a moment of thought, he grumbled and blushed fiercely as he spoke a bit loudly to garner Autumn’s attention. “Strip. We’re showering.” Being drunk and passed out was miserable, but less so when clean and not covered in sweat… that, and he wasn’t tolerating such filth as he slept-regardless if she was on the bed beside him or on the floor.

He would not be sure if the importance he took to keep his eyes, averted and body separate from autumn would go appreciated as he made sure the two of them were properly rinsed, but he knew she’d appreciate the water and gum when she awoke-and hopefully the large fluffy blanket she was wrapped in as well.

#autumn the punk #ask answered.#ask answered

5 notes · View notes

peterpanfromlemonland · 1 year

Text

Don't Hyde From Me (ch. 7 Whispers in The Dark)

TW/CW: Fluff, childhood trauma, escaping a cult, child abuse, warm bath time.

A/N: Đẹp trai = very handsome/beautiful in vietnamese

Don't Hyde From Me Chapters

Tyler set the girl down on the sinktop, starting a nice warm bath for the both of them, Hoa gently kicked her in the air as they dangled off the sinktop. She watched his every move patiently before remembering she had something special for bath time, she uttered a sound to notify the boy to wait before filling up the whole tub as she pulled out pink bath bomb from the drawer. Strawberry scented. Tyler couldn’t help but chuckle softly, kissing her forehead as he took the bath fizzer from her hands, “You’re so cute.” He sighed to himself as he dropped the bath bomb into the hot water. The two of them were watching as it fizzed and bubbled, the bathroom soon filling up with the scent of fresh strawberries as the steam from the hot water clouded every centimeter in sight. Tyler grabbed the strawberry scented soap and poured a generous amount into the now pink liquid, the tub filling with an insane amount of bubbles.

Once he had gotten the water to the perfect temperature he turned the water off and gently eased the girl in the bath after the bath bomb had fizzed its last breath, Hoa gasped at the sudden warmth that hit her skin- she could almost fall asleep like this, almost. She sank down in relaxation while the boy made his way into the water, the both of them taking a moment to soak and relax their muscles as the steam clouded the space around them. Hoa was so quiet that Tyler thought she had fallen asleep, he’d hope she hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Princess?” He whispered, afraid he might wake her. The girl let out a mumble to alert him that she was still conscious and in the present, he sighed in relief as he relaxed in the water, “Thought you fell asleep on me.”

“Almost.” She mumbled, “Warm baths make me sleepy.” He could hear an audible yawn leaving her lips, he smiled. She offered to wash his hair and scrub all the sweat and dirt off him, he obliged and positioned himself so that his back was facing her. The girl grabbed a sponge and some soap, dunked the sponge in water and started to scrub away the grime and filth from his back- it felt nice. The warm water cascading down his skin as she massaged his back was heavenly. Every now and then Hoa would plant tiny little kisses along his spine, praising him in a mixture of Vietnamese and English. Granted, Tyler had no idea what the Vietnamese meant, but it sounded nice.

“Đẹp trai.” She muttered under her breath as her lips hovered over his shoulder, he hummed in response as she snaked her arm around his body to scrub his abdomen. He traced her arm with his fingers, enjoying the warmth of the water and her gentle touch. Once she was finished scrubbing his body she notified him that she was going to be doing his hair next, his eyes closed in bliss as he hummed in agreement. Hoa cupped some water in her hands and poured it all over Tyler’s caramel colored curls, watching as they flattened and straightened out once they came into contact with water. Tyler closed his eyes and hummed in content as she massaged his scalp, she was humming something- a lullaby of sorts- he wasn’t paying attention, he was somewhere between consciousness and sleep.

“Close your eyes.” She mumbled and the boy obeyed, warm bubbly water cascaded down each and every one of his curls. His bangs drooped over his eyes like a curtain hiding the actors on stage, his mind filled with fond memories he had of his childhood; bubble baths and pretending Godzilla was out to attack the town of Jericho, curling up by the fireplace and listening to his mother read him stories of princes and princesses in lands far far away. He was at peace, something he hadn’t felt in ages.

“Hoa?” He spoke once she finished rinsing his hair, “Don’t ever leave me?” His voice was filled with worry, fear, afraid that they’d take her away from him. That they’d take this away from him. He turned to face her, eyes misted with tears

“I promise you,” she massaged his shoulders, “That won’t happen anytime soon.” A small smile crawled across her face as she patted his cheek. The boy smiled back as he directed her to turn around so he could scrub her down next, without hesitation she did so. Her long hair covering a majority of her backside, Tyler chuckled as he ran a hand through her hair; making sure to soak it in water beforehand. He took the sponge from the girl and pushed her hair to the side to start scrubbing, that’s when he noticed it. A mark on her back close to her neck, no, a scar. It was faded but still visible to the naked eye if you looked close enough; the image of a dragon inside a circle. That wasn’t the only scar on her back; it was as if she had been burned, slashed, and stitched back up again like some fucked up version of Frankenstein’s monster.

When she didn’t feel his hands on her back she grew concerned, “Did you fall asleep?” She tilted her head, Tyler hummed in response while his fingers traced the scar on the back of her neck. Her posture changed as she suddenly remembered where it came from.

“Are you alright?” Tyler asked as he started to scrub the girl’s back, “Where did this come from? What is it even?”

“The mark of the deserter.” Hoa replied coldly, “Basically classic Bui Clan torture.”

“Bui Clan?” Tyler tilted his head, “Your brother mentioned them before. Who are they?”

The Bui Clan was the family Hoa’s mother was born into, a well known clan in the heart of Saigon. The Bui’s were known for their torture methods, inhumane actions and blood lust. Those who managed to escape the Bui Clan either married into other families or changed their names, Hoa’s mother was one of those people. The Bui were split between corruption and honesty, there were some good in the clan but more bad. Soon enough the honest left the family altogether. When the twins were born Hoa’s mother, Ha Bui, returned to the Bui’s when her husband went off to fight in the war overseas. Both parents weren’t too excited to be asking help from the Bui Clan but situations were not in their favor.

Hoa and Quan had very few memories of their father before he shipped off to war, the man was kind and gentle and had stories to tell the two for ages. But who knew when the man would ever come home. The twins spent their childhood in the Saigon District of Southern California, where they learned to strengthen and use their powers to the fullest. Quan was always the favorite of the Bui Clan, he did inherit all the traits of a perfect Bui. Hoa was the outcast. She wasn’t a vampiric shifter like the rest of them, no, she inherited outsider’s blood. She was the black sheep of the family.

“You know,” the girl held her legs close to her chest as Tyler slowly ran the soapy sponge down her back, “I was always the one looking out for Quan when we were kids. ‘Take care of your little brother!’ Or ‘Take your brother with you!’ always came from mom whenever I wanted to go out and play.”

It was when Hoa was 5 years old, she got that burn mark on the back of her neck. She was branded like cattle. All because she wasn’t like the rest. Her brother and mother were forced to watch as the elders of Bui took the hot branding iron from the embers and seared the Seal of the Deserter on her flesh. She could still feel the hot searing pain on her skin.

“Dad didn’t come home from overseas until a year later.” Her gaze never left the water, “Boy was he pissed when he heard the news.”

Hoa and her family tried to leave Bui but it was difficult. The elders had already taken a liking to the children and the family wasn’t allowed to leave until the rites of passage had been done and over with. The cruel tradition where children were put on display and forced to hunt the runt of the litter. This was something Hoa was not ready to talk about and it was obvious by the way she was shaking underneath Tyler’s touch, the boy wrapped his arms around her, letting her know that she didn’t have to keep talking about this memory as he continued scrubbing.

“Sorry,” was all she could mutter, “Didn’t mean to get a panic attack there.”

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he rinsed off her back before he scrubbed the front of her body. “I was the one who asked about something you’re not ready to talk about yet.” She forgave him. She would always forgive him. Once the scrubbing of the hair was finished Hoa started draining the tub before she started the shower up, the two of them just sat there naken with their knees to their chests. It was awkward, but they’d rather have these moments than bad ones. They both agreed to take a nap once they were clean and dry.

“I have to speak to the principal tomorrow.” Hoa said as they were drying off, Tyler froze in his spot but he wasn’t scared. No, he had trust and faith in Hoa, he knew she would get all of them to see that he wasn’t a threat. He was calm. “I’m going to ask him if we can finally get those restraints off of you for good.”

“Hoa, that’s,” he was at a loss for words, “That’s great! I- um- thank you. I mean it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Barista Boy. If I fuck this up then we’ll both be in hot water.”

“Easy,” he smiled as wide as the cheshire cat, “Don’t fuck it up.” She rolled her eyes and gently punched his shoulder before sliding her shirt on. Tyler went to wait outside whilst the girl dried her hair, the boy could do with some fresh air. He stepped onto the balcony, the cold spring air crawling up his spine causing goosebumps to form on every inch of skin exposed. It was a nice afternoon, there was still snow- albeit it was now a muddy slush- but if you looked closely you could see tiny flower buds poking their heads out into the world. Tyler made a mental note to himself that once the flowers had fully bloomed he should pick some for Hoa. But in that instant, the boy saw something that had been haunting his dreams for months. Something he’d wish he’d never have to see again. Her. At least, he thought it was her. A familiar shadow lurked in the courtyard of campus, peering up at him, Laurel?

He squinted to get a better look but the shadowy figure walked off before he could make out an identity. No, she couldn’t be alive. His heart raced in fear, if she were alive what did she want? Why was she here? Has she been watching him? If so, how long had she been here? Questions swirled inside the poor boy’s head, soon those questions turned to fear, what would she do to Hoa? He was scared of what Laurel was capable of, what Hoa was capable of. He snaked his leg over the balcony, his body was moving on its own without his command, his worst fear became a reality. She still had control over him, he hated it.

“Barista boy?” Hoa’s voice broke him out of his trance, “What are you doing?” A semi concerned look plastered on his face. To say that the boy was relieved to see her would be an understatement, he knew the current position he was in was quite concerning but nonetheless he quickly made his way over to her and wrapped his arms around the girl tightly.

“Hoa,” his voice shaking as he spoke, “Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

“Okay…?” The girl was too tired to question his behavior any further, “Let’s just take a nap.”

“That would be great.”

#tyler galpin x oc #wednesday fic #wednesday addams #fluff and angst and smut #tyler galpin

22 notes · View notes

erabundus · 1 year

Text

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — an AU collaboration with @custosavis

the conqueror of demons is finally, truly dying, and only he knows it.

and what a tragedy that is, the balladeer thinks. he gazes upon this beautiful, broken creature — this yaksha, ravaged by debt, stained in blood, used and discarded by those he held dear, and glimpses a reflection of himself in his SUFFERING. for what are they both, if not victims of a world that has turned their pain into profit? a world that has long ignored their cries out of its own selfish convenience? it awakens faint stirrings of an EMPATHY he thought long dead. inspires righteous indignation on another's behalf. he may be his mother's child, but he will not follow in her sins.

instead of abandoning the adeptus to his fate, kunikuzushi offers him a HAND. the words he speaks, though honeyed and rife with intent, are from a place of honesty. what has your god done, but leave you to carry the weight of a nation upon your shoulders? if he truly LOVED you, why has he allowed his child to break, decay, drown in a sea of blood drawn at his behest? why hasn't he tried to fix you? why? why? why? perhaps because, in this new era of HUMANITY, he thinks it more convenient to let this long suffering relic of the past disappear — and what reward is that for his eons of service and loyalty? ( that isn't love. that isn't love. that isn't love. )

all gods need followers ... and the divinity meant to be his birthright is now within his grasp. ( let me show you what miracles may be spun by a god who actually cares. )

the conqueror of demons becomes his first, his most loyal, his right hand.

from that moment, they are inseparable. xiao is his shadow, the wings upon his back. he speaks to him in a delirious haze as ascension ravages his mind and body — spinning tales of the world he will usher in beneath his era of rule. emerging from the ASHES of old, rinsed in blood of the complicit. an end to the cruelty. an end to the selfishness inherent in every living thing. an end to the loss and lies and bitter betrayal. all orchestrated by the fledgling deity encased in a metal shell.

of course, there are still OBSTACLES that stand in their way. a childlike god. a familiar thorn in his side. no matter. the everlasting lord of arcane wisdom will face them himself — for he is not MORAX, and he will not throw his yaksha at every problem that rears its ugly head. a battle between the divine ( a reflection of the archon war ) seems the perfect way to mark his ascension. to prove that he is strong, that he is worthy of this celestial heart in spite of his creator's callous assumptions. he welcomes the blood and strife with a FEROCITY that miserable thing which once called itself a harbinger would scorn. despite the strings that tether him, he thinks he tastes FREEDOM for what feels like the first time — the freedom of a creature kept bound and caged for the entirety of its existence up until that very moment. now with potential unchained, he is ready to gnash his teeth and stain his claws in the filth of the old world.

... except things do not go according to plan.

tricked by the god of wisdom, thrown into a cycle of dreams. he is outplayed, outsmarted, overpowered and thoroughly humiliated. yet the WORST is yet to come — for though buer is a gentle deity, she knows the rules of combat just as well as he. to the victor go the spoils, and the prize she seeks is his HEART.

( ❝ no! ❞ ) he can feel it. ( ❝ wait! ❞ ) he can feel it being torn from "his" chest, inch by miserable inch. ( ❝ please ... anything but the gnosis ... ! ❞ )

bursting forth from his mechanical shell, he meets buer's gaze and screams for mercy. he's reliving one of his life's greatest AGONIES, a nightmare so cruel it stretches beyond the conception of even his vitriolic mind. he can't go back. not after coming this far — not after all he's endured, all he's sacrificed, all the soft parts of himself he's carved away in his obsessive pursuit to finally, finally slot into the role of divinity. yet while the dendro archon looks upon him with pity ( and how ugly that is, how painfully that sympathy grinds salt into his open wounds ) she ignores his cries.

in that moment of pure desperation, he opens his mouth and screams his name.

❝ ... XIAO — ! ❞

and for the first time in his life, someone listens.

a blur of turquoise. the gnosis pressed back into his hands. he saved him, he saved him. in all his years of miserable life, no one has ever attempted the same. niwa was a liar who abandoned him to clean his mess. the fatui only ever saw him as a tool — a weapon, to be disassembled, reforged, and pointed at whatever they saw fit. impersonal. uncaring. yet the yaksha comes to his aid without HESITATION. ( ... and he, too, is someone who actually cares... )

with xiao by his side, they are victorious. buer is locked away once more. the traveler banished from his sight — spared, only at his songbird's request. and now he finds himself in possession of not one gnosis, but two.

the first gnosis is his birthright. the second is what allows him to become a true god. with both slotted into his chest, he undergoes a metamorphosis. the machine meant to become his eternal resting place ( his new body, to which the old would stay tethered forevermore ) is repurposed as a cocoon. something changes. he changes. eternity. wisdom. a connection to something eldritch and archaic as the world itself. the anatomy of a once worthless puppet tearing itself apart beneath the strain and emerging in the form of a higher power. arms. teeth. hair that spills down his shoulders like drips of ink. they aren't his, but they are his.

something prods at the edges of his consciousness, whispering the last name he will ever need to bear. belial. you are ... belial.

he emerges from the machine's corpse, choking on wet coughs from newly formed lungs. what triumph he feels is short lived — as the newborn god stumbles on legs like a baby deer to his yaksha's side.

... the conqueror of demons is finally, truly dying. yet now he can see it happening before his very eyes. the fight has burned through what dregs of strength still remain within him — and now he is decaying, fading, crumbling away into nothing. a sad little thing, discarded on the battlefield like a broken blade. the first person to ever save him. the first person to ever care. this is how fate chooses to REWARD him for the purest act of selflessness he has ever seen.

it's too cruel. it's too unfair.

... it's something he has the power to CHANGE. something he will change. someone whose loyalty runs so deep cannot be allowed to fade from the world.

belial's first act as a true god is to share a piece of his DIVINITY. it's not much. it's just a scrap. yet is is, miraculously, enough to keep him alive.

and when they first meet eyes in the aftermath of it all, as the dust has settled and the sweet ambrosia of victory dances upon his tongue, he can only smile. for this is just the BEGINNING.

#𝟎𝟏𝟔 : 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘵𝘺. ◟ v. corruption .◝#long post #body horror tw #( <- for a very vague description but just to be safe )#( evil codependent boyfriends: the au let's GOOO )#( WARNING WARNING THIS IS LITERALLY A FANFICTION I WASN'T LYING )

9 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Paradise Circus - Chapter Twenty Five.

A huge thank you to all members of such a loyal audience with this! I appreciate you more than I can explain for your unwavering dedication to reading it. This isn’t a long chapter, but rounds things off nicely for you all. Enjoy :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 2,518

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. NO MINORS, PLEASE!

“Fuck yes, pound me, oh my god!”

Pregnancy sex. There was absolutely nothing like it, everything heightened, nerve endings buzzing from the lightest of contact, skin tingling with ebullience, except light contact was the very furthest thing Darla was experiencing that morning as Tommy railed her so hard, he was scared he might go through her. He did vouch for it, though, if she went overdue. This was day three, and she was so pissed off and uncomfortable at their son’s refusal to make an appearance that her boyfriend was in a perpetual state of exhaustion in trying to bring about her labour.

He wasn’t complaining, though.

“If your water breaks all over this bed, Imma be so pissed,” he panted, grinning to indicate his joke.

“It’d be the most voluminous squirt of all time, huh?”

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re filth, cookie monster. I love you, though.”

As he fucked her, he had to wonder a few times if her water was on the verge of breaking, she was so damned wet, his cock coated in the gloss of her arousal, driving into her until she reached her squealing peak, thinking that if his neighbours were home, they’d likely be tired of all the sex noise by now. She’d become a lot more vocal over the last few weeks, and he loved it, but perhaps for Kevin and Bonnie, the home working couple next door, not so much.

“Oh, god. I’m dead. He better get here soon; I can’t keep up with three times a day. I’m an old man at thirty-three!” Tommy groaned, resting his head to her bump as he slid from within her, kissing the huge swell. “Hey you, before your mama kills me, hurry the hell up, kid!” He then spoke, gently prodding the side of her swollen belly.

“I’m obviously a good baby oven, he’s entirely too comfortable in there.” she exclaimed, catching her breath as Tommy got up to go and take a shower, leaving it on for Darla, who could only just about squeeze in through the doors. It was just as she was rinsing her facewash off, mindful not to get her weave too wet and have to endure endless drying, that she realised coming for a shower at the moment she did was a very good call.

“Finally! We have lift off!” she exclaimed at her waters breaking into the bottom of the shower, breathing somewhat of a sigh of relief. She’d been having little twinges all morning, but assumed them to be nothing more than the usual that led to nowhere. After she’d gotten out, dried and dressed, smothering her face in lotion and braiding her hair, though, she soon saw they definitely lead somewhere.

“Oh my fucking god! Oh, that was not good, really not good!” she winced, taking a deep, nervous breath as her first proper contraction hit her, hanging onto Tommy’s huge forearms and setting the timer on her phone as soon as the pain began to subside.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, stroking her back.

“Nope, no I’m good for now. Did you cancel your clients?”

“Shit.” In the excitement and, if he was honest, nerves that it had finally started, he’d neglected to call the people he was due to train that afternoon, feeling bad that two of them would now be waiting aimlessly for him at the gym. As soon as he’d done that, he was back by her side, looking concerned.

“Tommy, it’s alright. You don’t have to glue yourself to me. This will take a while. It could be hours until you have to take me to the hospital, so you can go and do stuff if you want?”

“Everything is done already. How about we watch a movie, or keep marathoning Stranger Things?”

“The latter! I can’t believe I fell asleep one episode in!” she announced, picking up the remote off the table and switching the TV on. She got herself comfortable, Tommy pulling the coffee table closer and resting a cushion on it for her feet, stacking the rest behind her as they settled to watch.

“Oooh, oooooh!” she exclaimed after half an hour.

“Contraction or action reaction?”

“Action reaction. That thing is nasty,” she replied, pointing at the horrific monster on screen. Five minutes later, though...

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Just breathe, baby. You’re all good. Deep breaths.” Stroking her back, he watched her control her breathing as she leaned forward, the folding at her waist seeming to help with the fact that she felt like her womb was being wrenched open. Twenty seconds later, and she was fine again, That was the way it went well into the evening, her contractions only reaching the five minutes apart mark and lasting close to a minute at around 9pm, Tommy packing her things into the car while she called the hospital to let them know she was on her way.

Forty minutes later, and she was in her room, considerably less calm than she had been after being told her active labour would likely begin shortly, her dilation at seven centimetres.

“It hurts so much! I can’t do it, I can’t. I’ve changed my mind!”

“Baby, don’t panic. You can do this, you can.” Tommy reassured her as she walked around the room with him, too uncomfortable to sit still. If she had to give birth standing up like a giraffe for the sake of being comfortable, she would do it. The midwife had told her that whatever she wanted was good with her, that she’d adjust to her wishes.

“Oh, you would say that! You’re not the one about to push something the size of a bowling ball through something the width of a hosepipe!!” He tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help it, Darla giving him a dark look before she eventually laughed a little. “I’m sorry if I get snappy, I’m just scared.”

“I expect a barrage of abuse going forward, you telling me how it’s all my fault, I’m never allowed to come near you again, etcetera. I’m good, you yell at me all you like if it makes you feel better.” She did, too. She spent the next few contractions cursing him to hell and back, before thinking better on it. He was her partner, here to go through this with her and be supportive, Darla softening a little, but still venting her fear over what was to come.

“Tommy, what if it tears my cooch apart? What if... ouch, fucking shit! What if I’m rendered un-fuckable? What if you never want to have sex with me again?”

“Okay, calm down. Trust me, I’m gonna wanna have sex with you again. Whether you’ll want to let me anywhere near you after this is another question entirely, though.”

She had a little cry at that moment, hugging him tightly, the pain unbearable. “I’m so scared! It hurts so much. I really don’t think I can do this!”

He moved her back to the bed, sitting her down, moving himself to sit behind her, stroking her bump as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Now listen, yes, it’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna suck, but you know what? You’re the strongest person I fucking know. You got this, and I’ve got you, alright?”

“I can’t!” she continued to wail, gripping his arms, another contraction hitting her.

“You can, baby. You absolutely can! I know you’re scared and in pain, but it’ll so be worth it.” He encouraged her, the nurse offering her the gas. She took a few big huffs, her head suddenly spinning a little, everything now decidedly better than it had been in the minutes previously. It still hurt like hell, but she cared less. This she could do.

She did, too. After eight hours of scary pain, wailing, screaming and exhaustion, at 6:02am, Opie Michael Brendan Conlon-Cooke was delivered, placed into his mother’s arms as he howled, all eight pounds and eleven ounces of him, his parents overjoyed beyond comprehension. It had been a long, tumultuous road to arrive where they were, but they were there. Finally, they were there.

After she had delivered the placenta and been cleaned down by a kindly nurse before leaving the birthing suite, she sat and held her son back in her room, tired, in agony, but more content than she could remember. There he was, her son. Their son, carefully passing him to his daddy for another hold, their baby looking so very tiny in the huge arms of his adoring father, Tommy kissing his head.

“Next to your mom, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Opie.” He told him tenderly, stroking his cheek with his fingertip. “He’s perfect.”

“Isn’t he?” she confirmed, squeezing his arm. “We make damned gorgeous babies. I might let you help me make a few more one day, once I forget how horrific the last eight hours were.”

He smirked, leaning to kiss her forehead. “I’m so damned proud of you. You did so well.” Looking down at his son again, he laid another kiss to his head as well, his new baby scent the best thing in the world. “Your mom is a total badass, little man.”

The total badass fed her son for the first time shortly after before taking a nap, Tommy going out to get her some food at her request since the hospital lacked anything both good and vegan, taking the opportunity to call their loved ones and let them know Opie had finally arrived.

He got back to the hospital just as it was coming up to 9am, both Darla and his son sleeping when he entered the room quietly, deciding that rest was a very good idea. He remembered Tess’s wise words, the last time he’d visited her and Brendan. ‘Sleep when the baby does and you might manage to get longer than half an hour at night.’ He’d drifted off within minutes.

When he awoke, it was to the sight of Darla and the baby all cuddled up together, her smile so serene. “Look, tiny boy. Your daddy is awake.”

Checking his phone, he saw he’d been out for two hours, now sure if he felt better or worse for it. What he did feel better for was being able to take them both home the following day. In the day prior to that, he, Meadow and Heather and his brother had driven back and forth between his place and Darla’s, ferrying all of her stuff over. It made sense, that she actually officially moved in, spending almost all of her time at Tommy’s place over the last few weeks of being pregnant.

Everything larger was divided between Brendan and Meadow’s garages before being sold when they got a moment, Darla requesting that they take the duplicate baby items Opie wouldn’t need now his parents lived under the same roof down to Goodwill so someone in need could benefit from nice things.

“He’s so tiny,” she marvelled, sitting on the couch with Opie lying asleep on her thighs. “He felt the size of an elephant when he was coming out!”

“I still think you’re badass for that. I can’t even comprehend how painful it must’ve been,” he marvelled, shaking his head.

“Painful just didn’t even cut it, it was horrific, but he was worth every ounce of it. Yes, you were, lil’ chunky cheeks!” she exclaimed, cooing softly and cradling him to her chest when he began to fuss. Tommy beamed at the scene in front of him, Darla an absolute natural with their baby. She took it in her stride completely, always so present and ready to fulfil whatever need their son required. She reminded him of his mom, something that made him feel a little choked up.

Their first day home was spent relaxing and getting into a routine with Opie, finding him to be a good, but very hungry baby who truly only fussed if he wanted to be fed, changed or cuddled. The day after, they got to introduce him to his godmothers, Meadow and Heather coming over with a lunch they’d prepared at home, save the new parents having to worry about doing anything in preparation.

“Oh my god, oh! I swear, I’m not just saying this because he’s my godson, this isn’t bias, but he’s the cutest little baby I’ve ever seen!” Meadow gasped, sitting down next to Darla, her hands over her mouth. “Hey, tiny boy, hey! I’m you’re auntie Meadow!”

Darla beamed, turning to look at Tommy, him and Heather hugging. It was such a beautiful moment, Heather eventually coming to crouch before her wife as Darla gently passed over Opie to Meadow. “These beautiful ladies are going to be the best godmothers on earth, little man. Yes, they are.”

“He’s adorable! Like a teeny, tiny Tommy without the broken nose!”

“Hey! My broken nose makes me distinguished, I’ll have you know!”

Heather snorted. “That’s what you’re telling yourself.” She bobbed her tongue between her teeth, her joke being met with an eye roll as she laughed, turning back to Opie and kissing his head. “Oh, that new born smell!”

Darla beamed. “Isn’t it the best?”

“Ahhh, the absolute best!” Meadow agreed, stroking his cheek with her fingertip. “And how are you, after the birth?”

“Damned sore! Fourteen stitches, I feel on fire,” she revealed, the women wincing, Meadow moving up to make way for her wife, handing Opie over for her cuddle turn. “And Tommy has a partially numbed hand for letting me bite on his wrist while I was in the final stages of pushing him out. Thanks for that again, honey.”

“Well, I wasn’t wearing a leather belt, so it had to be something.” His joke had the women in fits as he pulled up his sleeve, showing off the purple bruise. “Besides, I can’t even fathom that amount of fucking pain, so it was only fair I go through some myself for her bringing our boy into the world. Anyway, I’m gonna leave you ladies to coo. Who wants drinks?”

Three coffees and a green tea were requested, Tommy leaving them to it and heading for the kitchen. They stayed for a further hour before Opie needed to be put down for a nap, Tommy and Darla deciding to snooze while he did, curled up on the sofa together, their baby in his bassinet beside them.

They slept well, Tommy waking first before either of the loves of his life, looking at Darla, sound asleep on his chest, and then over at his son, snuffling softly in sleep. He smiled, realising that as soon as they’d both entered the house after Opie’s birth, all of his guilty feelings about Cassie, his fears over becoming his father, they’d melted away. Looking between them, he realised that the only fear he had would be if he was good enough for them and their expectations, because truly, they were the only ones that really mattered to him.

Finally, he’d found peace.

The End.

27 notes · View notes