#dreamless whispers
Text
Dreamless: Chapter One — A Call to Struggle
Chapter one of my Hollow Knight AU, Dreamless. Spoilers inbound.
Learn more about this AU: a link to the Dreamless masterlist.
Chapter summary: Ghost sails to Hallownest and is grouchy about it the whole time. They run into a few unpleasant realizations on their way in, and confront Elderbug at the entrance to Dirtmouth. They then bed down to prepare for the journey ahead.
Content warning for violent anger.
Read this chapter on AO3.
Before we get into the heat of things, some clarifications and warnings. This will be a long note, but bear with me. It's important.
Dreamless is a very personal story that draws a lot from my own experiences. Many sequences in this fic are based directly on things I am working through, and some indirectly or directly parallel certain real world events. I have no interest in attempting to hide this fact. I just ask that you be respectful when reading this story. There will be war, there will be genocide, there will be colonization, there will be death. None of this is going to be glossed over. If you can't handle that, I understand. But if you choose to read this fic, please keep in mind that half the time, this is what Dreamless is exploring.
In the previous iteration of this fic, I put this warning on Chapter 4, which is where this fact first rears its head, but now I recognize it should be a disclaimer at the very start of the fic. So here it is. Dead dove do not eat, please proceed with caution.
The rest of this note is addressed to, in this order, screenreader users, readers from the previous version of the fic, and anyone who needs content warnings. If you aren't any of these, you may skip the rest of the note. I hope you enjoy the first chapter.
For screenreader users, hello! I am a sighted writer, but I've tried my best to make this fic as screenreader accessible as I can with what I know. It seems that not all screenreaders distinguish between plain, bolded, and italicized text, so I've added extra notation for clarity. Bolded text will be bounded by asterisks (*), and italicized text will be bounded by underscores (_). In future chapters, there will be dialogue where this is relevant, so I hope introducing this notation now helps familiarize you with it. If there's anything else I can change for extra clarity, feel free to let me know! I truly hope you can enjoy this fic just as much as a sighted reader can.
For anyone who is here from the old iteration of this fic, thank you so much for sticking around all this time. These 9 months have been fruitful, and I hope to have a somewhat regular posting schedule now that I've ironed out a lot of kinks in the world. That being said, I will be deleting the old version off of AO3 at some future point in time. It's riddled with inaccuracies, and I'd rather direct people to the new version. If you for some reason still wish to access the old version of this fic, they are still accessible here on Tumblr.
Finally, there will be content warnings in the notes of each chapter after a brief summary of the chapter. On Tumblr, these are above the read more cut. Normally it will just be the summary and the content warnings. I will try to tag as many warnings as I can think of and as I think is appropriate, and within reason, you may request for more warnings, but in general I ask that you read at your own discretion. This is not intended to be a light, cheery fic. Some sequences are intentionally written to cause discomfort. I am a full time college student writing this fic in my spare time, so please protect your own mental health if necessary by clicking out of my fic, whether for a breather or permanently.
Without further ado, let’s get into the fic.
—(Line breaker)—
The wastelands do not have much variety in terms of scenery, offering only mountains of sand everywhere they look. They pace around the deck of their sand glider again, blinking as the howling wind blasts rough sand directly into their eyes, and they grumble. They ran out of things to entertain themself with cycles ago. They should be used to the tedium by now, but the process of traveling never becomes more appealing.
Completing another loop around the deck, sliding their nail in and out of its sheath as they walk, they stop by the mast and fuss at the ropes. It’s tempting to simply turn their glider around. Not that they particularly enjoyed chasing after cochineals, but at least it was something to do instead of pacing around endlessly on their sand glider. They’ve been sailing straight for so long with no chance in scenery they have to question whether they’re actually heading anywhere.
As if in response, a burst of pain shoots through their right eye. They hiss, clutching their face as the pain runs its course, slowly fizzling back into the dull ache they’ve begrudgingly grown used to. It continues gnawing on their eye, an insistent irritation that lingers somewhere in the back of their eyeball.
Keeping their hand over their eye, they bang their head against the mast. They don’t have a choice. The Call—often a dull ache, sometimes a sharp, searing pain—makes sure of that. One cycle they’d gone to sleep fine, and the next they woke screaming in pain as their eye burned. Some cycles, the Call rages so intensely they can’t do anything but curl up on the ground, clutching their head as their eye threatens to evict itself from its socket.
Most cycles, however, go like this. They bang their head against the mast again, dropping their hands and crossing their arms, sulking. They don’t want to be here, but they’d rather their eye remain intact.
If it had just been a simple pain, though, they’d likely have ignored it. But the Call… calls. Some cycles, they can feel it beckoning them, pleading for them to come. Sometimes it cries out for them in their dreams. They can’t be rid of it until they figure out what’s making them come here.
So here they are, sailing into nothingness. They bang their head against the mast a third time. The moment they figure this all out, they are leaving.
With a sigh, they busy themself with digging their map out of their pack. Slouching over it to shield it from the wind as they unfurl the delicate paper, they glare down at it, halfheartedly tracing their path so far with a finger. Though the Call is persistent, it’s not very specific, leaving them only a vague impression of which direction to go in. The last eight kingdoms they’d stopped in had not yielded any relief to the Call, and the only thing ahead now is, of course, Hallownest. Or rather, the Wyrm’s Jaws, but the other kingdoms in this area evidently were never relevant or people would endlessly chatter and whisper about them too.
They cram their map back into their pack and cross their arms again, looking ahead to their approximate destination with a huff. Of course it had to be Hallownest. It couldn’t be some current, living kingdom they could enter, deal with the issue, and leave. _Obviously_ they had to go explore the entombed husk of a kingdom that also conveniently has horror stories about people never leaving its depths. That one. The one kingdom they’d hoped it wouldn’t be.
They fiddle with the boom irritably, tightening the rigging, then set off on another lap around the deck, blinking hard as they face the wind again. They don’t particularly care for those stories, but it’s hard not to pay some heed to them. Years back, Hallownest had been a popular topic in treasure hunter circles. But all that talk about finding the lost riches and wisdom that Hallownest offered in its prime amounted to nothing, as one by one, the treasure hunters dropped off the map, never to be seen again after setting out for the lost kingdom. Now all they hear are the fearful whispers of their friends and family about Hallownest swallowing those who dare enter its depths, warning any aspiring explorers against journeying there.
Unsheathing their nail, they swing it idly as they switch to pacing back and forth along the rear end of the deck. They can handle anything Hallownest throws at them. They’ve dealt with worse. But it couldn’t hurt to be cautious about it; they’d be more eager to dismiss it if they hadn’t watched several envoys of treasure hunters setting off and never returning.
The whole prospect of it all is ridiculous. Why go sticking your head into places it doesn’t belong? The vigor to find Hallownest’s riches only grew stronger after the first few groups of people went missing. Anyone still willing to go then was an idiot and got what they deserved.
They huff, swinging their nail in a wide arc and posing, holding their nail at the ready, at a nonexistent enemy. What a hypocrite they are, to be searching for the same thing the treasure hunters were seeking. But what’s the point of trying to scavenge through dead kingdoms? Kingdoms rise and fall constantly, so if they want something of worth, they should just loot their own kingdom and wait for it to die.
After a few dozen more loops around the deck with them swinging their nail around the whole time, a hint of gray breaks out over the dull tan of the sands. “Sheer stone cresting the cowering cradles of sand,” they were told by the one vendor who had insisted on pestering them on why they were trading for fuel cores. It is at least an apt description; the dark stone rises rapidly, a looming presence even from this distance. They blink, the transparent film of their eyelids clearing sand out of their eyes. Contrasted against the dim sky, the Wyrm’s Jaws almost seem to be swallowing the landscape around them.
Complementing the dreary landscape, the wind abruptly starts dying down; their sails go flaccid in the shifting breeze. They sheathe their nail with a grumble, stalking over to the mast and firmly readjusting their rigging to tighten the sails. The wood creaks as the fabric fills again, the headsail flapping as it struggles to catch the wind. Tugging on the halyard until it fills out, they tie the ropes back down as quickly as they can, yanking on the ends to secure them. They are not walking all the way to the Wyrm’s Jaws. They will row if they have to.
The wind, spluttering and wavering, carries their glider to the entrance of the Wyrm’s Jaws before expiring completely. Their glider gently slides to a halt, listing lightly to one side. They sigh. This will have to do. Briskly dusting themself off, they vault over the side of their glider, landing in a slight crouch in the sand below.
The sand is cool, uncharacteristically so, as it pools around their feet. Puzzled, they kneel to scoop up a handful of sand. It is the same temperature as if it had been sylark here for at least a harvest. Dumping the sand out of their hand, they dig their portable clock out of their pack and peer closely at the small contraption. It is syligh, says the clock, in the brightest part of the cycle.
Stowing the clock, they stand, staring up at the sky. It is almost as dark as sylark is in other kingdoms. Some kingdoms are naturally dimmer than others, but…
They push back the unease tunneling its way through their chest. They need somewhere to moor their glider, and their current location is too exposed to a wild gust of wind. There should be somewhere within the Wyrm’s Jaws where they can tie their glider down. Unfurling the bow ropes and tying them firmly around their waist, they begin trekking into the Wyrm’s Jaws proper.
Without the wind, only an eerie quiet accompanies them and their muted footfalls. They unsheathe their nail as they press onward, blinking every so often to keep their vision clear. They haven’t seen any living creatures around these parts since the last kingdom they stopped in, but it won’t hurt to be prepared. They wouldn’t mind having something to actually swing their nail at though.
The ground slopes gently downwards as they progress, and little pillars of stone begin rising out of the sand. They inspect one briefly, running their hand over it. It’s some sort of fossilized mouth segment—a tooth, if they recall the terminology correctly. The tip is smooth, blunted from the constant weathering, but from the way it bends they can tell it used to be sharp. The stone barely reaches the tips of their tibias, but as they continue wading through the sand, they grow taller and taller until the fossils loom over them.
The deeper they go, the dimmer it gets, the area becoming increasingly shaded. They blink again, straining to see the path ahead of them. There is some sort of structure up ahead, the outline of which is only barely visible in the shade. Hand clenching tighter around the hilt of their nail, they warily creep closer, lifting their feet higher to tread as little sand as they can manage.
Nothing greets them but splintered wood, which they discover when their foot lands on a stray scrap, and they fling their nail away from them at the sudden pain. Cursing and hopping backwards, they clutch at their throbbing foot, nearly falling on their tail as the sand shifts underneath them. They yank the splinters out with a few more expletives, then glare up at the culprit: an old, abandoned glider. It’s larger than their own, designed for a small crew, but is otherwise structured similarly.
The decay of the wood reveals its age, however, as well as the torn sails and the half buried deck. Some of the planks have fallen off too; they put their foot down and grope around in the sand, unearthing the loose piece of wood they stepped on for a closer look. Even in the dim lighting, the rot on the wood is evident, and the parts not buried under the sand show marked weathering not dissimilar to that of the stone tooth. Whoever this sand glider belonged to has not returned for it in a long time.
They toss the plank back at the glider and retrieve their nail, sheathing it and dusting their hands as unease ripples inside of them again. Did this glider belong to one of those envoys they had watched set off? No one in their right mind would abandon their glider; they’ve seen people fight over them.
They have also seen people deconstruct old gliders, prying off floorboards and fuel inserts and absconding to trade them someplace else. They can’t check the internal engine of the glider without more lighting, but from what they can see, this glider has simply been left here to rot, untampered by petty thieves hoping for an easy trade. Judging by the height of the mast and the tattered sails hanging from it, this used to be one of the fancier models too. So if no one has attempted to scavenge it…
Shaking their head, they quickly step away from the broken glider and push onward, kicking up sprays of sand in their haste. It doesn’t matter. They’re only going to be here for a short while, probably less than a harvest. Worse comes to worst, they themself can scavenge from the wreckage for emergency supplies.
Deeper and deeper they go, their sand glider gently creaking as they forge their way through the dark. They keep their nail drawn, both hands clasped around the hilt as they walk. Normally, silence doesn’t bother them, but something about how the lack of sound settles in this area makes their chitin itch. The Call doesn’t help; with each step, it pulses. They shake their head again in a futile attempt to rid themself of the pain.
Something scrapes loudly just as they do so, and they jump, whirling around to point their nail at the source. They only find their glider pressed up against a second, extremely dilapidated glider, groaning as it strains against the rotted wood. The rotted glider is barely holding itself together, parts of the below deck storage rooms bared to the world. They carefully maneuver around the contents of the storage rooms and an array of shattered planks as they make their way over to free their glider, stepping delicately to avoid gaining another splinter. There are crates, ones that likely used to contain food… They avoid looking at the ground as they lean on their glider and begin to push.
With a bit of exertion, their glider slides free, and they tug it away from the broken glider. They retie the bow ropes around them, huffing. They should pay more attention to where they’re going. This far out, they can’t easily fix their glider if something happens.
As they turn to continue, swinging their foot forward, their claws clank against something metal, and they freeze. Staring down at the ground for a few moments as their insides twist, they slowly bend down to unearth the object. With a gentle tug, they pull out an old fuel insert, the creaking of its hinges the only thing to cut through the heavy silence.
They knew people had stopped coming here. For what it’s worth, they all eventually stopped trying. But this, of all things, should be easy pickings.
And yet, here they are, with an old, unwanted, abandoned fuel insert. It’s old and battered enough that it’s now useless.
They stare down at it for a few moments, then fling it at the old glider, hot rage searing through them as the fuel insert crashes through several rotten planks. Why are they here? Why are _they_ here? If other people have come before them then why are _they_ the one who the Call targeted?
They kick one of the stray planks back at the glider and snarl as their foot throbs from the impact, and they crouch down to hold it, shaking in fury. They had to come all this way out into the middle of nowhere just to deal with this stupid Call that they can’t even get to shut up and there are _corpses_, remnants of people long gone and why are they _here_? All the travelers who came here for treasure and none of them could fix this issue? Why do they have to do this? Why are they the one that has to deal with this mess when it could be anyone else?
They slam a fist against their own glider, then flinch as the wood creaks from the impact. They need to get out of here. The sooner they get this done the sooner they can leave and they won’t have to deal with it anymore.
Hauling themself to their feet, they drag their glider with them into the dark, stumbling in their eagerness to move on. They’ll get it done quick. Get in, deal with whatever needs dealing with, get out. It’ll only be a few cycles.
They trip when the ground underfoot abruptly becomes stone, their feet sliding on the remnants of sand. Throwing their hands out to catch themself, they fall against a pile of rubble, a few pebbles clattering to the floor as they steady themself. They crane their neck to search for the top of the pile; it stretches off into the gaping darkness above them. At a rough glance, the stone walls to either side are relatively unblemished. The ceiling or ceiling elements must have collapsed at some point in the past.
They have to leave their glider behind. They clench their hands into their cloak to stop themself from punching the nearest available object, and instead glance around for somewhere decent to park their glider. They’ll be back for it soon regardless, but they didn’t work two seasons for their glider just to dump it in the middle of nowhere.
There is a tarp stretched over one of the corners made by the pile of rubble and the walls; they pull their glider with them to take a closer look. The attachments are smooth and relatively sand free, implying that it was a recent addition to this area. It is also positioned in a way to shield against the wind, with enough room behind it to easily fit their glider. It will do for a temporary parking.
They shove the tarp back and are greeted with the sight of not one, but two sand gliders parked underneath. Both are in good condition, though one is somewhat covered in sand. They kick sand at the nearest one with a hiss. They better not run into any of these idiots while they’re dealing with the Call.
Their glider just barely fits into the remaining space under the tarp, and when they’re done shoving it in, the tip of the bow still barely pokes out from underneath it. They halfheartedly push on it again, then give up, letting the tarp fall back into place. It’ll be fine. They’ll be back soon, and this deep into the Wyrm’s Jaws there isn’t a lot of wind. At worst they’ll be gone for just a harvest.
Glider now situated, they confront the rubble pile again, testing their weight on it. Besides the top layer of smaller rocks, a few of which scatter as they hoist themself up and scrabble for footholds, it seems relatively sturdy. As long as they’re quick about it, they should be able to get to the top just fine.
They scramble up the side of the pile, feet slipping out underneath them several times, but they otherwise make it to the top without too much issue. Still in a crouch, they crawl closer to the other edge of the stone pile and peer down below. It’s dark. They flick a pebble off the edge, listening for when it hits the ground. A good few ticks, more than they’re comfortable with, pass before they hear the muffled clatter. It’s a longer way down than up.
They nudge another pebble off, trying to track how far down it travels. The darkness swallows it up almost instantly. They huff, tapping their foot. They don’t have another way of gauging how far down the ground may be.
At worst though, it’s probably only several times their height. Better to just get it over with. Bunching their muscles, they keep a hand on their nail to stop it from sliding out of its sheath as they leap into the dark.
The ground meets them sooner than they expect, leaving them no time to brace for the sharp stones that dig into their feet. Caught off guard by the sudden pain, they fall forward onto their hands, then jerk back with a hiss as the stones stab into their palms. Something like this always happens wherever they go and nothing can ever be simple and straightforward. Why do they even bother?
Dislodging the stones from their feet with a brisk scratch under each foot, they quickly weave their way through the field of stones to smoother ground. Their feet smart with each step they take, and they flex their hands as they walk, tail flicking in irritation. The Call is still here, pulling them forward still, and it’s stronger now. They must be getting close. They just have to—
Footsteps. Their nail is drawn in an instant, and they point it at the approaching speck of light. It hesitates, but resumes after a few ticks at a slower pace, bringing into view an old beetle. Their antennae quiver as they glance between them and the point of their nail, hands clenched tightly around their lantern. “Hello, traveler,” they rasp out, their voice low and measured. “What brings you here?”
“None of your business,” they sign back with one hand, their hand motions sharp and rough. They grip their nail tighter, gauging the beetle. They don’t look to be the owner of one of the two gliders they found, nor do they seem to be in any state to fight. Where did they come from, then? What sort of trick is this going to be?
The beetle hesitates again, antennae whirling. “I… I apologize, traveler. Is that Trade Sign? I’m not too familiar with it. It’s been many years since I’ve had the opportunity to practice.”
They take a step closer, holding their nail up closer to the beetle, who backs away nervously. They’re not familiar with Trade Sign? What’s their ploy? If they’re this close to the entrance of the Wyrm’s Jaws they must have learned at least basic Trade Sign and they’re just lying about it.
Clutching the lantern closer to their chest, the beetle stammers out, “Most—most other travelers here prefer to speak, and I haven’t had the chance to really—to use Trade Sign since everyone else in the village left. They’ve all headed down below.” Their antennae droop. “There’s only me here now.”
They stare at the beetle, something deep inside them curdling. “You live here?” they sign slowly, spelling it out and emphasizing each letter.
“... yes.” The beetle slumps into themself, their palps quivering gently. “It’s not an unfair assumption, I suppose, to think that the Wyrm’s Jaws are gone. But I hatched here after its fall. There used to be more people living here, but…”
They stare at the beetle some more. Either this beetle is lying out their ass, or somehow, everyone was wrong. The Wyrm’s Jaws are not dead. Hallownest is not dead.
Then what, or _who_, is calling them here?
The beetle sighs. “You seem like you’ve traveled a long way. There is lots of room here, if you wish to rest a while.” They pause, palps flicking. “I’d enjoy the company,” they add quietly.
They hesitate briefly, then sheathe their nail. For all their impatience, this beetle appears to be telling the truth. Their tail wags as unease pools inside of them; trying to stop their tail from moving only makes it congeal into a hard, cold lump that threatens to drag them to the ground.
“I’ll stay for a cycle,” they say, keeping their signs curt. “No more than that.” In spite of the twisting, scratching feeling inside of them, the idea of rushing in is giving them pause.
The beetle’s antennae shoot up in clear delight. “Of course,” they say, their voice contrastively even. “Come this way.” Turning around in a shuffling walk, the beetle ambles into the darkness.
Left hand resting on their nail, they follow, keeping their gaze trained on the beetle’s back. While this beetle may be telling the truth, it’s hard to fully accept their words. Hallownest, still alive? If the kingdom is still running, let alone the whole kingdom cluster, it’s been over sixty-four years since it had imports. That just seems impossible.
Silence trails them as the beetle leads them to a small hut, broken only by the rattling of the keys the beetle fumbles through. They clack softly as the beetle finds the right one and unlocks the door. Brushing past the beetle, they push the door open and glance around as they enter. The hut is spotless, almost unnervingly so.
“Let me know if you need anything,” the beetle says softly from the entrance to the hut. “Food, healing salves, or other supplies.”
They make a halfhearted gesture over their shoulder as they walk towards the bedroom, shoving the door open with their foot and closing it in the same manner. As the door closes, all remaining composure slithers out of them, and they barely make it over to the bed before slumping unceremoniously onto it. Hallownest, _alive_? Why are they here? Them, of all people? How is it still alive?
What mess have they been tasked to fix? Why Hallownest, of all possible messes to get stuck in? Why them?
_Why them?_
They bury their face in the bed, squeezing it between their arms. It doesn’t matter. They’ll deal with it and go. If they have to fight someone, they’ll gut them as quickly as they can. It won’t be long. It won’t be that bad. It’s just another job. Just another thing to deal with and they can leave and never think about it again. It’ll be fine.
The Call thuds through their head as if in protest, and they push their face in even deeper. They don’t want to think about this. Come the next syligh, they’ll deal with this once and for all.
Though they aren’t tired, they stay glued to the bed, refusing to lift their head to face the world. Drowsiness blankets them before long, a welcoming change to the sharp wakefulness demanded by the Call’s stabbing pain. They allow themself to sink into it, slipping gently into sleep.
Vaguely, through the haze of slumber, the Call continues, pulsing.
Next chapter: A Cry from the Dark
#hollow knight#dreamless au#dreamless whispers#godslayers#AND WE'RE BACK BABY#i'm so excited asdfgkjs#ghost#the knight#elderbug#if you're confused feel free to ask! there's a ton of worldbuilding#i'm planning on introducing it as naturally as i can#but i'm always up to clarify if need be
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
I absolutely adore your writing,
For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?
sunshine.
op x fem!reader - 4k celebration
in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…
hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚
songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing
2.9k words
oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.
he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.
the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.
his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.
as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.
“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.
“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.
“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.
“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.
your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.
“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.
“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.
“he dumped me.”
“oh.”
“yeah.”
“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.
“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.
“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.
“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.
“oh. oh.”
“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.
“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.
“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.
“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”
you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.
he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.
you pass out right around chandler’s vows.
-
you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.
you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.
for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?
“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.
oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.
you kiss him.
because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.
his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.
he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.
“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.
“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.
“really?”
“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.
“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.
and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.
“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.
“why?”
“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-
“oh.”
“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”
“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”
“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.
“then you better do something.”
oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.
“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”
“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.
his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.
“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.
“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.
you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.
“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.
“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.
“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.
his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.
you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.
“want all of you, osc.” you plead.
“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.
oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.
he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.
oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.
“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”
you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.
his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.
“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.
“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.
“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.
you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.
it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.
“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.
a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.
“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.
“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.
you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.
“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.
“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.
“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.
he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.
“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.
you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.
“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.
“so bad.” you pant.
“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.
he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.
“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.
“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.
“move.”
oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.
“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.
“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.
“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.
his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.
when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.
his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.
the most beautiful sunshine man.
“hi.” he whispers.
“hi.” you whisper back.
an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.
“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.
“perfect.” you agree.
“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.
“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.
“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.
when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.
“thank god you broke in.”
-
oh i’m soft
-
taglist
@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne
lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri smut#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fics#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri oneshot#f1 fic#f1 smut#f1 fics#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#f1 oneshot#f1 driver x reader#f1 driver x you#formula 1 smut#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 oneshot#f1#writing things#jas’s 4k celebration#request#ask#anon
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
“Is Satoru in here?”
You poke a head into the teacher’s lounge, expecting to at least see Ijichi and one other auxiliary manager or personnel lounging, waiting for the coffee to dispense. Instead, you see Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji hovering over a seated, unmoving Satoru.
Well, Nobara and Yuuji hover. Apprehensively, they peer down at him as if examining some unknown specimen, and the two of them regroup to whisper amongst themselves for a possible explanation. Megumi supervises them, back to the wall across the room, arms crossed, face vaguely suspicious.
Yuuji and Nobara greet you with waves. Megumi straightens when you approach.
“Gojo-sensei wasn’t in class,” is the explanation he offers, eyeing Satoru’s figure. “We thought he was slacking.”
A smile nudges at your lips. “So you thought you’d find him here.”
Satoru is sleeping, gaze shielded by his typical blindfold. You can tell in the almost uncanny stillness of his body. Although his students might not be able to, convinced that a prank is underway. It’s a nostalgic sight. Satoru doesn’t sleep often. Not anymore. Once, he would’ve fallen asleep on your shoulder after a particularly rigorous day while you struggled to support the full weight of his body slumped on your side. Until Suguru yanked him over to his shoulder anyway.
Now he stays awake through the nights, awake when you sleep, awake when you inevitably rise, ready to supply you with an endless amount of good morning!’s and murmured good night’s.
Nobara nods resolutely. “On three.” There’s a hammer in her hand.
Yuuji gulps. “Roger that.”
Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose. Exhales.
The lines of Satoru’s lips imperceptibly twitch.
You slowly walk over to Satoru, and meet the covered line of his sight, his head resting on a slightly reclined cushion.
“Hey,” you greet softly. “It’s rare to see you asleep.”
Satoru pulls his blindfold down to his neck, revealing his open gaze directly on yours. An easy smile curves his lips and softens his expression. “Who said I was sleeping?” He hums. “Just resting my eyes for a bit.”
“So he was sleeping—”
Yuuji’s voice wavers with awe. “You could tell?”
“Yaga-sensei’s looking for you,” you tell him.
Satoru huffs. “That's why you came to find me? Tell him I’m sleeping.” His fingers reach up, brush at your cheek. Nobara gags as Megumi corrals her and Yuuji and drags them out the door. His voice is airily unbothered. “I had a dream.”
The words take you aback. You consider your nightmares to be dreaded, dreamless sleeps to be a relief. Dreams are rare. “Was it a happy one?”
You hope for his sake, it was.
He briefly lowers his eyes, as if caught in a distant memory. “Happy enough," he says, rising to his feet and gazing at you. "But you know, I think I prefer reality."
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Levi will never admit that he has trouble sleeping without you.
Before meeting you he got by on dreamless sleep for the most part, but as a retired survey corps captain he had his fair share of nightmares. He too is a person after all.
Now, he enjoys being cuddled up against you as he takes in deep breaths of your shampoo and lotion that you love to use. He always holds you tight too, because he's afraid to lose you, the love of his life.
It brings him comfort hearing your even breaths, and even your sleep mumbling. He could spend hours watching you sleep.
So when you leave for a work related trip, he doesn't know what to do.
He'll drink multiple cups of caffeinated tea, sitting on a bar stool without a thought in mind.
Ideally, he's waiting for you to get back home but you won't be back for another two days.
So he didn't even attempt to sleep. Your husband stayed awake for three days in a row.
When you open the door to see his pale skin, even more pale and fair than usual you drop all your bags and run over to him.
"Levi? You okay? You look dead." There are dark circles under his eyes and he collapses into your arms.
Before you can get another question out you hear small snores coming from him.
It all clicks into place. He hadn't slept at all since you left.
"I'm here now. Rest, my love." You whisper upon deaf ears.
#levi is a big softy i'm not taking this up with no one!!!!!!#aot#attack on titan#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader#aot fluff#aot drabble#levi drabble#levi fluff#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi#aot levi
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Beleaguer
"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc
WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy
--------------
‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’
You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.
You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.
You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.
“Oh my God.”
You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.
Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.
The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.
And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.
It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.
Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.
You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.
You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.
Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.
You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.
This was a way out. A miracle.
In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.
You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.
Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.
You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.
And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.
And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.
You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.
Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.
…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.
You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.
And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.
You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.
You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.
You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.
You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.
You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.
It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.
Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.
Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.
"Mm?"
You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."
You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"
"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.
"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.
"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.
"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."
Oh yes, you will.
Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.
Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.
There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.
There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.
The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.
You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.
Come on, get thirsty, drink it...
Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.
Come on, come on!
You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.
So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.
It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.
"...Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"
He was silent for a moment.
"...Nothing."
Ok. Good save.
You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.
You were fine for now— what is he doing.
You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.
Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other. He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.
Oh.
His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"
Oh no.
"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.
"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."
You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.
"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.
He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.
"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"
"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."
"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.
But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.
You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.
That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.
But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.
The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.
You had not been an exception.
Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.
You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.
There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.
Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.
You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.
Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.
The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.
You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?
You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.
"You should finish it."
Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.
"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.
"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."
You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.
Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.
“Unless there's something wrong with it.”
Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."
His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."
The last two words came out firm. A command.
"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.
You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.
"...I'm sorry."
He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.
"Where is it?"
You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"
"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.
You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.
For a moment, you were silent.
"Tell me."
You tensed up, biting your lip.
You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.
At your hesitation, he said your name.
It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.
He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”
"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.
Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.
Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.
You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.
You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.
“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.
You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.
“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”
Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.
He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.
But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.
You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.
“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.
Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.
“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”
You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”
“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”
“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.
“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”
The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.
Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.
That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.
“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”
The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”
“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”
His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.
“Don't get an attitude with me.”
Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.
A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.
“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”
You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.
"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”
You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.
His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.
“Come here.”
A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.
You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.
Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”
You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.
It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.
For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.
"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.
You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.
The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.
Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.
And a moment was all you got.
You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.
“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”
“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.
The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.
You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.
You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.
Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.
You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.
You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.
“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”
You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.
You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.
“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”
“But I—”
You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.
“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”
Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.
“—if you could just—”
Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.
“—give it up—”
And yet another.
“—and learn to behave.”
Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.
“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”
But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.
“It’s supposed to.”
The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”
“You said that last time.”
Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.
“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”
The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.
“—on being stubborn.”
The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.
It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.
"I'm sorry!"
You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.
The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.
Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.
There was only a heavy sigh.
“Are you done being a brat?”
You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”
There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.
Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.
And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.
Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.
“Y-yes sir…”
Finally, the grip on your wrists released.
“Good.”
You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.
There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.
“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”
Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.
But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.
Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.
You'd glared, snapping at him.
What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?
The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.
Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.
It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.
“…”
Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.
Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.
You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.
“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”
You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.
“Wait, wait—”
You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.
"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.
You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."
"Just relax. You’re too tense.”
“I can’t just—gh!”
His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.
"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.
Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.
You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.
Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.
“Fight me off.”
With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.
“What? I don't— what are you—”
Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.
“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”
The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.
“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”
Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.
“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”
You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.
“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”
You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.
But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.
“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”
The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.
“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.
Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.
“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”
A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.
“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”
Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.
You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.
“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”
Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.
“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”
Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.
“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”
The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.
A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.
You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.
Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.
“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”
The only reply you got was a single word.
“Good.”
You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.
You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.
The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.
You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.
And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.
Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.
You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.
“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”
You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.
Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.
“This will be good for you.”
You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”
Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.
“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”
He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.
“So, it will calm you down.”
You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.
“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”
“You're being overdramatic.”
“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”
Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.
You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.
Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.
“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”
“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.
You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.
“Don't move around so much.”
Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.
“There is no way in hell I'm—”
Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.
“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”
You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.
You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.
“…No, sir…”
He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”
You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.
His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.
He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.
“Mm, sorry.”
The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.
Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.
“Night.”
You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.
“…Goodnight…”
There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.
You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.
You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.
#bro really saw an autonomous female existing and said 'not on my watch'#genshin smut#diluc x reader#.dl
625 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey there! ☺️ I've been loving your writing lately and wanted to make a request for a new piece. What about writing about Soldier!Reader and König falling asleep on each other on their way back to base after a mission? I think it would be a sweet moment of intimacy after all the dangers and stress they've been through together. No pressure though, just thought I'd throw it out there! :)
HI, LOVIE! thanks for this request,, this was undeniably the cutest thing I have ever written!! i used gtranslate for the german phrases cz idk any german huhu. anyw, i hope u wd love this, anon <//3
PAIRING: König X Gn!Reader
OVERVIEW: König letting you rest on his shoulder, and him also resting on top of your head <//3
C/W: Everything is fluff.
As you sat in the back of the military vehicle, you felt your shoulders droop as you fought to stay awake. Your mind was fogged from fatigue, and every minute felt like an eternity.
But as your eyes began to flutter closed, you made one last effort, shifting slightly in your seat to avoid dozing off.
You and your team had just completed a long and arduous mission, and you all were tired and eager to get back to base. You looked over at König who was seated next to you in the military vehicle. He looked just as exhausted as you felt, his face lined with the strain of the past few hours.
König, watching over you as he always did on missions, noticed the tell-tale signs of you about to fall asleep. Instead of calling you out, however, he silently watched with concern.
He knew how grueling the mission had been, and he did not want to see you hurt yourself by staying up any longer.
As you continued to struggle to keep your eyes open, your focus began to slip, your head slowly drooping. You didn't even realize it, but eventually your head came to rest on König's shoulder, your breathing growing more and more steady with each passing moment.
König noticed the change in your demeanor immediately, and he watched your face as it relaxed into a peaceful slumber. He knew your exhaustion well, and he saw it as a sign that you had finally reached your limit.
His rough, low voice was warm and comforting as he whispered words to you so softly that you almost didn't catch it, but you felt their meaning deep in your heart.
"Ich bin so stolz auf dich," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "Du bist so mutig und stark."
His whispers continued as you slept, caressing your right arm gently as he does so. "Ich liebe dich..." he murmured softly, sounding almost hesitant. "Du bist meine Welt, meine Liebe."
König knows that you would not be able to understand them, so he lets himself freely express his love and care for you in his mother tongue.
König then adjusted his seat to accommodate you and let you rest against him. Nevertheless, you still slept soundly in his right shoulder, the warmth of his body providing a sense of comfort and security that you desperately needed.
A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of König's snores. He had leaned his head on top of yours, and the sound of his breathing was rhythmic and soothing. Despite the uncomfortable position, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, and you drifted off once more.
As the hours passed, the warmth of his body seept into yours, and your consciousness began to fade. You were lost in a dreamless, restful sleep, feeling safe and protected by his presence.
Finally, the sun began to set, and the military vehicle came to a stop outside the base. You stirred from your slumber, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever might come next. You opened your eyes to find König still sound asleep, his head resting on top of yours.
You sighed softly, trying not to disturb him. You carefully shifted your position and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "König... Wake up."
He stirred slightly, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Gott sei Dank..." His voice was low and hoarse from exhaustion, but there was a smile in his eyes. "I'll never complain about a nap again."
You giggled quietly, feeling a sudden surge of affection for him. "You'll never complain about anything again," you murmured, reaching up to prepare your stuff and fix your vest.
"Ja," König replied, his eyes gentle as ever as he looked at you. "Thanks for your shoulder, schatz. Sorry for if ever, um, it was uncomfortable."
"Oh?" You smiled softly at him.
"You know, given by your smaller than me, maus."
"Well," you chucked as you leaned over at him once more. "It was actually one of the best and comfortable sleep I have ever encountered in this.. kind of scenario."
König felt a warm sensation sweep over his cheeks as he blushed, clearing his throat nervously. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad."
"Actually, I should have been the one thank you. So, thanks. I really needed that nap." You patted his shoulder, where you previously had slept on.
König felt a nervous jolt run through his body as he realized his blush must have been noticed, even with the mask on, when your smile seems to expand more cheekily.
He doesn't trust his words, fear striking in him if he's going to let out stuttering phrases. So, he instead nodded at you, averting his gaze once again.
You knew that there were plenty of things he couldn't express with his mask on, but you could still tell that he appreciated your gesture. And you were glad to have been there for him, just as he had been there for you.
#👾 — [bonnie’s wk]#okay but like konig being overly affectionate is making me soft#I CANT HELP IT why is he so bbg#konig x you#konig#konig fic#konig x reader#konig cod#konig modern warfare#konig headcanons#konig fanfiction#konig mw2#konig fluff#könig cod#könig smut#könig#könig x you#könig x reader#könig fanfiction#könig call of duty#cod x you#cod x reader#cod fanfic#cod modern warfare#cod#call of duty mw2#call of duty#call of duty x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
eyes don't lie | jeon wonwoo
SYNOPSIS. in which you and wonwoo have a late night conversation.
PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, comfort, lil angst if you think about it, best friends to lovers
WARNINGS. conversations abt death, just 2 'besties' having deep talks :')
WORD COUNT. 1.5k
notes: idk rlly know what this is and idk where i was going with it but i hope you enjoy lmao
"Do you think that when we die, we see black forever?"
You hear Wonwoo's phone shut off immediately at your question, and the silence that follows right after is almost suffocating, like you're holding your breath. You feel the bed dip right next to you𑁋probably from Wonwoo adjusting himself𑁋and then you feel the momentary contact of his arm against yours. He feels warm, like he always does.
Your brain is doing its runs, Wonwoo presumes, eyes gazing around your dimly-lit room before landing on you sprawled on the bed next to him, legs straight and eyes piercing up at the ceiling above. The only sounds he can hear is your synchronized breathing, the ticking of your clock on the wall, and the distant blare of car horns from the city outside.
You steal a glance at him, his silhouette barely visible in the moonlight filtering through the window. His forehead is creased, eyes shadowed in thought, nose crinkling for a brief second to rid of an itch. He's thinking about the question, and you swear you can visibly see the gears and cogs turning in his mind.
"Maybe," he finally says, voice barely a whisper. "Or maybe it's like that dreamless sleep we have at times. Nothingness, but not in a bad way. Just... a pause, I guess."
"A pause?" You lift a brow. "But wouldn't that be like... ceasing to exist?"
Wonwoo just shrugs, the movement barely discernible in the darkness. He shifts his body slightly, and maybe there's just a bit more space between you two because a sudden chill seems to course through you.
"Not exactly," he murmurs. "Think of it like a comma. It's not a full stop; it's a moment of quiet before the next chapter starts."
"The next chapter?"
He hesitates, then speaks cautiously, "It's... you know, like another life. We shed this skin, and become something else, somewhere else."
A hum leaves your lips, then a wave of silence washes over the room. It stretches for what feels like an eternity, and Wonwoo can't tell if
you're lost in thought or waiting for him to elaborate. The moonlight pouring in from your bedroom window dances on the edges of the room, casting shadows that flicker like the thoughts swirling around you two.
"But... but don't get me wrong," Wonwoo adds, breaking the silence before it grows even longer. "It's not something to be scared of, I think. It's like... coming home. Finally understanding the story you've been living without even knowing the plot."
A quiet chuckle leaves your lips, soft as the rustle of leaves in a night breeze. It's a sound laced with both amusement and wonder, and it catches Wonwoo off-guard, sending a shiver down his spine, and maybe his heart to race a little faster too.
"What?" he asks, voice coming out a bit hoarse and deep.
"Just..." Your voice trails off, tracing patterns on your bedsheets below your fingers. "The way you put it. Coming home. It's comforting... somehow."
"Comforting?" he repeats, surprised. "Death usually doesn't get that label."
You snort, letting your body fully face him now. "I know. I just... I guess I'm a little scared. So I like to think that it's, um, different for everyone, you know? Like maybe... it's your favourite dream, or the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen, or a room with everyone you've ever loved. Or maybe..." You pause, unable to voice the thought twisting your gut. "...it's just nothing. Just darkness."
You watch as Wonwoo turns his body to face you fully, a soft, understanding smile playing on his lips. Your eyes drop down to his mouth for a second, a breath catching in your throat, before meeting his gaze. You've always admired how his eyes look, but there's something about it right now𑁋the way the lights catches them, like flecks of stardust scattered across the night sky𑁋that makes you feel so small.
Yet you also hate how it's so beautiful, like something you think you can look at forever, even though 'forever' is simply just a concept, isn't it?
So you really wish he can he can just freakin' close them𑁋
"Please don't look at me like that," You mutter aloud as you break the eye contact, feeling a sudden vulnerability run through you.
Wonwoo blinks, puzzled. "Huh? I'm just looking𑁋"
"You look at me like... like every𑁋actually, just forget about it." You suddenly sit up in bed, taking in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. "Forget everything I just said."
Your abrupt shift hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken words louder than any you'd spoken. Wonwoo's brows furrow as he sits himself up on your bed as well, a frown now etching across his features, his hand hovering in mid-air as if reaching out to you but unsure where to land.
"I... Did I say something wrong?" he asks, quietly and cautiously. Seriously, why does he have to exist? He's just looking at you, he's right, but the way he does it feels like he's seeing right through you, straight to the raw, exposed core of your fears and feelings. "I'm sorry if I did."
You shake your head. "No, you didn't. I-I'm sorry. I ruined the moment."
The air around you is thick with something unspoken, a lingering tension that hints at a conversation left unfinished. You can practically feel Wonwoo's gaze burning into the back of your neck, even though you can't bring yourself to look back at him. Your fingers play absentmindedly with the edge of your bedsheets, lips pursing together into a tight, straight line. You don't know where to go from here.
And then, Wonwoo takes a leap of faith. "Can you... tell me how I look at you?"
You feel yourself hesitate, the question catching you slightly off-guard, an unexpected flip of the script that leaves you momentarily speechless. It was like he'd plucked the very thought you wished he wouldn't voice: the one that made your throat constrict and your stomach flip. When you turn back to him, he's already looking at you, and you feel that vulnerable feeling again.
"It's like... I-I don't know. You just..." You begin, searching for the right words to say. "You look at me like you're telling me that everything's okay."
There's a dance of emotions that flicker on his face at your words, like he's trying to process everything and nothing at once.
"Oh," is all he mutters out, the single word hanging heavy in the air between you.
"Yeah, and I really hate you for that," You say heartedly, attempting to lighten the mood.
Wonwoo giggles nervously. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?"
"For... um, looking at you like𑁋"
"No, I'm sorry for falling for you," You confess, a half-smile playing on your lips. "I tried not to, but... I did."
For a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic click of the clock on your wall. You watch him closely, heart hammering against your ribs, waiting for some reaction, any reaction. You almost wish you could take it back, swallow it whole and pretend it never happened.
"And I guess that's why I'm scared," You continue on, knowing there's no going back now. "scared to lose this, to lose you, that something as inevitable as... you know, death, will take it all away."
"You're not going to lose me," Wonwoo reassures. "I'm right here."
A small, appreciative smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "You say that like you can control everything."
"I know I can't," he admits with a gentle chuckle. "but I can promise to be here for as long as possible."
A heartbeat passes, then another. Wonwoo swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry from your locked gazes. There's that look in his eyes again, the one that sends butterflies to your stomach and makes your heart flutter so clumsily. You feel the heat crawling up your cheeks, because dammit you really could push him off the bed right now.
You let out a cough, face feeling hot. "Anyway, can you reject me so I can move on?"
A playful grin stretches across his face. It starts small, perhaps a hesitant curve at the corner of his lips, but it blossoms quickly like a sunrise chasing away the night.
"Reject you?" he questions in disbelief, peering at you as if you were crazy. "Why on earth would I do that?"
"Well," You start. "because it's the only way for me to get over you, obviously. Oh, and so I can stop tripping over my own feet every time you're around and move on."
Wonwoo throws his head back and laughs, the sounds coming deep within his chest. You would never get tired of his laugh. "And who said I wanted to reject you?"
It's your turn for the smile to your face to fade just slightly, mouth agape as if you're about to say something, but nothing comes out.
Wonwoo scoffs. "I like you too, you know. I was just waiting for you to figure it out."
Now it's your turn to blink in disbelief.
"You... like me?"
He just shrugs, but the curve to his lips remains.
"Maybe that's why I look at you the way I do," he tells you, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours on the bed. "because you make everything feel okay."
taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9
#kflixnet#k-labels#caratsland#caratlibrary#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fic#jeon wonwoo imagines#jeon wonwoo fluff#jeon wonwoo x reader#svt imagines#svt fic#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt#seventeen
645 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birthday Morning
Masterlist
Summary: Javi’s birthday morning is always calm, considering it’s the only time of the day he’ll get this tranquility
Pairing: Retired!Dad!Javier Peña x Fem!Mum!Reader
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: suggestiveness ;) gasp! Mads not writing age gap for once, oh my goodness!
Word Count: 436 (only a drabble I’m sorry)
A/N: My second one shot for Pedro’s birthday, a gift from me to you to spark our love for him 🩷 I love you all my loves
The light through the blinds from the sun wakes Javi from his dreamless sleep, it warms his back as his eyes flutter open. He rolls over but the sight of his wife isn’t there, just empty sheets. So Javier did what any man would do: he laid there for a few minutes, waking himself up, before pulling on a pair of sweatpants, that were strewn on the floor from the night before, and trundled his way around the house to find his wife.
And the kitchen was where he found you. Multiple pans sizzling and the coffee machine boiling. You’re humming a sweet tune as he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder.
“You smell good,” He murmurs, placing a kiss in the crook of your neck.
“Really, I haven’t showered yet?” You smile and he chuckles.
“Where are the kids?” He asks, noticing the unfamiliar quietness of the house.
“School, I took them in a few hours ago,” You explain. “Thought you could use the sleep.” Javi chuckles again. “Then I got back and thought I should make you some breakfast.”
“Well, who needs breakfast when I’ve got you…” Javi smirks, the bristles of his moustache tickling your neck, both this sensation and his words cause you to shiver.
“Well you’ve got from now until tomorrow morning to have me,” You chuckle. “So why don’t you wait five minutes?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“I managed to convince your dad to take the kids for tonight, but if you get tired of me, then I have no problem going and grabbing them,” You smile cheekily, Javi laughs.
“When could I ever get tired of you?” He asks, placing his hands on the back of your thighs. “They sore?”
“A little… I had trouble walking this morning,” You chuckle. “Had to lie to Bailey’s teacher that I had been riding a bike for too long—“
“Should change my name to bike.”
“Yeah,” You scoff. “Then Bailey looked up at me with suspicious eyes and said ‘But mama, you don’t have a bike?’ And then ran off to go play with their friends, so I turned around and said, ‘Better get home to bike, it’s his birthday’.”
“Well, drop off will be extremely awkward tomorrow,” Javi chuckles as he takes the coffee mug from the counter and sips. “Javier ‘Bike’ Peña.” You let out a laugh and kiss his cheek.
“How do you feel, now that you’re old?”
“Oof, you’re not that far behind me,” He smiles.
“Yet, still not 49,” You grin before kissing him softly, you hear the coffee mug being placed back on the counter before feeling his hands slip round your waist. You pull away jut for a second to whisper against his lips. “Happy birthday Javi.”
#slvtforoldermen#pedro pascal#javier pena x reader#javier peña#javier pena fluff#no smut for once :0#happy birthday pedro my love 🩷🩷🩷#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fluff
358 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dreamless AU: Lurien the Watcher
An intro post to Lurien as he is in my AU.
“Atonement, for the death I have wrought. It is only right that it should be I to sleep eternally. I have caused enough suffering.”
Born to a quiet family of musicians, it came as a shock to everyone that knew him when Lurien joined the Pale Court at the tender age of 22. He was known for the heartrending melodies he produced under his fingers, the harmonies he could weave with his parents and his older sibling, and occasionally, the bright and bold splashes of his art, but not for the confidence the hectic buzz of life in the Court undoubtedly demanded. But he desired a way to give back to this kingdom in whatever way he could, and he dedicated himself to its betterment.
Though initially shy, his sharp mind was quickly revealed as he rose through the ranks of the court at a speed never before seen. Ruthlessly smart and unafraid to challenge the ideas of his superiors despite his chronic anxiety, it was not long before the King himself caught notice of him, and he was offered a seat on the panel of the King’s advisors. He gave himself to it, serving his King and kingdom with the utmost sincerity; he had been afforded a chance to truly make a difference, and despite his doubts about his abilities, he was not going to waste his chances.
He did not think much of the Pale Root that abruptly appeared at his King’s side. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he should have taken note of the strained relations between Hallownest and Zelseq following her appearance. Perhaps he should have sensed the tension between the moths and his city as she made herself known. But it was not until one of them came bursting out of the sky, bright red magic glowing in their hands, that he realized.
Instinct took over him. He would give anything for his kingdom, for his King. And so he pushed his King out of the way, and took the brunt of the magic himself.
When he came to, permanently injured, he learned of the death of the moth that attacked him, personally killed by the Pale King. Later, he is alerted of the measures taken to ensure nothing like this tragedy will ever happen again. He could not see it, but he felt—still feels—the blood on his hands, the acrid tang of the death he caused clinging to his fingers. Sometimes, it would uncoil from his hands and crawl its way down his throat, choking him. He forced it down; anything for his kingdom. Anything. Anything to make this horror bearable.
After a period of recovery, Lurien was officially crowned as the Pale King’s most trusted advisor. The weight of his words was a wing’s width away from the Pale King’s; he was everything he had ever wished for. He threw himself into it, burying himself in his work to stave off the guilt corroding him from the inside out, lest they find him collapsed in a corner, screaming to drown it out. He could not let them know.
Ignorant to his internal struggles, many in Hallownest regarded him as a hero. One of them, the disadvantaged and the disabled, was part of the high court of Hallownest, a dream beyond dreams that they never thought could have been achieved. They came to him with their worries, their needs, and he, with his newfound authority, enacted change he had never previously realized was sorely needed. Roads were made safer; funding for service grubs dramatically increased; sign language literacy blossomed. Even when he moved to his newly constructed Spire for privacy, many still came to converse and consult with him, seeking the help they knew he would give. They regarded him as their Watcher, He who watches over and protects the people. He could only reluctantly accept his title.
And without a doubt, all the love he held—still holds, after all this time—for the city and its inhabitants was mirrored by the Pale King. The two of them grew close, much closer than he could have ever imagined, and the closer they got, the more he wished he had never joined the Pale Court to begin with. He loved him, he had done it all for him. His love tasted like blood, like sacrifice, and even the tiniest drop made his stomach turn. But he could not let him know. After all, he is but a mere mortal. It is not his place to reject the love of a god.
When he was asked to become a Dreamer, he did not hesitate. It is only fair; he caused this all. No one else should have to carry the burden he created, and he would not push it onto any other person. If his sacrifice means his city, his people, can be spared of warfare between gods, then he will have truly served his kingdom.
The Sealing was quick, quicker than he expected, releasing him into an endless expanse of his own mind. His dreams are uneasy, constantly returning to where it all began. And haunting him, perpetually in the corner of his vision, is the moth he killed.
His apology always lodges itself in his throat, choking him.
#hollow knight#dreamless au#dreamless whispers#lurien the watcher#whatever i said about this man before applies doubly now#he needs a Break#he will get it eventually but he goes into the trauma blender first
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro
This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...
Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.
Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.
Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.
Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.
Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.
But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.
Simon who...
Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.
"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'
....
" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."
....
"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."
He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..
a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!
Yours, truly,
–dolly
#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod imagine#cod x reader angst#ghost x reader angst#Ouchy my feelings#call of duty x reader#x gn reader#x female reader#x male reader
441 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pieces Part 2
Pairing: Azriel x Reader.
Summary: You finally confront Azriel about your feelings which ends in huge argument.
A/N: thank you to everyone who read and loved Pieces. I tried my best to make Azriel up to your expectations. I hope you all like this!
Pieces Masterlist
○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●
I stopped making efforts with Azriel.
I stopped talking to him. Stopped waking up with him to wish him goodbye at the door. Stopped asking him about his day at dinner. Even stopped waiting for him to eat. I make our lunch, eat and get out of the house. Walking until I'm sure he's gone again. Come home make dinner, eat and sleep without waiting for him.
I accepted the fact that he doesn't want me anymore.
He still kisses me goodbye though.
So I guess there is still hope but I don't want it.
I open my eyes and glance to Azriel's empty bedside. I rub my eyes, already feeling tired even though I just started my day. I havn't been getting good enough sleep lately, staying up almost every night, rethinking everything over and over again. And when I do get sleep, it's always dreamless. I always feel like I fell alseep just a minute ago. I sit up on my bed to find a note on the bedside.
Dinner at Rhys tonight.
Four plain words in Azriel's handwriting. He didn't even sign it with his name. I sigh and get up from bed. I don't want to face anyone right now. I'm too tired to put on an act of being happy. Well at least I won't have to make food.
My throat feels scratchy. I warm up a little water to relieve the soreness but it doesnt make any difference. I suddenly sneeze, covering my face and freeze after realization finally hits me. I'm sick. I groan.
Can this day get any worse?
-☆-
When we arrived at the river house, I conversed with everyone for a while, catching up on everything after not seeing any of them for so long.
Feyre complemented my dress and commented on how my face looks different. I laughed a little saying that's because she hadn't seen me in so long, hoping my smile and lie seemed real enough for her to not get suspicious.
When I sneezed and coughed again, she figured I was sick and scolded me a little for coming, saying I should've stayed home and rested. I shrugged at that.
When we sat down on the table, Azriel whispered to me,"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" To which I had kept looking away and answered,"You didn't ask." He didn't say anything else to me and neither did I to him. In fact I didn't talk to anyone much and only spoke when asked to do so the whole time.
"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Azriel questioned when we walk into our house. I hang my coat on the coat stand and remove my shoes, taking my time answering him and finally say,"As I said before, you didn't ask."
"How was I supposed to know? And you didn't even spend much time with me. You went straight to Feyre, the second we entered and didn't talk to me at all the whole night." I could hear irritation in his voice which made me clench my jaw.
I took a deep breath,"I didn't realise you missed me so much considering you were glued to Elain all night." I spit out without looking at him and walk to our bedroom.
"What do you mean by that?" He follows me.
"Nothing." I sigh not wanting to have this argument right now but, of course, he doesn't care about that.
"No, tell me." He frowned.
"You talked to Elian all night so I thought, maybe I shouldn't disturb whatever conversation you must have going on." My lips thin as I look up at him.
"I had no choice but to talk to her because you didn't talk to me and and we were the only two people left alone." He said.
"Alright. But that was tonight. What about that other days and nights you spend with her? You like her. I get it. You don't need to explain yourself." My eyes fill with unwanted tears and I look away from him. I try to get away from him but he grabs my arm to keep me there.
"Yes, I like talking to her, but I would prefer to talk to you more." He says softly. I scoff.
"Don't lie az. Do us both a favor and accept it that you like her company better. I have." I snatch my arm back and try to walk away. He still follows me.
"No. I admit I like her company but no more than yours. You are more important." He stops in front of me.
"I don't believe that." A tear falls down my face. His eyes look into mine with confusion. "I watch you with her. How happy and content you look in her presence. Everyday you come home, speak barely two words to me and go back to her again." I fold my arms on my chest and look down. "You spend the time with her that youre suppose to spend with me. You tell her the things you should tell me. Your like her. More than me."
"That's not true. My love, I like you a lot more than her. You are the most important to me." His hand wips my tears and rests on my cheek. I rip it off me. "I don't believe you." I look at him with anger.
"You tell me Azriel, when was the last time you commented on my cooking? The last time you told how I looked? When was the last time you asked me how I was doing? When was the last time you held me? The last time you truly listened to me?" His expression falls in realisation, as my questions grow. "When was the last time you told you loved me and fucking meant it?!" I breath heavy, looking at his face tilted down, eyes cast down.
"I-," He clears his throat. "I did always meant when I said I loved you."
I turn to the other side. I can't look at him. I cover my eyes and try to focus on settling down my breathing. "I think you should leave." I whisper and turn to him again.
His head snaps to mine. "No! No. No. No. Don't push me away. Please." His voice cracks and a tear falls down his eyes. "Please give me a chance to fix this. Please don't push me away." His hands on either side of me and puts his forehead against mine, eyes looking into mine filled with tears and anguish.
"You pushed me away first." I whisper, gently taking his hands off of me and his face crumbles as more tears fall down. I cry with him.
"I just need time." I watch him nod silently, wiping his face clear with his hands while stepping away from me.
"Okay. I'll be in the house of wind. Please come to me when you're ready. I want to fix this. I don't want to let you go." I nod silently, not trusting my words.
I watch him nod again and go out of the door, leaving me alone in the house we bought together. Leaving me alone for my thoughts and memories to haunt me in the dead of the night. I'll be alright though. I'll take my time to think everything through. I'll heal myself then think about giving azriel a chance to heal us.
I just need time.
○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●
Tags: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @crazylokonugget
#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#acotar#azriel angst#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel#azriel x femalereader#pieces
488 notes
·
View notes
Text
i'll dry the villain's tears pt.1
you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.
all entries are meant to be read as platonic. All are meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game.
When you awaken one morning, you find yourself nursing the worst headache of your life. Your eyes refuse to open as you hear a door open and the sound of shuffling footsteps. You quietly will whoever entered your room to leave but you can't even bring yourself to speak a single word and instead, only a huff of breath escapes your lips.
You can almost feel tears build up in your eyes as you feel a blissfully cold towel be pressed against your forehead and the small fingers that accompany it. Though they shake from nerves, they know what they're doing despite how young they obviously appear to be. With what is last of your strength, you force your eyes to open and quietly watch as the young boy in front of you lowers his hands until they reach his chest, his head tucked far between his shoulders, almost as if he was frightened of you waking up.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, gray eyes nervously swaying, "I thought that - you - you were burning up and the doctor said... I know it's not perfect, but I got worried and..."
His little body hid his shakes well but his voice betrayed him. He wanted to make sure you were ok but he was worried his attempts weren't good enough. For your sake or his own, you weren't entirely sure.
"Thank you..."
He almost didn't hear your soft whisper but when he did, he seemed to bloom. With pride, with happiness, with acceptance. As if that one little sincere word was the nicest thing he's ever heard in his entire existence.
"Get some rest, Mother," the boy spoke softly, his words more firm in their affection, "I'll make sure to wake you for your dinner. As soon as Mr. Bandersnatch heard that you fell ill and, although you said you don't much care for him, he's been causing quite a fuss a.."
Everything after that was lost to you as you faded away into a deep and dreamless sleep, the only thought left on the tip of your tongue was a quiet curse.
You've been reborn as the tyrant Queen of Heart's mother.
You awaken one day with perhaps the largest bump you've ever seen placed nearly perfectly center on your forehead. You don't remember how you got it but the two princes never left your side (Falena would not stop crying and despite his claims of laughter at your expense, you can tell his brother was equally worried), only being dragged away by their tutor as soon as they let their guard down.
You looked down at the hands on your lap and clutched your fists open and closed over and over again. Gone were your long fingers and wide palms, instead you look down at the chubby hands of a child no more then six.
From what your handmaiden had told you, the three of you had been playing spelldrive together and Leona, in his eagerness to best his brother, had shot the disk perhaps a bit too strong and instead of flying in to the goal, it had changed course and struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious for the rest of the early hours of the morning.
You remembered this event. It's what led to Falena's betrothed sticking closer to him and farther from Leona. What once was a well balanced trio had become a teeter totter with Falena and her on one side and Leona alone, unable to change anything with what little weight he had to offer.
Falena's betrothed; that was you. From the story you had read, the two were deeply in love and ruled the kingdom hand in hand towards a brighter future... all while unknowingly leaving the youngest brother in the shadows, forgotten and alone and desperate. You couldn't afford for that to happen.
You don't see the two of them until late that evening. Falena looked exhausted, like the tutoring had beaten any last bit of energy he could spare and with a loud yawn, had eagerly hopped into the cot next to you on your right. Leona was slow to join but settled himself to your left, his shoulder bumping yours.
"You look ridiculous," he spoke aloud, glancing at your bruised forehead. You just gave him your most unimpressed stare you could manage.
"Aaah! They're bleeding!"
"Ahahaha!"
"Ow!! They're biting me!! Get a teacher!!"
You couldn't see anything past the arms and tails flailing around you as you reached out and clawed and bit at anything that dared get too close to you, lashing out with everything your new and tiny body would allow. Your teeth were currently sunk deep in the tail flesh of a mermaid boy, his fists digging into your hair as he tried to pull you off of him.
Blinking past the shock, you could only bite harder, unwilling to let go of your prey. Despite the danger you were posing, you couldn't remember why you were biting this hard. Why this particular mermaid? What had he done that was worthy of your bite? It all didn't matter much as you were quickly hoisted up by the back of your neck and away from the shrieking mass of children. You could taste blood and flesh between your sharp teeth and you loudly spit it out, earning an even bigger wave of a response from the students.
"This is why we can't have piranhamer with the other students!" Cried an adult, "They only cause trouble!" They looked towards the source of the problem. Away from the other children and the source of your outuburst lied cowering octomer, spluttering and crying.
"What happened?" Your teacher seethed, eyes abruptly turning to you.
"I-I," you were taken aback that no one seemed to be comforting the child who stood alone and in a fit of rage unknown to you, you kicked and clawed at the hand holding you, your tiny fists barely making them flinch "They were bullying him!! I hate it!! I'll bite them over and over until they apologize!!"
"He's weird!" One mermaid child cried, her arms crossed, "And he made us lose in our swimming game because he's so slow and f-"
The teacher quickly reaffirmed their grip on you as you lunged towards her, your jaw snapping loudly causing her to shriek and dart behind the others, her tail barely peaking out from the crowd of mer.
Two eels watched in mild curiosity as you continued gnawing on your teachers arm, one with his arms crossed and another with an almost devilish grin on his face.
"Eheheh~ I like that one, Azul! Neh neh, Jade~ We should keep the little bitey one!"
"Fufufu~"
"Snff... snff......"
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#reader insert#twisted wonderland#isekai#azul ashengrotto#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar
776 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟓𝟏
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞
↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟕𝐤
↬ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐃𝐃/𝐋𝐆 (𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝟎𝐦/𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥) 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠
The buzzing of your phone on the nightstand wakes you up from your dreamless sleep and just as you're about to move around to turn your alarm off, you're reminded of the strong arm around your waist as it pulls you further into the warm chest pressed into your back.
It's only then that you remember how and who you fell asleep next to, a cheeky smile creeping up on your face as soon as the realisation hits you.
Jongseong is still in bed with you. On a weekday.
To your surprise, he's not only still in bed with you but seems to be peacefully asleep, something you're not quite used to when it comes to your hardworking boyfriend.
In the back of your mind you had hoped that he'd stay, especially after a night like yesterday's, yet for some reason you didn't allow yourself to indulge in those hopes, as you were too scared of them being empty yet again.
It doesn't take much longer for more images of the previoos nught to sneak into your head, but for the first time in your life you know you won't let them win no matter what.
You haven't fell asleep and woken up next to your boyfriend in weeks, there's no way you're going to let your anxiety and destructive brain take this away from you again.
There's so much to unpack about the whole situation about your brothers and the bodyguards, you know Jongseong will want to talk about, but you simply don't have the mental energy to waste on those men anymore. You've been fightem then alongside your mental demons for the past two decades and dor the first time in your life you just want to live a single day without thinking about them for once.
Of course this won't make them any less dangerous or threatening, but it will give you the temporary inner peace you need and mostly deserve.
So, determined to not waste any more of your energy on those stupid bastards, you let out a soft sigh and turn around in Jongseong's arms to bury your face in the crook of his warm neck, inhaling his sweet scent the way you did to fall asleep and enjoying every single second of this rare occasion.
Unfortunately you're very much aware of the fact that your second alarm is going to go off any second now as the both of you have to get ready for work.
"Jongie", you whisper against his soft skin and pull your head back to have a good look ag him, hating yourself and the universe for having to wake him up.
He hasn't slept longer than four hours ever since your trip to Jeju and you can't wait to basically kidnap him to a different city and just make sure that man finally gets the sleep him and his body need.
"Wake up, my love", you sigh and place a soft kiss on his chin, "we have to get ready for work."
The sweet sound of your voice gently pulls him into consciousness, something he has yet to get used to, especially after unintentionally depriving himself of it for so long. As your words slowly push their way through the sleepy fog in his head, Jongseong suddenly deicdes to adapt to a completely new routine just to wake up like this until his last day on this earth.
"We're both calling in sick", he suddenly grunts, his voixe deeper and raspier than usual, the sound so unfamiliar, it leaves you lightheaded and shoots a jolt of hot arousal right in between your legs.
"We can't just do that, pretty face", you say with a soft chuckle, hoping for the aching in your lower body to just disappear if you try to overplay it hard enough, "we have meetings and appointments with important clients today."
"Why not? I'm the CEO and owner of the company, they should be grateful I even considered giving them some of my precious time. They can wait a day or two."
Jay's words surprise you as much as they turn you on and you hate your body for betraying you like this. Today is probably just an exception yet you can't help but feel your hopes rising all the way to the sky.
You try to think of something to respond, but you're too mesmerized by the sight of a sleepy Park Jongseong. The way his hair is messily falling into his slightly flushed face, eyes hooded as they're getting used to the sunlight exposure, his pretty lips pushed into a cute little pout and his big hand gently caressing your back.
The longer you look at him, the more you fall in love with him and for a moment you forget whag the two of you were even talking about.
"Don't look at me like that, Baby or I'll make them wait a week or two", Jay teases softly, his hand now moving to your thigh as the other one remains underneath your waist, busy drawing random circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your camisole.
"Oh", you blurt when you realise how obviously you've been staring at him as embarrassment quickly takes over your body, "I'm sorry, Jongie, I didn't mean to. You just look really pretty when you wake up."
"My sweet little angel baby", Jay begins and pushes the bem of your camisole all the way up to your hips, exposing your bare thigh to his greedy touch so easily, "don't ever be sorry for eyefucking me with those pretty eyes. I fucking love seeing you so needy for me."
You're visible surprised at his response, forgetting that your boyfriend has always read your facial expressions as well as your bidy language quite easily and for some reason you can't help but feel even more embarrassed.
"What's going through that sweet head of yours, Baby? Why are you so hesitant?"
You nervously pull your bottom lip in between your teeth as a wave of shame overwhelms you, yet you can't really put a name on the reason behind it.
The past few weeks you've always been the one to initiate intimacy and after losing yourself in quite a few anxious thoughts the previous night, you can't help but let them win yet again.
You know Jongseong's been quite busy, nobody knows it as good as you do. However him not initiating anything these past few weeks has definitely made you feel anlot more insecure than you would like to admit, simply because it feels like he only does it for you and not because he actually wants it.
"I'm sorry for always being so needy", you whisper and bury your face in his neck, "I don't mean to push you so much."
Jongseong is flabbergasted, to say the least.
He's never expected this to be the reason for your change in demeaner and as the realisation hits him, he can't help but let okt a lighthearted chuckle.
"Oh, Baby", he sighs and reaches for your cheek to pull your face away from his neck and meet your glossy gaze, "do you really feel guilty for wanting me so often?"
"Yes", you don't hesitate with your response, too lost in the way he's looking at you with such sweetness and adoration, "you usually don't iniate intimacy and it made me realise that maybe you don't actually want me as often as I want you."
Yet again, Jongseong feels overwhelmed by your statement. Never in a million years could he have expected your thoughts to be as mean as this and as his eyes roam your soft face, his heart aches in his chest.
"And that's okay. I know I can be insatiable sometimes. I hope you know that doesn't mean I only want you for your body. You're so much more to me than sex, I just have a very high libido." Your voice is small and uncertain, filled with insecurity and self doubt, a sound so heartbreaking, Jongseong feels his chest tightening in despair.
"Come here, Baby", is the first thing your sleepy boyfriend replies before he pushes the blanket away from your bodies and guides you to straddle his lap.
You physically can't stop a tiny little gasp to leave your lips as you come in sudden contact with the hard bunge in Jong's boxer briefs, something you haven't felt this way in a lot longer than you thought.
It's not like the two of you hadn't fucked each other in the past few weeks, unfortunately there was never much time for any foreplay and it usually ended in a quickie which stilled your hunger for a few hours. Most of the time Jongseong made sure to have you fall apart on his fingers first followed by him doing just the right things with his cock to drive you into insanity. He also tried his best to give you just enough aftercare to help you regain your composure but you couldn't help but crave more. The lack of actual sensitivity in those moments was probably what resulted in your insatiable hunger for him and his touch.
Without missing a beat, you press your hands flat against his inked chest, caressing the soft skin and circling your hips without even realising it.
"My soft little angel girl", Jongseong sighs and starts kneading the soft flesh of your thighs in his hands, "I'm sorry for not talking to you about this more. Your silly little brain probably gave you such a hard time about this, didn't it?"
"Yes, Jongie", you sigh and look at him with needy, glossy eyes, a sight so pure, so beautiful, the young man has yet to get used to it's effects on his body.
"And is that the reason why you've been more hesitant about indulging in the whole Daddy thing lately, Baby?", he calmly responds as his eyes never once shift away from your face and where you feel like a kid being caught doing something they're not supposed to do, your boyfriend seems more than just amused by your responsive body language.
"I guess it is. But I promise I didn't do it intentionally."
"You're so fucking cute", is his instinctive response to your answer and with a soft sigh, you push your lips into a pout and let your hands find his on your thighs, absentmindedly playing with his pretty fingers to distract yourself from the feeling of embarrassment filling your veins.
"My Baby", Jay then begins, his voice slightly deeper as he notices the feeling of your wetness making its way through the thin fabric of your panties, "I know I haven't been the best boyfriend lately and I promise you to make up for every sinfle doubt and bad thought I've caused you."
You're about to interrupt his little apology and reassure him, but Jongseong doesn't let you. He's determined to say what he's been dying to for the past fourtyeight hours and no matter how badly you want him to believe that his behavior is somehow justified and okay, he knows it's not and that's why he won't allow you to intervene. Not this time.
Before your brain can even process it, you find yourself on your back, your boyfriend casually moving to lay in between your legs. Jay's face is as close to yours as physically possible and his nose gently nudges yours before he places the most delicate kiss on your parted lips.
"I haven't paid much attention to you and didn't make any efforts to actively include you into my daily routine outside of work and that wasn't okay. Yet, I hope you know that from now on that's going to change", with every single one of his words, Jay pushes you deeper into the mattress until you can practically feel his heart beating against your chest.
"No more early mornings to work out and as little long days as possible. It took me a bit but I finally realised that I am the boss and I do have the privilege to cancel and postpone appointments to make time for my girl. It won't always be like that and at times I'll be at work more than I'd like to be but at the end of the day I'm always going to try my best to come home to fall asleep with you. Not after you."
Jongseong doesn't give you enough time to actually process his sweet words as he pulls you into a hungry kiss and allows you to lose youdself in the sweet feeling of comfort and warmth it comes with.
Just as usual, Jay's kisses are slow and sensual. At first. But the harder he starts grinding his hard cock against your clothed cunt, the sloppier and needier they become. It doesn't take much time for your usually so composed boyfriend to grunt and moan into your mouth, loving the way you swallow every single one of his noises.
"And please don't ever be sorry for wanting me so often. Touching you, being intimate with you, being the one to pleasure you – and everything it comes with, is a privilege to me. Knowing you want me so much is what keeps me sane, Baby", Jay looks at you with soft eyes and just as usual, the expression in his gaze matches his words perfectly. It's like he makes sure you can physically see how honest he's being with you.
"I need it, angel girl", he suddenly grunts and buries his face in your neck, "Daddy needs you to need him, Baby. It's everything I've been daydreaming about for all my life. To be needed, wanted and loved by my person. By you. Please, don't take this away from me."
You're hearing his little pleas and his sweet, needy request, yet you're brain is already too fogged up by all the arousal rushing through your body as the tip of his clothed cock hits your sensitive clit with every single one of his precise thrusts.
"Louder, Baby", Jay suddenly commands, the urge to hear your moans and whimpers overwhelming him after the both of you had to keep quiet the last few times you've gotten intimate.
"Please, Daddy", your response comes quicker and more desperate than you expected it to, but you're simply too far gone already to care.
"What do you want, angel girl? Use those big girl words for Daddy, I know you can do it."
You start nodding like your life depends on it, your hands find home in his thick hair as Jongseong slowly kisses his way down your neck and to your cleavage, sucking the skin into his mouth every now and then right before his hands grab the hem of your camisole and pull it over your head in one swift motion.
"There she is, my perfect little angel", Jongseong sighs and comes to sit up on his knees right between your legs.
"Please, Daddy", you whimper yet again, reaching for his hands to get him to just somehow touch your needy cunt again.
You subconsciously wait dor him to scold you for not doing as you're told, however you definitely don't expect him to land a harsh spank on your clothed cunt. The stinging pain sends you into the sweetest haze of pleasure and with your head thrown back into the pillow, you struggle to build a single rational thought.
"Good girls use their words when they want something", Jay says sternly, his eyes hooded yet filled with such intense hunger, you feel your juices drip out of your clenching hole the longer you look at him.
"I need you to", you're still hesitant but quickly realise that there's no way Jong's going to give into your little insecurities now, so without wasting any more time, you blurt out the rest of your request.
"Eat my pussy", you dig your nails into his wrist as the pain of his tight grip on your inner thigh has your head spinning like crazy, "please, Daddy. I need you to eat my pussy, wanna cum all over your face."
"There you go, that's my good girl. Was that so hard, Baby?"
Jay can't help but feel amused by the sweet look of embarasin your eyes as you look at him, lips parted, hair messy, legs spread wide enough to put your drenched panties on full display for his hungry gaze.
"Don't tease me", you spit and roll your eyes in faux annoyance, followed by desperately trying to hide just how flustered you are because of the breathtakingly beautiful smirk grazing his plumps lips.
"Now, that was a mistake, pretty girl", Jay chuckles and lets his fingers graze your inner thigh right before he lands another hard spank on your sensitive pussy.
"You know I'll just tease you even more if you tell me not to."
"Daddy, please touch me. No more spanks. Need you to touch me."
For a moment you're genuinely surprised by your lack of hesitance but then again it makes sense as all your senses are captivated by Park Jongseong's sweet scent, his touche and his taste lingering on your tongue like a drug.
Jongseong doesn't say a single word until bends down to push his cheek against your inner thigh, dangerously glose to where you need him the most.
The fact you're still very much wearing your now ruined panties is definitely not helping with your impatience.
"Beg a little more, pretty girl", Jay teases and pulls the soaked fabric to the side only to blow cold air against your sensitive flesh.
"F-Fuck", you're quick to arch your back in hopes of getting him to finally do what you've asked for multiple times by now, only for Jay to pull away with another row of soft chuckles.
"Aww, look at my Baby. You're so needy, angel girl. Apparently too needy to use your manners for Daddy, hm?"
"Please", you beg softly, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes and you tighten your grip on his thick hair, "please, Daddy. I've been waiting so long for this. Don't I deserve this?"
And that little rhetorical question is what has Jongseong halt his movements like he's jusg seen a ghost.
"Of course, princess", your boyfriend whispers with tiny bits of guilt gleaming in his sweet eyes, "of course you deserve this."
If your brain wasn't as clouded by the arousal, you would have had enough time to feel bad about using such strategies to get what you want but after barely remembering what his mouth feels like on you, you can't help but feel grateful it worked. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Before either one of you can get out another word, Jongseong finally licks a long strip over the length of your soaked cunt followed by shameleslly sucking your sensitive kiss into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue.
The suddenness of his actions knock every last breath out of your lungs and with a loud gasp you push your hips further into his face, back arched and head thrown back with the loudest moan of his name.
It doesn't take much for Jongseong to completely lose himself in the sweet taste of your juices as he laps up every single drop, filling the room with loud sucking and slurping noises as well as his muffled moans the second he pushes his tongue into your tight hole.
You can tell how hard he's trying to maintain his composure but every time your gaze meets his, you realisd how far gone he already is. Eyes hooded, cheeks flushed, half of his face coated in your wetness as he digs his bails knto your soft thighs to keep your legs firmly spread for his hungry mouthy.
With every skill flick of his tongue against your hardened clit, you feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge, the taste of your sweet relief coating the entirety of your mouth and consuming your senses in the best way possible.
Not a single coherent sentence falls past your lips as the tension in your lower stomach increases and you feel yourself getting closer and closer.
"Do it, princess", Jay suddenly grunts and lifts his hand up to land a row of hard slaps against your overly sensitive pussy, the stinging pain sending your brain into overdrive and your eyes into the back of your head.
"I can feel it, you're so close. Come on, cum for Daddy, Baby. Make me proud. Claim me as yours. Cum all over my fucking face like rhe perfect princess you are."
And maybe it's the way his deep voice so close to your cunt sends vibration through your body or maybe it's the way his thumb has made it its mission to rub firm circles into your sensitive clit or maybe, just maybe it's the way he's tamking to you, but regardless of the reason, the coil kn your lower stomach still snaps as soon as your brain has processed his words.
Your high washes over you in several waves, pussy clenching down around nothing as Jay has long taken his fingers out of your tight hold to watch your juices drip out of you as you cum for him. It takes you a moment to realise that your sight has blurred and you feel your ears ringing from the intensity of your orgasm, something you've only ever experienced with Park Jongseong before and have yet to get used to.
You have absolutely no idea how much time goes by until your breathing finally goes back to normal and when your eyes meet the sighg of your boyfriend's habdsome face still firmly buried in your pussy, you nnow exactly why it took you as long as it did.
"Up here, Daddy", you pout and push your hand into his hair to grab a fistful of the thick strands and make him look at you, "can you fuck me now, please? I need to feel you fill me up with your cum so bad."
Jay smiles lazily, still quite drunk on the taste of your cum on his tongue as he's missed it a lot more than he expected. He hasn't had time to eat you out for who knows how long and it's when you look at him with big eyes and parted lips thag he decides to make it part of his new daily routine.
Not a day shall pass by where he doesn't eat rhe sweetest pussy he's ever had or he'll be dammed.
"Sorry, Baby", he sighs and absentmindedly pulls his boxer briefs down his thick thighs, revealing his painfully hard cock to your hungry eyes, "missed eating that pussy to much so i got a little dizzy. Don't think I'll last as long as usual so I might need some help."
You nervously start nibbling on your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue, the excitement bubbling and boiling in your loser tummy as your cunt clenches in response to the throbbing of his cock in his hand.
"Be a good girl for Daddy and rub that pretty clit for me, hm? Wanna cum with you this time but I'm so sensitive already. It's been so long since I've had you like this, Baby."
"Yes, Daddy, anything for you."
Your sweet words of affirmation elicit the sweetest moan from your boyfriend's throat and you attentively watch the way his hips halt their movements for a moment in response to you.
To your luck, Jay seems a lot more impatient than he claimed as he's quick to rub the tip of his sensitive cock against the wet flesh of your cunt, coating his whole length in your juices right before he lines himself up with your entrance.
"Look at Daddy, pretty girl", Jong grunts and pushes his tip inside of your tight hole just enough to reach for your free hand and intertwine your fingers with his, while his other one finds his way around your delicate throat.
"I love you", are the first tjing to leave his plump lips the second he pushes ghe first two inches of his thick cock into the tightness of your pussy, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as soon as you start clenching around him.
"Relax, angel girl. We still have a few more inches to. Daddy needs you to relax so it doesn't hurt, yeah? Be good for me, Baby."
You start nodding impatiently, almost instinctively rubbing firm circlers into your sensitive bundle of nerves the way your biyfriend did it just a few minutes ago, knowing exactly how you like it and how to get yourself to the edge as fast as possible again.
Your body slowly gets rid of the last bit of tension when Jongseong bends down to press his lips against your, not caring about how soft or sweet the kiss is, but rather focusing on the taste of your spit coating the muscle of his tongue.
By the time he finally bottoms out, you can feel your breath hitching in your throat, the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim overwhelming you just as usual.
"So fucking tight", Jay whimpers into your ear, not awake or sober enough to care about the way he sounds, "you're going to make me cum so hard, Baby. Fuck, I won't last l-long, I'm sorry."
"No, Daddy, don't be", you're quick to reassure your boyfriend, pulling on his hair and öoving your hips to meet his little thrusts, appreciative of the way he's still giving you time to adjust to his impressive size, "am close already, too. Wanna cum with you, please."
"Yeah, Baby? Gonna make a mess of Daddy's cock and cum all over me like the good girl you are, right? Go ahead then, angel girl", Jongseong's voice grows raspier, deeper and more hoarse as the pleasure and meed for relief overwhelms his whole body in the best way possible, "cum for me. Claim your man. Show me what only you get to do with my cock."
It's those exact words which push you over the edge headfirst the second time wighin just a few minutes. Jay always knows exactly what to say, he knows how possessive you are and how much yoj love claiming him. Hearing him confirm your thoughts and wants so casually never fails to leave yoj completely breathless.
And as your tight cunt starts spasmkng around his iverly sensitive cock, Jongseong quickly buries his face in your negk with a loud moan of your name right as he cums in three thick spurts and coats the soft walls of your cunt in several shades of white.
Nothing but your joined heavy breathing and the thrumming of your heartbeat in your throat fills your ears for a good five minutes, Jong's cock occasionally twitching inside of you before the sensitivity becomes too much for the both of you and he decides to pull out with a soft pout on his plump lips.
You allow yourself to devour the sight of his flushed skin, from his cheeks all the way down to his lean chest covered in the prettiest shade of pink, his messy hair falling into his face and reminding you both of his need of a haircut.
"Shower or some more sleep?" Jay mumbles softly againsg dour lips and pushes the few strands of hair away from your pretty face to get a better look at you.
"We have to go to work, Daddy", you reply instead and earn youeself another roll of his eyes.
"Your boss doesn't feel very well so he wants you to cancel all of his appointments for today. He said he needs to have some one on one time with his beautiful girlfriend or he'll actually die in agonising pain."
His exaggeration has you both burst into a fit of laughter and without even thinking of protesting any further, you just pull him into your chest and enjoy the feeling of his breathing against your neck as you both allow yourself to take a whole day off of your regular routine.
Being girlfriend and boyfriend for a whole day and nothing but that.
Just this once.
← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →
(A/N: and here we are 🤪 i know you guys probably expected smth else after the prev chap was sp emptional but i missed writing smut for them so ive been thinking about it all day and wanted to give this to you guys as 1) a little thank you for all the love ln strictly business and 2) as a was to apologize for all the heart reak in future chapters!🤕 thank you so much for everything babies, i love you so much. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!!!!💞🧸)
TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight
#enhypen social media au#enhypen smau#enhypen x female reader#enhypen smut#enhypen x you#enhypen x reader#enhypen writers#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen jay smau#enhypen jay smut#enhypen jay x reader#park jongseong smut#park jongseong smau#park jongseong social media au#park jongseong angst#park jongseong fluff#park jongseong x reader#park jay x reader
408 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birdsong
“We didn’t have to - I mean,” you try to find the right words, the ones that would make him stay with you for the evening. “You don’t have to go.”
“I was trying to be polite, innocent little bird,” he raises an eyebrow in surprise, studying you again. You sit up, leaning back on your hands as you ignore the urge to correct your sleepshirt, well aware that one breast is nearly exposed from how it now hangs. “But look at you, such a pretty mess.”
“I want you,” you hear yourself say, shocked at the bold admission. You’ve been holding back the truth of how badly you want him, but with the way his body reacted to yours, maybe it isn’t as big a long shot as you’d been telling yourself… “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you to stay.”
----
The first time you let Astarion bite your neck, and you're surprised to find just how badly it makes you want him.
Rating: E
Word Count: 2,600
Content: 18+, smut, afab reader, cunnilingus, oral sex, PiV, creampie, breeding kink if you look really hard, vampire bites,
[ao3 link]
You open your eyes, sensing something off even in your deep, dreamless sleep, and are greeted by teeth - a mouth open wide and ready to devour.
“Shit,” is all he can say as he sits back on his heels, fidgeting nervously as you sit up and pull away - some latent instinct that you need to distance yourself for safety kicking in even though you know Astarion and what he needs.
“I’m sorry, I - I only need a little blood,” he says, moving away from you and extending his hands in front of him. A gesture of peace, of safety. You don’t stand, but move to a kneeling position before him, well aware that your expression is likely one of fear and confusion.
You’d agreed after his first feeding that you’d help when you could, signaling him after a long day if you were available for him that evening. His feedings are easy now, the process so quick and painless, you rarely wake up when his teeth meet your wrist in the dead of night.
“I suppose I can help you with that,” you whisper, your voice still thick from sleep. “Um…how would you like me?”
“All over camp, love,” he smirks, and his smile only grows when he spies the quick blush that heats your cheeks at the words.
“Ha ha,” is all you manage to say, and you roll your eyes playfully.
“Since you’re awake, I’ve been hoping to try at your neck one of these lovely nights together” his eyebrows knotting together as he moves to kneel next to you. “If that’s alright with you, my sweet, little bird.”
He’d been feeding from your wrist for the last tenday, working hard to master his control when feeding, especially since your blood is the best he gets compared to all the animals and goblins the wilderness provides. You’d limited him to that, trusting he’d keep his word if he fed from you while you slept, but he’d behaved himself - proven he could control his hunger.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, darling, but I am happy to take from your wrist again. I simply wanted to avoid the risk of scarring from repeated feedings. We need to keep you pretty, don’t we?”
“Hmm,” you consider, pinching your lips together and trying not to look too bashful. The thought of his lips on your neck… “I suppose my neck is fine.”
You tried not to cringe as your voice came out in a soft squeak, laying back quickly to hide your embarrassment.
“Are you quite sure you’re comfortable with this?”
“You promise not to kill me?” Again, you try to joke, but your voice falters and only sounds tired instead.
“Feel free to push me off if you start to feel faint, you know the drill, pet,” he says softly, positioning himself over you. He smells of familiar herbs, rosemary and bergamot, and something dark but sweet as well. The feeling of his body hovering above yours, while he scoops his hand under your head so tenderly, starts an ache in your core that is wholly new. You want him to rest fully against you, to run his hands through your hair, and the thoughts make you close your eyes in hesitation.
Before you can second guess yourself and this choice, he bites down, and icy pain draws a gasp from your lips as you try to adjust to the sensation. It’s more unpleasant than your wrist, to be sure, but under this pain is a different sensation - brought on by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck, suckling at your lifeblood with combined tenderness and desperation.
You don’t expect it to light a fire in your belly, your breath hitching as his body draws closer over yours. It’s only been a second, but it feels like your whole body rewrites what you know as normal as he drinks from you.
A quiet moan escapes your lips at the feeling of him sinking onto you, a distinct hardness pressing into the gap between your thighs as he writhes against you. You’re more than familiar with how the sudden rush of energy and blood usually arouses all parts of him, but feeling it against you, against your heat, is entirely new. He whimpers in turn, his hips rolling into yours, and then you can hear his voice echoing through your mind.
“Are you still alright, sweet bird?” He asks through your shared tadpole connection, and all you can do was whimper in delight at the pet name and the purr of his voice caressing your thoughts.
The world feels fuzzy and warm as he drinks, like you indulged in too much wine before bed, and after what feels like not enough time at all, he pulls himself off. Or rather, he pulls away from your neck, but his body remains against yours, hard and panting.
You meet his ruby eyes, both of your expressions hazy and wild. He rubs the mess of red away with the back of one hand, keeping himself above you while resting on the forearm of the other. Some part of you is sad to see the red go, to see that sight of you on him swept away.
“Darling? Are you alright?” His question is little more than a whisper against your lips, he hovers so close. You could feel his cold hands softly twist in your hair, as if to bring your focus back to him, back to your body, as you reorient from the bloodloss.
“I’m fine,” but your eyes don’t leave his, even as they grow hazy with sleep and bloodloss, your body suddenly desperate for rest. But without thinking, you reach up - tangling your hands in his mess of silver hair - and tug him down into a kiss.
It’s slow at first, surprise causing him to tense for just a moment, and then he opens for you. His mouth crashing upon yours, the hardness between his legs digging into you as you fumble for more of each other, tongues dancing. The sluggish hum in your bones that’s familiar after his feedings seems to heighten the sensations of pleasure that course through you, your hands quickly moving to his sides, his back, his neck.
Before you might beg for more, he pauses and pulls away, scanning your eyes as he does.
Astarion sits up, and your body goes cold as he does - despite the fire just outside and the blankets that you were tangled in. “I’m sorry - I didn’t expect, well, to enjoy that quite so thoroughly.” He gestured with one hand to his body as he moved to stand, and your eyes fell to the obvious erection in his pants. “You were absolutely delicious.”
There are no words for what you see, the want that you feel crest within you like a tidal wave at the sight of him - of how he wants you. And you’d never seen someone so hard before…Gods…you’re speechless at the sight.
You pinch your lips into a fine line but can’t stop the smile that you know comes upon your face as you look back up to his, meeting his eyes as he winks. Your face is hot, your body feels hot - you feel unhinged by the overwhelming desire that aches for him.
“We didn’t have to - I mean,” you try to find the right words, the ones that would make him stay with you for the evening. “You don’t have to go.”
“I was trying to be polite, innocent little bird,” he raises an eyebrow in surprise, studying you again. You sit up, leaning back on your hands as you ignore the urge to correct your sleepshirt, well aware that one breast is nearly exposed from how it now hangs. “But look at you, such a pretty mess.”
“I want you,” you hear yourself say, shocked at the bold admission. You’ve been holding back the truth of how badly you want him, but with the way his body reacted to yours, maybe it isn’t as big a long shot as you’d been telling yourself… “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you to stay.”
“Oh you wicked little thing,” Astarion grins, “I noticed how you pant and writhe when I’m lost in your blood. But I had no idea how desperately you desired me.”
“Well, then stay. Stay and fuck me, Astarion.”
“I do love a woman who knows what she wants,” and with a swift, fluid motion, he tugs his shirt over his shoulders and his perfect chest is bared for you. You smile and lean back, tugging him against you as you do - propriety be damned.
His mouth meets yours again in another chaotic, crashing kiss that tears a moan from you as his fingers go to the buttons of your sleepshirt. It falls from your shoulders and goosebumps dance up your arms at the contact of his cold skin on yours and the way your arousal grows more insistent with every swipe of his tongue against yours.
He pulls back, scanning your face for just a moment, and you can’t help the mewling “Please” that escapes your lips, desperation evident in every word. You need more of him, and after waiting for weeks, you’re ready for him to give you everything.
Astarion gives a wicked grin at the sound of your begging, but his mouth only moves low enough to take a single nipple in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the hardened peak, before latching around it and sucking deeply.
He shimmies your panties down with his next movement and holds up your hips, sliding his tongue up the length of your sex while one arm keeps your legs above him. You can’t help but groan at the delicious feeling of his mouth finally meeting your waiting, swollen bud, and quickly have to rest your legs on his shoulders to keep from bucking wildly at the intensity of the pleasure he offers you.
And Gods, but he devours you, lewd noises filling your small excuse for a tent as his tongue laps at your soaking cunt. The pleasure behind your eyes burns white hot as he slips his tongue inside you, his nose against your clit moving in time with each shallow thrust. He groans with each pulsing clench of your body around him and your hands tangle in the blanket below you as you grasp for anything that might ground you in this moment.
Before you get too close to your peak, he briefly sets your hips down and moves to slip his cock out of his pants. He palms his length with one hand, hissing as he tightly pumps himself, and then slips the other back inside you. Astarion moves low, adjusting his body in a single smooth movement and then he’s before you once more, licking up until he pulls your pulsing, waiting clit into his mouth and sucking. Massaging your inner walls while he holds your pleasure between his lips and rolls his tongue until you’re bucking against his mouth.
You go over the edge, dissolving into waves of pleasure with his name crashing from your lips in a keening moan and feel the way his mouth turns up into a smile as you clench around his fingers, but his mouth stays in place until your body stills around him.
“You taste so sweet when you cum,” He moves up to kiss you and you sigh against his lips.
“Hells,” you breathe when he pulls away, trying to catch your breath as the hum of release dances through your body, but Astarion has no interest in letting you rest.
“Now, let’s go for one more,” he starts, lining his cock up with your entrance and then sliding it against your slit, wetting his length with your arousal. He presses into you a moment later and you gasp at the sensation, at the way he stretches you to fit all of him, and his next words are enough to nearly shatter you again.
“This time, I want you to come around my cock, my sweet, little bird.”
He doesn’t wait another moment before withdrawing then burying himself to the hilt, his moan echoing your gasp at how full you feel once he’s inside you. His rhythm is so desperate and slow and deep that you’re quickly lost in every punishing hit of his body meeting yours.
You can’t muffle your pleading moans as you beg for more of him, for the pleasure he offers and he shifts, putting one leg on his shoulder once more so he can take you even deeper. He’s bent over you and staring into your eyes as he ruts, smiling and purring as he watches you come closer and closer to breaking.
“Yes, that’s…so good,” he groans, “...doing so good for me little bird.”
His nickname for you, in this context, feels like lightning dancing through your skin and igniting in that aching place where your bodies meet. He kisses you deeply, moans exchanged in the space where your tongues dance, and then he pulls away quickly, his voice gruff as he demands, “Turn over, sweet thing.”
You do as you're told, flipping onto your stomach, and before you might shift to be on hands and knees, you feel his strong hands kneading the muscle of your ass, his cock lining up with your entrance once more. Astarion angles your hips up for him and slides back inside with a delicious, deep groan
“Wanna feel you - uhnnn, Gods, bird - come around my cock,” he moans, his rhythm growing erratic as you both approach the peak for your pleasure together. “Be a good girl for me, be - please - fuck, you feel so good -”
With deep push inside you, his cock finds a spot that has your eyes rolling back and your body soaking him in your arousal, his praise continuing until you do as he asks again. He brings you closer and closer to the edge with every perfect stroke, his hips meeting your ass and balls hitting your clit with every punishing thrust.
Your climax crashes through you this time, pulsing and clenching and begging for more and more of him. You see white and stars as you pant and cry through
“Fill me,” you beg, finding your voice as the aftershocks of your orgasm leave your cunt fluttering around him. He fucks into you with absolute abandon now, desperate for his own release. “Please Astarion, come for me. I want to feel you fill me, please, please -”
“Gods above - fuck - oh, oh, fuck - ” he groans and slows as he spends himself within you, continuing to roll his hips into you with every pulse of his cock emptying within you.
When he stills with you, neither of you move for a moment as you catch your breath. The scent of sex fills the air and you’re sure you should be bothered by how loud you were, how your companions have undoubtedly heard you both, but you don’t care.
His cold chest presses into your back and you’re surprised when he dots cold kisses across your shoulder blade and then turns your cheek toward him, pressing a kiss there as well with a soft hum.
“You have a lovely singing voice, my pretty bird,” he croons into the curve of your neck, continuing to pepper your neck, back and shoulders with kisses. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’d like an encore.”
When he moves off your back again, raising your hips til you feel his tongue licking at the spend he’s left within you, you cry a moan of delicious agony, and start to sing for him again.
#astarion#astarion x you#astarion x afab reader#astarion x reader#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x female reader#astarion x female tav#astarion smut#hagfics
355 notes
·
View notes
Note
Um I was wondering if you could write smut about connor and about if he can vibrate if yk what i mean cause i feel like im not the only person that thinks that androids can vibrate. please and thank you
Tease || Connor (RK800)
Summary: Connor can't wait until you get home.
Note Pt. 2: This is a spiritual epilogue of my completed Connor fanfic, Criminal Analysis!
Warnings: smut (obviously lol), afab reader, oral (reader receiving), fingering (connor has vibrating fingers), semi-public sex
{Masterlist}
You knew what you were doing— you were wearing those pants Connor liked. Really liked.
Of course, you had another reason to be wearing them other than riling him up. You knew that you’d be called into court eventually, that’s part of being a forensic psychologist, after all.
It all started that morning. You got to sleep in a little due to court and you relished the few extra moments of unconsciousness.
However, those moments lost their sweetness when you felt the cold, empty space beside you in bed. You blindly swatted the other side of the bed, hoping that if you reached just a little bit further you’d find your lover. He’d bring your groggy form into his embrace, and lull you back into a dreamless sleep.
Your grasps came up empty and you rolled onto your back with a huff. The bedroom door opened with a click, and soft footsteps echoed throughout the room. You peeked open an eye and struggled to fight the grin that appeared at the sight of your love.
Connor’s hair was neat as always, but he had exchanged his Cyberlife jacket with a normal suit jacket. It was a refreshing change.
Connor neared your side of the bed, and your grin grew. He bent down and pressed a soft, slow kiss to your temple and ran his fingers through your hair, smoothing out some of the tangles.
He slowly peppered kisses down your face, moving from your forehead, down to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose, and, finally, your lips.
You didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, the ache for him already growing. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged him towards you.
Connor knew better than to fall into your trap, especially when he was running late. He placed a hand beside your head to stop himself from coming any closer. That didn’t stop you from trying, though.
“I have to go,” he whispered as he gently pulled away.
You sighed dreamily as you sat up, “You should’ve woken me up sooner.”
“If we started,” Connor purred as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “we wouldn’t be able to stop.”
You hummed in response as you slowly trailed your fingers up his thigh. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, but you just grinned.
You settled for resting your hands on his belt buckle, “You can afford to be a few minutes late.”
Your argument was flawed, you knew that. Connor would rather cut off his own foot than be late. But, you also knew that you could be very persuasive.
Connor pried your hand from his belt buckle and gave you a placating smile, “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
You let out a huff as you threw yourself back on the bed with a groan. You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head on the headboard, but you didn’t really care at the moment.
Connor bent over and gave you a final kiss, whispering an ‘I love you’ against your lips. It was almost like you were Snow White, and he was your prince charming. Although, the only thing he’d awoken was a deep need throbbing between your legs. And then he was out the door.
You set your plan into motion almost immediately. You felt a bit giddy at the thought of Connor getting all hot and bothered just by the sight of you. Especially, if he wouldn’t get to touch you until later that night.
Your heart raced as you pushed open the glass door to the precinct. Your shoes clicked across the tile floor as you made your way through the turnstile and to your desk.
You ignored Connor’s eyes searing a hole in your back as you bent down slightly and slowly put the files you came for in your bag.
A low whistle sounded behind you, “Damn, sweetheart, what’re you all dressed up for?” Gavin called as he made his way to his desk, steaming mug clutched in his hand.
You rolled your eyes and fought off a grin. Gavin’s shameless flirting was playing right into your plan.
“If you must know,” you straightened and placed your hands on your hips, “some of us actually have to do our jobs.”
Gavin sat down and leaned back in his chair, “Very funny.”
You went back to your task, pretending to look in one of the drawers for something, making sure to give Connor a very good view.
“I think your plastic boy toy is malfunctioning,” Gavin snickered, and you stopped your fake search and looked up at Gavin. “He just practically ran to the bathroom.”
“I’ll go check on him,” you muttered as you closed the drawer to your desk.
Gavin put his feet up on his desk and sent you one of his blinks that’s meant to be a wink, “Yeah, you go ahead and check on him.”
You flushed as you turned away, your hurried steps echoing as you made your way to the bathroom. Gavin wasn’t stupid. Hell, you’d done the same thing when he’d pissed you off when you were dating.
Old habits died hard.
The door to the men’s bathroom silently shut behind you, and luckily only one stall was occupied. You locked the bathroom door with a click and sauntered over to the stall which contained the object of your desires. Well, more like the person of your desires.
“Connor,” you called out as you came to a stop in front of the stall door. A slight grin graced your features as you waited for him to answer.
The door opened in a flash, and you were pulled inside. Quicker than you could process, Connor had you pressed up against the door and had both of your hands caged in his and held above your head.
“You just couldn’t wait,” Connor taunted as he tilted his head to the side, letting his breath fan across your cheek. He slid his knee between your legs, allowing himself to get even closer.
You raised your head to look at him. “I dunno, seems like you’re the one who couldn’t wait.” He let out a sigh as he released your hands and raked them down your body. You had to be quick, Connor knew that. Although, that didn’t stop him from teasing you.
He gripped your thighs as he looked down at you and pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips. It was mostly tongue, but you were quick to wrap your arms around him and pull him impossibly closer to you.
Connor made quick work of undoing the buttons on your dress shirt as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat and gripped your hips tightly. He was searching for that spot that made you make those noises he liked. You ground your core against his thigh, attempting to get some sort of relief.
Once he successfully got your shirt all the way unbuttoned, he was quick to attack the newly exposed skin, licking and sucking to his heart’s desire. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged at the pieces at the nape of his neck eliciting a groan from him.
Connor gripped your waist as he moved his sloppy kisses down your abdomen and slowly got to his knees. You gazed down at him through your heavy lids. He moved to unbutton your pants, eager to finally touch you. His movements were practiced and precise as he pulled your pants down to your ankles. He let out a shaky breath when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear.
You’d almost forgotten about that part of your plan.
He slotted himself neatly between your legs. He always fit so well there.
“So needy for me,” he breathed against your core as he caressed your inner thighs. You clenched them together but his grip held you in place. He pressed a kiss on the inside of your knee before slowly moving upward, avoiding where you needed him most.
You let out a groan, and Connor looked up at you.
“Use your words, Doctor,” he gently reminded before latching his lips onto your core. Your breath is promptly knocked out of you, and any retort you had died in your throat.
His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to him. His tongue expertly circled your clit as he found a rhythm that had your eyes rolling back. You gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a moan that sent heavenly vibrations up your body.
You groaned at the sight of him— your slick had begun to coat his face and he showed no sign of slowing.
Connor slowly and sinfully pressed one finger inside you, which was quickly joined by another. You thrusted your hips forward, desperate to have even more of him. He pumped his fingers achingly slow, but a stream of vibrations caused you to jolt.
That was new.
A sly grin had curved into Connor’s face and he looked up at you, taking in the confusion mixed with arousal that graced your features. He pulled away from you for a moment, “I was saving that for later.”
“Fuck, Connor,” you whimpered.
“Be quiet,” Connor grunted into your core as he jutted his fingers deeper into you. You pressed a hand over your mouth to silence the breathy moans that were escaping you.
You trusted yourself for only a moment to whimper out, “Need you.”
Connor was more than happy to oblige you as he rose to his feet and pushed his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. You busied yourself with undoing his belt buckle, fingers clumsy as you revealed what you ached for.
Connor let out a shaky breath as you stroked him, and he met your strokes halfway. He gripped your thighs and in one swift motion lifted you up. He was practically bending you in half, but you didn’t mind.
He angled his cock up to your entrance, and agonizingly, slowly pushed inside you. The way he stretched you was delicious, and you let out a high-pitched mewl at the feeling.
He covered your mouth with one of his hands as he rutted inside of you and bottomed out. After a few moments, you started moving your hips, begging him to move. Mercifully, he obliged you and snapped his hips against yours. You let out a breathy moan against his hand, and he pressed sloppy kisses against your neck.
“You’re perfect,” he slurred into your shoulder, “couldn’t wait until tonight to have you.” He moved his hand from your mouth to resting on your neck, and he looked you in the eyes as he pounded into you. Connor brought his hand down to where you were joined and the vibrations continued once again.
You grip onto his bicep, that familiar coil beginning to tighten, and you panted heavily. “I’m close,” you whined.
“Come for me.”
He didn’t have to ask twice. You groaned and you felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. You came hard as you involuntarily pushed your hips into Connor’s.
He came with your name gracing his lips along with a few other words. You attempted to catch your breath as Connor stilled within you.
“You’re going to be late,” he said matter-of-factly as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You huffed out a laugh, and Connor gently set you back down. You grabbed onto his shoulders while you waited for your legs to stop feeling like jelly.
Connor helped clean you up and make you look presentable. His hands were a lot steadier than yours at the moment.
You pressed a kiss to his cheek and grinned, “I should tease you more often."
#detroit become human#dbh connor#connor x reader#rk800 x reader#dbh rk800#connor x reader smut#rk800 x reader smut#dbhsmut#dbh x reader#no y/n#rk800 x you#reader insert#zilla answers
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleepy
Leon S. Kennedy NSFW one-shot
Leon S. Kennedy / Reader(AFAB)
cw: soft morning SMUT 18+ MDNI, re:2 leon, no RC event.
*not edited
Quietly closing the door behind him, Leon breathes a sigh of relief. It was another late night patrol with the R.P.D, even though Leon was exhausted he would never grow tired of his job. Since he was orphaned at a young age he dreamed about becoming someone who could protect those who couldn't protect themselves, and he was able to do that with his job. Although he had only joined the force a year ago he has made his impact not only that but has made many friends along the way. And that included you.
Leon was still within his first week when he met you, cliché enough you both had bumped into one another. Leon had stupidly not been paying attention and had spilt his morning coffee all over you. And thankfully you hadn't beaten him for ruining what looked like a beautiful sun-dress. But Leon just couldn't let you walk away without repaying you, so that's when he had offered to get lunch sometime and by a miracle you accepted. And from there a relationship blossomed. You had become a rock, a pillar of reliability and comfort, something Leon had never had within his life. And now a year later your relationship has bloomed into a beautiful garden.
Gently taking off his boots, setting them aside next to your shoes he makes his way into the living room as he lays down his bag along with his belt and the rest of his gear. Then he's making his way to your shared bedroom. Leon's heart swells at the sight of you bundled up in the thick comforter, face snuggled into his pillow. A soft smile painting his face, stealthily Leon showers and readies himself for bed- happy that he's off for tomorrow and can sleep in with you. Reaching the bed, he pulls up the comforter cuddling himself around you. A sleepy sound leaves your lips, "Leon?" voice thick with sleep you turn towards his chest. "Hi baby, go back to sleep." whispering to you as he pulls you closer to him, relishing in your warmth. A soft 'I love you' is mumbled into his chest before you fall back asleep, "I love you too." placing a kiss atop your head Leon buries himself in your scent and is soon pulled under into a dreamless sleep.
The morning rays of the sun stream into the bedroom, a groan leaves Leon at being awakened. Turning away from the window he snuggles himself further into your chest. But before he can fall back asleep your voice is ringing through his mind. "Good morning grumpy." Leon lets out a grunt at your teasing, a soft laugh bubbles up from your chest at his antics. Hoping to better his mood you begin to place kisses upon his face. Starting at his messy bed head you trail your way down his face, past his furrowed brows, placing a light kiss atop his nose as you continue downwards not so subtly avoiding his pink lips that are just begging to be kissed. Voice a bit husky with sleep calls out your name, "Don't tease- it's too early." With a cheeky smile you continue your teasing, now your kisses have past his sharp jawline and are now mapping out the delicate skin of his neck. A familiar sound of pleasure tumbles from Leon's lips and not a moment later are you rolled onto your back, hands pinned beside your head. Leon has a smug smile painted upon his face, "You should know better baby, if you're not careful we’ll be in bed all day." A mischievous smile tugs at your cheeks, raising a brow "would that be such a bad thing?" Leon's lovely laugh fills the air around you both, and you can't help the genuine smile that takes up your face. Leaning down Leon finally gets what he has been deprived of, the feel of your lips against his has him shutting his eyes in relief.
It starts off slow and measured, Leon removes his hands from your wrists as he begins to caress your curves as he travels down to the hem of your-his- shirt. his warm and slightly calloused hands mapping out every inch of you. Mouths locked in a dance, taking the lead you nip at his plump bottom lip, and Leon gives into your request allowing your tongues to meet one another. Your hands are quick to crawl up his bare shoulders rising to his blond locks, carding your fingers through the soft strands. Taking your dance further, Leon's moving his lips down to your neck placing open mouth kisses upon your skin- relishing in your natural scent that does nothing to curb his want for you. With his mouth littering kisses his hands are massaging the swells of your breasts, your whimpers of pleasure reaches Leon's ears. Reaching the collar of your- his-shirt he takes a moment to look up at you, giving you the opportunity to stop this if you didn't want to go further. And Leon is met with your lust filled gaze, "Please, Leon." and that's all it takes for Leon to quickly remove the offending fabric from you body, finally Leon can now continue where he left off.
Mouth marking your skin, creating a beautiful constellation of hickeys across your skin. Then he's pulling the hard bud of your right breast into his warm mouth. Tongue swirling around the bud, a moan is quick to fall from your lips as your fingers tug on Leon's hair, eliciting a groan from him, mind and body buzzing with pleasure. After he's satisfied in his worship of your right breast he is moving onto the other breast- not wanting to leave it out of his loving devotion to your body. Giving it the same treatment as the other, with every swirl and flick of his tongue sending jolts of arousal to your core- no doubt dampening your panties. Once he finishes Leon is soon to move downwards, mouth lighting a fiery trail of pleasure down your stomach- past your navel, only stopping at the hem of your panties. His fingers are quick to remove the fabric just as fast as the shirt- eyes blown wide in a mix of lust and adoration his gaze locks with yours. Once again silently asking if he can continue, "Leon if you don't fuck me- I'll do it myself." voice filled with lust and frustration. "Yes ma'am." who was he to deny you? Whenever you asked-begged or made so much as an inkling that you wanted something Leon was quick to fill that, the same way you did for him. He was so in love you, and he planned on making sure you remembered that- always, even with the late night patrols or having to reschedule plans with his job he always made every moment with you count and this was no exception.
Raising his head level with yours, he's taking one of his hands dragging it down to your center. Fingers meeting your arousal, a throaty groan leaves Leon at the feeling, you were so wet for him. Slipping two fingers into you easily, your warm walls are quick to clamp down upon him. Pushing in until his fingers were completely within you, does he then finally start his movements. Deep but measured thrusts of his fingers in and out of your cunt has your whimpering in ecstasy. Taking his other hand, bringing it down to your bundle of nerves, putting just the right amount of pressure and swirling your clit underneath his fore and middle finger. Your moans are a beautiful melody that he'll never grow tired of listening to. Your cunt is soon to grip his fingers in a vice like grip, as you near your impending climax. "Fuck- cum on my fingers, please baby." Leon's voice is a needy whimper filled with lust and its sending you off that cliff straight into your orgasm. As your mind blanks with your orgasm, you are soon brought back down to earth as Leon's cooing words of encouragement and love begin to register within your mind.
"So good, that's it baby." Gently removing his fingers from your cunt he is bringing his wet digits up to mouth, letting himself taste the unmistakable flavor that is you. Leon is quick to remove his clothing- luckily it was only one piece of fabric, throwing his underwear to the side his cock now free. A sigh of relief falls from his pink lips, cock hard and aching to be within you. Precum has already smeared the tip of him no doubt leaving a wet patch upon his clothing- but Leon couldn't care less about that right now. Bringing his length to your core, taking a moment to grind his length into your arousal, wetting his cock. Though he is quick to push himself into you, taking steady breaths so that his doesn't cum too quickly. He lets his cock sink into you until he is flushed against you. Fuck, he will never get tired of this feeling- your inviting cunt hugging him, warm and wet just for him and only him.
Pulling his hips back, feeling his cock drag against your walls, stopping only when his tip is left within you does he then sink back into you. Deep and rhythmic thrusts, not slow but not fast either. Your arms are wrapping around his neck while your legs cage in his hips, encouraging him to go deeper- to go harder. A soft cry of his name has Leon's eyes leaving where they were watching himself disappear within you up to your eyes. Obeying your silent begging, Leon quickly brings his hands down your thighs raising your left thigh to rest against his chest- allowing him to reach deeper within you. His other hand gripping hard onto your right side, giving him the perfect leverage to fuck you into the bed. In and out, his harsh and deep thrusts has your head falling back into the pillow as your back arches up into Leon's chest. His mind-numbing sounds of pleasure has your cunt clenching down hard upon him- trying to keep him within you, never wanting him to leave. Taking his eyes away from the hypnotizing sight of your cunt taking all of him to the hilt every time he thrusts, rising to your face again he nearly cums at the sight before him. Your face is etched in pleasure, mouth open allowing for your sweet sounds to fall from your lips. And then you are throwing Leon right to the edge as you bring one of your hands down to swirl your clit as you near an earthshattering high. A curse accompanied with your name is cried out, as Leon feels your cunt rhythmically begin to quiver and squeeze around his cock. Leon's grip upon you tightens, undoubtedly leaving bruises for you to find later as he feels white hot pleasure roll down his back as his body tightens before he feels himself cuming within you. Pushing as far into you as possible grinding his length as he paints your inner walls with his cum.
Slowly his grinding comes to a stop as you both finish riding out your highs, he is gently setting your thigh down against the sheets. And just as Leon goes to remove his now softening cock to clean you both up- you are quick to latch onto him. "Stay- just a bit longer, please."
"Of course." leaving himself within you, his arms wrap around your torso. There he settles himself atop of you, placing feather-light kisses against your neck. "I love you." your lips are placing a kiss upon his temple, "I love you too Leon."
#x reader#smut#fluff#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#reader#leon s kennedy#resident evil leon#leon kennedy smut#leon scott kennedy x reader#re2 remake#re2 leon#resident evil 2#leon kennedy#resident evil#re2#leon resident evil#leonkennedy#female reader#reader insert#smut writing#one shot
695 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
crypticroyals
Local EMG
icedteaforme
ICED TEA FOR ME
3clapsmusic
Welcome in our Area ^_^
deadmath
Oh would you forget me now?
hoopje-ellende
Hoop(je) ellende